Hello all! Thanks for all of the reviews and favs/follows! It means so much to me and keeps me motivated!
Sooo here it is - The Fallen! There's a lot of politics, drama, action, drama, and more drama. I loved writing the last part of this chapter. Anyways, I shall return next week with Sovngarde and we shall see where the drama takes us! :)
*hearts*
Disclaimer:I don't own anything.
Warnings: violence and cursing.
That evening, as the sun cast its closing crimson rays over Whiterun, Ophelia leisurely made her way up the jagged steps to Dragonsreach. With the bustling of people in the streets behind her, the peaceful lull of the water surrounding the keep calmed her. She was nervous, and rightfully so. She didn't even know if Vignar would permit her to lure Odahviing – as Ulfric hadn't been clear about whether or not he was pitching it to the Jarl or if she was.
If he didn't accept, surely Ulfric would step in to exert some power over the situation… at least she hoped he would. As she was crossing the ornate wooden bridge leading to the Keep, she nodded at the hails from the Stormcloak guards that were gathered around the entrance and took a deep breath, preparing herself for what was to come.
She quietly entered through the double doors which were already ajar and looked around the entry hall of the keep. There were far more people inside than she had hope for. Folks that she recognized as nobles from around the town were dressed their finest and socialized merrily among each other.
A party?
She hated this. She hated it more than Alduin himself. Multiple heads turned to gawk at her when she entered and she unpinned her cloak from her armor, folding it neatly over her arm and making her way through the seemingly endless sea of people.
"Look! It's the Dragonborn!"
Enthusiastic whispers of the folk reached her ears as she awkwardly maneuvered between them, trying to find a familiar face. Never being one for crowds, she could hear her pulse in her head and felt her face burning with embarrassment.
"Dragonborn!" The first semblance of a familiar voice reached her ears and she whipped around to face the direction it came from. Through the mass of people approached Olfina Grey-Mane, an old acquaintance of hers and Vignar's housecarl. She smiled at the woman, who embraced her in a hug.
It was rather uncomfortable, as Olfina's admiration of Ophelia had been something that was difficult to read and the woman had always treated Ophelia as an old friend, although they never really were. However, Ophelia was glad to see someone she knew personally.
"What brings you here?" Olfina asked while taking Ophelia's cloak and beckoning her to follow.
"I was supposed to meet Jarl Ulfric and Jarl Vignar this evening." Ophelia struggled to keep her tone hushed as the bustling of people around them made it difficult.
"There right over here…" Olfina cheerily announced as they neared the edge of the people, next to the hearth and table. Ophelia spotted Jarl Vignar and Ulfric seated next to one another, surrounded by several people she did not recognize.
Ulfric was smiling politely and speaking animatedly to the people that encircled them. It was best she didn't interrupt, she figured, and she looked to their right and behind them, where Galmar stood obviously in contempt.
"Thank you, Olfina. I'll take up with Galmar for now." Ophelia smiled and thanked the woman who had helped her.
Olfina smiled back, "of course. In the mean time I'll put your cloak away for you." She took off and Ophelia looped around carefully, as to not interrupt any of the conversations that took place around them.
Galmar caught a glimpse of her and his deep frown faded into an expression of exasperation, "Talos, woman, where have you been?"
"I just got here… what in oblivion is going on?"
Together, the two viewed the mass of people and Galmar mumbled, obviously disgruntled, "I don't know. Ulfric didn't come get me like he promised so I came here to look for him. Then all of these people arrived and Vignar dragged him away." He motioned in annoyance to the crowded hall before crossing his arms.
"Do you think he's told him about our plan?" She asked quietly as she peered over his shoulder at Ulfric, who was now in a clearly deep conversation with a woman that had taken a seat next to him.
Galmar shook his head, "I doubt there would be a blue-blooded assembly like this if he knew why we were here…"
Ophelia sighed out of frustration and scratched the back of her head, "what do we do?"
"Like hell if I know… You're the one marrying him, do your wifely duty and drag him away from the party.
Ophelia couldn't help the sudden laugh that left her, "you're more of his wife than I am. I don't dote over him. I'm not going over there."
"Then we're at a stalemate." He grunted and uncrossed his arms, placing his hands on his hips.
She looked him up and down, her eyes narrowed. If she needed to play dirty she would – she wasn't very fond of Vignar and his incessant nosiness. It would be her luck that he would decipher every last detail of her arrangement with Ulfric simply by some minuscule detail.
"Shall we repeat what happened earlier today?" She reminded with a bitter sweet tone.
He cocked his head to the side, he smirked, "you've got some balls on you…"
"I do." She smiled haughtily, "now, go over there and get him."
He sighed and ran a hand down the side of this face, looking over his shoulder at the ever-growing crowd around Ulfric and Vignar, "fine." He grunted and turned on his heel, marching towards the group.
Ophelia leaned against the wall and watched with an amused expression. Galmar excused himself as he weaved through the people and neared Ulfric, who was currently surrounded by three different women on all sides of him. Probably women seeking the throne, she noted with a slight grimace. She was justly sure of the stability of their relationship. He wasn't a young man who looked high and low for something to sleep with anymore and besides, she had nothing to lose if this fell apart – he had everything.
Ulfric looked up at him, his expression unreadable but with an eyebrow raised he regarded his friend. Galmar leaned down to whisper something to the other man and Ulfric's eyes began searching the expanse of the back wall before landing on Ophelia. Quickly averting his gaze, he nodded and shooed Galmar away before turning back to the women with a captivating smile. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she forced herself to look away.
What was the point in lying to herself?
While she entertained the thought of not having anything to lose if he were to betray her, the sinking reality of the situation sank in. She was falling in love with him… His disloyalty would bring about her end. Vulnerability was something she was never keen on and all of a sudden it all but consumed her. Her fingers began rapidly tapping against the side of her thigh and her face felt like it was on fire.
"He'll be right over." Galmar said as he returned to her side. He leaned against the wall alongside her, watching the scene before them, leaving Ophelia to her thoughts.
Skyrim was by far the darkest chapter in her already tainted life. It was a harsh, dreary land, with a shady past and a dimmer future, with jaded folk and foul secrets flowing in its very veins. She hated Ulfric when she first met him. He was conceited and feasibly the darkest thing she had encountered in Skyrim at that moment.
Yet through her journey and her visits with him, she knew there was more to him… more to this land. Undeniably he never intended to, but he had shed a new light on this chapter that guided her.
Ophelia, against her better judgment, looked back at it as well. Ulfric was such an optimistic beacon among everything else in the room. His smile, although fake at that moment, was passable to most and caught on around him. He kissed the hands of the women as a farewell and they batted their eyelashes as a reply. He stood and straightened the coat of his armor, leisurely making his way up to them. Her heart beat rapidly as the soft lighting of the hearth danced across his face attractively.
"Dragonborn," he smiled at her, offering her a hand. Clenching her jaw, she took it and they shook as if she was an old colleague. She offered him no smile as she returned his greeting formally.
Galmar looked between the two with exasperation and leaned in, softly speaking, "surely you two could at least act like you know each other. This is stupid."
"Not right now, Galmar. There's too much at stake." Ulfric spoke through a forced toothy grin. Ophelia raised an eyebrow and her fiancé turned to look behind him at Vignar, who was following not far behind with two younger men.
"By the Nine I have the future High King and the Dragonborn in Dragonsreach tonight?" He beamed at Ophelia and embraced her as if she was a close friend. She concluded in the midst of the uncomfortable hug that the Grey-Mane's had boundary issues.
"What brings you to Dragonsreach this evening, Dragonborn?"
Ophelia glanced at Ulfric, who remained resigned, "I'm – well, I need your help regarding something very serious, my Jarl. In fact, that is why Jarl Ulfric is here, as well."
Vignar judged them without a word before continuing, "very well. I'll speak with you in the war room in a few moments. I have to bid farewell to a few people, first."
She nodded respectfully and he turned on his heel to walk away but stopped suddenly, spinning to face her once more, "one thing before I go."
He motioned to the man that followed him over but kept a respectful distance from them. The man walked forward. "Dragonborn, this is my nephew, Avulstein Grey-Mane."
She smiled and extended her hand for a handshake but was surprised when he brought her hand to his lips, placing a well-mannered kiss upon the back. She remembered in full why she couldn't stand Vignar. First it was Thorald he was trying to marry her to. Now it's the other one. Bowing her head and thanking the young man, she brought her hand back, resisting the urge to wipe the back of her hand.
Vignar pat his nephew on the back and ushered him back to the table. Ophelia watched as they walked away before spinning to face her fiancé and his comrade. Galmar wore a snarky smile and Ulfric's eyebrow creased in the slightest frown, although he remained silent.
"He's trying to marry off his nephews again." Ophelia whispered to the two, inconspicuously rubbing her hand on the front of her armor, "so he has no idea as to why we're here?"
Ulfric shook his head, clasping his hands behind his back. Ophelia sighed, looking over at the old Jarl. He was a kiss ass, but he still was Jarl. And they wanted to bring a dragon into his town for an interrogation that might not even work.
"Don't worry; I'm sure we can at least strike a deal with him." Ulfric's stony, apathetic tone irked her. She detested this charade they were forced to put up.
"Or we can just threaten him," Galmar grunted and Ophelia turned her head back around, snickering quietly at the suggestion.
Ulfric glowered, "no strong-arming anyone, Galmar. Let's go ahead to the war room."
The three moved to the far right of the throne and climbed the steps in silence. The war room was far more organized than she remembered it being. The map in the center of the table was cleared of the flags and instead lined with red thread that was carefully woven in between various tacks around all holds. She regularly forgot about the fact that while the Civil War was resolved, the Thalmor were counting down until they could launch an invasion. The three wandered around the room in silence, looking around at various things.
Soon, Vignar joined them. His expression was no longer one of merriment but one of business.
"I knew this visit was far too good to be truly for celebration." He murmured as they all converged on the table.
"The time for celebration has come and gone, Vignar. We all have work to do." Ulfric shot back, leaning against the table and looking over the map idly.
"So what is this topic you wished to speak about?" The old man directed his question towards Ophelia.
She didn't have long to consider her words, "I need your help. I need to trap a dragon in your palace."
Vignar's face contorted into several different expressions before he laughed, "I must have misheard you! I thought you asked me to help you trap a dragon in my palace."
Ophelia shook her head, sparing no time, "You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
The old man's laughter had died out before she answered but his smile took longer to fade. He sighed heavily, looking at Ulfric who offered no words. Vignar then looked at Ophelia once more, "Of course. You already saved Whiterun from that dragon. I owe you a great deal. But I don't understand. Why let a dragon into the heart of my city when we've been working so hard to keep them out?"
"Alduin has returned." The guards that were stationed at the tops of the staircases turned their heads. Ulfric, Galmar and Lydia were the only ones outside of the Greybeards and the Blades to truly know that Alduin had returned. Others speculated.
"Alduin?" Vignar had gone as white as a ghost as he took it in and he looked to the table in disbelief, "But… how can we fight him? Doesn't his return mean it's the end times?"
Ophelia detested the term end times, "I'm the Dragonborn. It's my destiny to stop him."
Vignar was still clearly doubtful but conceded, "I don't know about such things. But I heard the Greybeards summon you, so that's good enough for me. Now, what's this nonsense about trapping a dragon in my palace?" He continued on, his tone curt.
"It's the only way to find Alduin before it's too late." Ulfric spoke up this time, glaring ever so slightly at the old man. Vignar's slight aggression faded as if it had never existed in the first place.
"Then Whiterun will stand with you, Dragonborn. We will take the risk and gain the glory. Whether it be in victory or defeat. So, what's the plan then? How do you intend to lure a dragon into the trap?"
"I can shout his name to lure him to Dragonsreach, and then bait him onto the balcony, where the trap in the ceiling will fall." She explained the process as simply as she could. Ulfric and Galmar could help her with the semantics.
"I have men on call outside of the city already." Ulfric said, "They will be here in the morning to help us oversee this."
Vignar sighed, "Very well, then. We shall do this tomorrow morning. This better work."
"It will, Vignar. Don't fret. I have the utmost faith in the Dragonborn's ability." Ulfric reassured the man, who nodded.
"I should return to the gathering. Ulfric, care to join me?" Vignar asked with a hopeful smile.
Ophelia watched Ulfric, who let his eyes dart to her before returning to the other man, "I will. May I have a moment of privacy to speak to the Dragonborn?"
"Of course!" Vignar replied and began towards the stairs, motioning for his guards to follow. Galmar trailed behind uneasily with a scowl.
Once out of sight, Ulfric moved next to Ophelia and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. She watched him with amusement, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Staking my claim. Can't have everybody thinking they can marry you, can I?" he whispered lowly as he caught her lips in a kiss. Her eyes flickered shut and she felt a physical ache overtake her body for the duration of the contact. Gods, what this man did to her. He pulled away, keeping his forehead against hers, "Wuunferth is down in Farengar's chambers. He still wants to see you."
"Ok," she breathed against his mouth, desperately seeking another kiss. His lips found hers for another quick moment before he pulled away completely, abandoning her by the table.
"Good evening," the abrasive professionalism entered his voice again and she clenched her fists.
"Very well, enjoy your party," she said with slight sadness. He clearly noticed, as he paused in his movements and peeked over his shoulder before taking his leave. She heaved out a sigh and put her face into her hands. One step closer to ending this. One step closer to finality.
She followed soon after, her head numb and heavy feeling as she walked down the steps and hugged the wall to Farengar's quarters. The gathering had thinned out but folk still hung off Vignar and Ulfric alike as the two sat at the table. She didn't risk another look, fearing the sting of irrational vulnerability once more.
She slipped through the doors to the mage's quarters and shut them softly behind her. When she turned around, she saw Wuunferth and Farengar seated across from each other at the table. The two wizards wearily looked to her before returning to their quiet conversation. Ophelia kept her distance, concluding from their behavior that they didn't want her to hear whatever they were talking about, and waited patiently for them to finish.
"Farengar, would you mind?" Wuunferth pardoned suddenly and Farengar stood from his chair, retreating to his bed chambers without another word. Ophelia watched as he left with curiosity before walking forward to the old man that now sat by himself.
"Have a seat," he stated, flipping through the pages of a journal he had held in his right hand.
She seated herself across from him and took a look on the table in front of her. There were a few books, all having to do with the Dragonborn tale. So that's what he wanted to talk about. She fought off the urge to roll her eyes. Farengar had attempted to research her before. It was so dehumanizing.
Her fingers brushed over the edge of a pair of small forceps that were left on the table and she noticed how rough they were. Doing a double take, she saw the top edges of it were corroded and warped. She picked them up and examined the ruined tool.
"Your blood did that." He finally setting the journal down on the table, opened to pages that were littered with messy notes.
Ophelia looked back to the warped tool, "how?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out," he wore a tense smile and crossed his arms, "I have a theory about you."
"What is this theory?" She set the forceps down.
"Being Dragonborn means you have the soul and the blood of a dragon. Your dragon soul, of course, manifests in your thu'um and ability to learn the Dragon Language with ease. The blood part I seem to have misinterpreted as I thought it was only referencing any potential ties to all Dragonborns being related and ultimately connected to the Septim and Mede families. However, it seems as if you do literally have the blood of a dragon. This leads to the question – are there other physical qualities of yours that are similar to if not that of a dragon?"
Ophelia tried her best to listen aptly. Her inexplicable sleepiness had returned and she stifled a yawn, nodding for him to continue.
"Last week, when you were wounded and I tended to you, I used these tools," he picked up the instrument for emphasis, "from the time I had touched your wound with them to when I was cleaning up, they were already like this. I was able to dilute it with water, but I'm afraid these are already ruined." He looked slightly disheartened as he set them back down.
"Dragons blood is acidic." Ophelia stated, recollecting the first time she had killed a dragon outside of Whiterun. She had struck the dragon, his blood smeared onto her sword and her arms. It irritated her skin terribly until she absorbed his soul – then the blood simply vanished with his flesh.
"Yes, as I've heard from multiple accounts from this era and the past… I managed to find some books in Windhelm on the Dragonborn prophecy and I also had an old personal account from Saint Alessia's court." He pulled out a very delicate looking book that was leather bound in white. It was discolored with age, and had a small replica of the Amulet of King's on the front. As he opened it gently and thumbed through the pages with care she desperately wanted to rip it out of his hands and look through it herself. What an amazing piece of history.
"Alessia was the first Dragonborn and although she wasn't able to shout or absorb dragon souls, she still carried many of the same characteristics that other Dragonborns have and even more, I've noticed."
"What do you mean?"
He scrutinized her from behind the pages, "I mean – Alessia wasn't a dragon soul trapped in a human's body. Alessia was a dragon that looked like a human. Although she appeared to be human in nearly every way, there were things about her that contested her humanity. There are innumerable incidences of her abnormalities in this account. Alessia, much like you, had acidic dragon blood coursing through her veins."
He inhaled sharply before continuing, "Without delving too much into personal information, I want to see if you share any other similarities to her. Not just for research but to help you as well."
Ophelia considered before agreeing. "Of course. I don't see what harm it could do." She swore that for an instant, a smile crossed the old man's face. However, he returned to his resigned ways and looked down at a journal he already had laying open on the table.
"How old are you?"
"Thirty two."
"Both of your parents were Nord, yes?"
"Yes."
"What is your family's line?"
Ophelia answered without even thinking about any potential repercussions, "Highlander."
The quill he had been writing with stopped momentarily and his eyes darted to her, but he continued writing, "on your father's side?"
"Father." She figured she was in too deep to withhold information and didn't see any harm in revealing her identity.
"Your mother's side?"
"I'm not sure."
"Tell me about things that you've experienced that you believe might be due to you being Dragonborn."
Ophelia laughed noisily, "You're going to need a journal larger than that."
Wuunferth smirked, "I have a feeling this will do. Go head – from the beginning."
She sighed, looking up to the ceiling to recall…
"I used to have dreams about odd things like Dragons or… or… Well, you see… I had this figure that repeated in my dreams. It was a Nord man, who was very friendly to me… and I used to speak with my adoptive mother about him a lot. She said it was my father speaking to me beyond the grave. Most of the time, I don't even have dreams. It's like I relive the past – relive memories.
"I used to hear voices when I was a child and they were almost like premonitions. This one time, I was running down a path and I heard an odd disembodied voice telling me to get off the road and I did… A group of bandits was closing in on me and if I hadn't gotten off the road, I dread to think of what might have happened."
She stopped in her stories, "I'm sorry if this isn't what you were looking for, I'm just not sure what you're asking about…"
Wuunferth dismissed her apology, "No, no. It's all right – I need to log all of these down so I can start comparing potential symptoms."
Ophelia nodded, continuing on, "when my adoptive mother passed away I stayed among high elves and they taught me magic. While I was learning magic, that's when the voices in the dragon language began. I only know certain words, so I can't make out everything, but sometimes they're threatening… sometimes soothing. It depends, really. That's happened to me on and off ever since I was about sixteen or so.
"Last night I had a dream… It was so odd. There were two voices speaking the dragon language. One was trying to convince me to take to the skies, the other was telling me to ease. When I came out of it I was having this burning down here…" She stopped and pointed to her lower stomach, "it was painful…"
"Recently, my eating has been off. I'll eat a ton and then feel sick for two days straight. Then I'll sleep for Gods know how long. I've been so tired. Then again, I'm sure all of that is because of stress."
She stopped herself from rambling, "I'm sorry for rambling. That's all, really."
Wuunferth observed her, "it's okay."
The two sat in silence as he finished writing down things in the journal. Once done, he set the quill back into the inkwell and leaned back in his chair.
"You said that you're eating has been off and you've been sleeping often?" He observed her closely and tilted his head.
"Yes… Is there something wrong with that?"
Wuunferth shook his head quickly, looking back down at the table. "I will look over all of this tomorrow and come to you if I find anything of interest."
Ophelia stood from her chair and began leaving. She always felt so weird around Wuunferth. As she reached for the door handle to leave he called for her one last time. She turned.
His old, grey eyes stared seemingly through her and she felt very exposed, "may I advise you take care."
Shaking her head, she narrowed her eyes out of confusion, "Oh – okay?"
He opened his mouth to say something else but closed it. With an anxious smile, he waved her on, "have a good evening. Good luck tomorrow."
Ulfric hadn't stopped berating himself since he walked into Dragonsreach. His intentions were clear in his head, but as soon as he stepped into Dragonsreach he was bombarded by Vignar and his staff. Sitting through the older man's insistent nonsense was enough to wear him down. Of course, it only got worse when he decided to throw an impromptu party for the Stormcloak victory which happened nearly three months prior. Divines help him; he tried to bring up the state of affairs as soon as Vignar caught him but just didn't have the heart to interrupt him.
"Ulfric, do you enjoy hunting? Oh, why am I asking, of course you do." A dulcet, feminine voice belonging to one of the three women that sat around him asked and he grunted in response, drinking more mead.
He had only been halfway present, to be honest. He didn't even remember their names. There was blonde woman, red dress woman, and large breasts woman; all of which Vignar had unleashed on him as soon as he entered. He found their presence entertaining in the grand scheme of the mind numbing affair but knew what they were after. Marriage or an heir. Possibly both if they were as ambitious as Ophelia.
"When was the last time you went hunting, my lord?" The blonde one asked with a little too much enthusiasm and he nearly flinched.
"It's been a long time. After I am crowned King, I will make a point to," he smiled and shifted uncomfortably as he noticed her inching closer to him. A younger Ulfric would have taken this evening to enjoy what was in front of him in full. The women were very beautiful and obviously willing to be with him, but he had other obligations. Ophelia was his wife to be. Her words on the night in Solitude rang true with him still – he didn't want a breeding machine. He wanted a wife.
He also found himself feeling cross with women who tried to flirt with him. The sweet nonchalance of these women did nothing for him. He had learned to love the brash honesty that came with years of dire circumstances.
"You should stop by Falkreath some time! My father hosts a hunting trip out in the wilds biannually. It's fantastic!" The red dress woman invited him with a sweet smile. Her eyes shone with excitement.
"You should send an invitation to my housecarl and I shall find the time." He replied cordially.
The lady's broad smile diluted into an expressive smirk and she sipped her wine, not breaking eye contact with him. He knew that look all too well and averted his instantly. He wasn't the unfaithful type to begin with, but avoiding all situations in which it could be done was the best way to avoid any complications or misunderstandings.
Vignar, not knowing any better, threw women at him nearly every time Ulfric came around. The man was utterly obsessed with marriage and associations. He noticed the way he threw his own nephew at Ophelia and it not only stoked a possessive fire within him but brought upon a realization of how invasive the older man really was.
The door to the wizard's chambers creaked open and Ophelia stepped out, her eyes darting around the hall and falling onto him. He kept his face even and excused himself from the women, setting his tankard down. He straightened his clothing as he made his way up to her.
She remained still as she watched him approached. As he neared a sly smile graced her weary face, "having fun with your girlfriends?"
The jest took him off guard but he smirked while lowering to a whisper, "not as fun as I could be having with you."
"An honest man is so hard to come by these days." She teased with the slightest hint of annoyance in her voice. He knew something was wrong but he didn't comment. There were far too many eyes watching and ears listening.
"I wanted to see you before you took off." He kept his tone even, "Vignar won't allow us to even look at the trap tonight. The trial will happen tomorrow morning, and then we will set the plan into motion."
"No," she defied with her chin raised defiantly, "we don't need a trial. I know what I'm doing. Just put your men on standby throughout the city. I'll take care of the rest." She placed a hand on his shoulder in what appeared as camaraderie and was set to walk on.
He cut her off in a near fit of panic, "…wait… We have to do some sort of practice for this. You're calling a dragon into the city, for Talos sake. I'm on the line for this." He didn't mean for the words to come out as antagonizing, but they did. He was worried out about the whole ordeal and the fact that he couldn't escape from the senseless party.
"I recall you saying that I had your utmost trust. Are you a man of his word or not?" The sarcasm she emanated made him livid. To anyone, the exchange would look lovely but the two stared daggers into each other.
"I am a man of my word. I trust you." He fought off the urge to snarl at her. Why she was being such a smart ass fell short on him. Did Wuunferth do something? Surely she wasn't actually worried about those women. "I hope that you can do the same."
He saw her look over his shoulder at the remainder of people who laughed merrily, "I'm leaving. Goodnight, Ulfric. I will see you in the morning."
Ulfric let her pass by in fear that people would begin to catch onto what was between them. What had gotten into her?
Seeing her walk away was distressing. A man wasn't supposed to watch his woman walk away. He was supposed to take initiative and settle whatever was wrong. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and clenched his jaw. He would talk to her in the morning before they lured the dragon. He returned back to his gathering with a heavy heart and the fakest smile he could muster.
Better to make the best out of a shitty situation.
"Ulfric!"
Ulfric woke the next morning in a daze. He sat up with a rush and looked around the room. It was morning, and Galmar was scowling from across the room. Ulfric squinted at the bright light that flooded his vision and put a hand on his forehead to ease the ache.
"Bout time you woke up." Galmar grunted as he watched the Jarl struggle with sitting up.
Ulfric's stomach churned and he felt bile rise up to his throat, "I'm going to be sick." He mumbled as he stood, his whole body seizing up in pain. What in Oblivion happened to him last night?
"I would think so. You drank a ton last night." Galmar's fatherly tone was one Ulfric didn't want to hear. He rolled his eyes at his friend, pulling off the tunic that stuck to his body uncomfortably and searching around the unfamiliar room for his clothing.
"On the chair."
"What happened last night?" Ulfric swallowed thickly, trying hard not to vomit. His head throbbed, his stomach churned and his body ached so terribly he felt as if he was on the verge of death. Whatever he did last night did him in well.
"You drank yourself into Oblivion." Galmar answered as he prepared Ulfric a goblet of water, "your drunkenness got the best of you…"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ulfric scoffed. He knew he could handle his alcohol. He was a Nord. He was a Stormcloak. He was a fifty one year old war veteran. Of course he could handle it.
Galmar shrugged, "You began blathering about Ophelia to everyone around you. You didn't tell them who she was but you told them nearly everything else. From her hair color to how amazing her backside looks." Ulfric felt a lurch of jealousy and he raised an eyebrow at the older man.
His friend held up his hands defensively, "your words, not mine."
"Fantastic." Ulfric complained and pulled on his clothing on with care, "I guess when Ophelia gets here I can – "
"She's already here." Galmar cut him off, turning on his heel, making to leave the room, "I would hurry if I was you; she's about to call the Dragon."
Ulfric's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest but Galmar left in a rush. He pulled his clothing on as quickly as possible and drank the water that his friend had prepared for him to quell his nausea. He didn't bother looking at himself in the mirror. He knew he looked terrible.
He left the room and caught up with Galmar, who was walking to the balcony. Once caught up, he walked beside the man in silence, avoiding the gazes of the folk who remained in Dragonsreach even after the party last night. He had a lot of damage control to do.
Once at the balcony, he saw Ophelia at the very end, looking out to the plane in the bright sun. Her hair was braided down her back neatly, her armor newly shined and repaired. She must have done it last night, after she took her leave.
Stormcloaks and Whiterun guards scurried around the balcony, making room for the trap to fall. He looked up at the massive trap that hung from the rafters. It was massive. He walked to Ophelia, who continued to look out into the distance of the Whiterun hold.
Ulfric wanted desperately to touch her, to hold her, but he knew he couldn't. The ache that pestered within him when he couldn't touch her was maddening.
"Excuse me," He spoke calmly once he was close enough to her.
She looked back over her shoulder, at him with a lovely smile. The morning sun cascaded over her face, illuminating her eyes and shone brightly off of her mahogany hair. She looked stunning.
He inhaled sharply, forgetting the words that he had prepared for her, "I… I'm…"
"I'm sorry." She apologized with a frown.
Completely bewildered by her request for forgiveness, he struggled to answer. She fiddled with the clasps of her armor and looked down, "I was really tired and cross last night. I shouldn't have taken it out on you." He moved next to her, trying to figure out the words he wanted to say. She shouldn't be apologizing. He was the one who messed up the whole plan.
Finally speaking, he kept his voice low, "If I had manned up and spoke out against all of the nonsense that Vignar started, we would be more prepared. I'm sorry for making this much more difficult than it needs to be. I'm sorry for getting short with you." His voice lowered considerably and he inched his hand that was on the stone wall next to hers, letting them touch momentarily. She bit her lip at the contact and curled her pinky over his cutely.
Their eyes met and he couldn't help himself, "you look beautiful."
The compliment caused her to smile and she peeked over her shoulder, making sure no one heard the words he uttered. Meanwhile, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. He didn't care. He wanted to take her here, bent over against the stone wall – he ached at the thought.
"Ulfric?" Ophelia asked affectionately. He adored the way she said his name. He forced himself away from her suddenly, running a hand through his messy hair. Not the time or place, he had to remind himself.
He answered her finally, remaining quiet, "I'm fine. Lost myself in thought… That's all."
"Dragonborn!" Vignar yelled from the back of the lofty room. They both turned to look at him. He was obviously hung over, just like Ulfric. His brow was furrowed and his eyes red.
The older Jarl walked to them and crossed his arms, casting a judgmental glance at Ophelia, "so are you ready to do this?"
"Ready as I'll ever be." She bowed her head and clutched at her sword.
Vignar nodded and began to walk back, commanding his guards to gather round. Ulfric watched Ophelia carefully as her brow knitted and she followed closely behind.
"Listen here!" Vignar called for everyone as they turned their attention to the three who stood in the middle of the room, "The Dragonborn will take over command, now. You will obey her word!"
Vignar allowed Ophelia to take center and she wasted no time, "I'm going to go out to the balcony and shout for the dragon. When it comes, I'm going to lure it onto the balcony and in here. Once he crosses this line," she pointed out a newly painted line on the floor, "you'll release the trap up top. You will not attack this dragon. He will shout and try to kill me and me alone. Do not get in between us and no harm will come to you. If – and I mean if – I get into trouble, you may attack. Am I understood?"
Hollers and yelps of confirmation rang around the room and she dismissed everyone to their positions. Ulfric enjoyed watching her take up leadership positions. He had been captivated by the way she improvised taking Solitude. In his and Galmar's place, she made an excellent commander.
She turned to look at him unexpectedly, placing a hand on his shoulder and letting it fall slightly to his chest, "take position in the back. Don't intervene."
He nodded, "I'll try not to."
Winking at him, she turned on her heel and began walking to the edge of the balcony, looking to the sky. Vignar had been escorted out by the guard, on his own volition. Ulfric rolled his eyes at the thought. He missed Balgruuf often. He and Galmar took their places in the back with Vignar. Galmar already had his Warhammer drawn and Ulfric reached for his blade that was attached to his belt.
Lydia, Ophelia's companion, entered last minute and jogged up next to her. Ulfric felt a pang of guilt. His fiancée was about to physically lure a dragon into a closed environment, and yet he couldn't stand with her. His pride ate away at him as he watched Ophelia and the woman speak. Lydia patted Ophelia on the back and walked away swiftly.
Everyone was ready then, and Ophelia dropped her head, looking to the floor for a few moments before raising it again.
"Od ah viing!"
The shout, although directed to the open sky, sent a minor shockwave back into the room. Then there was the eerie silence that followed. The birds that had been heard before were gone. The wind had silenced, and any chatter that was in the room quieted down straightaway. In that silence, Ulfric could hear his own pulse quicken from the nerves. He watched Ophelia, who looked so tiny compared to the wide opening of the balcony.
Suddenly, a ragged screech rang out from the sky. Ophelia raised her sword and stood straight, like a rabbit hearing a wolfs growl. Her head turned rapidly from the right to the left, where her vision landed on something and she began backing away quickly.
The dragon swooped down just enough for Ulfric and Galmar to see before taking off again. The tension in the room could be physically felt. Everyone was poised and ready. No one had been this close to a dragon without killing it. Letting it live was risky business.
Several heavy winds filtered through the room from the balcony as the dragon hovered over it, growling in the dragon tongue. It tilted its head to the side, staring directly at Ophelia before releasing a fierce shout. Ophelia ducked and dove out of the way of the trail of fire that was directed towards her, dodging it narrowly
Ulfric took a step forward, his hand clutching the hilt of his sword tightly, only to have Galmar's hand placed on his chest to stop him. Ulfric looked up at Galmar, who only grunted, "If she needs help, I'll go in. You're too important."
Ulfric was about to protest but the dragon cried out piercingly, taking off. Ophelia ran out to the balcony once more, her eyes following it's movements across the great expanse above them.
"Joor zah frul!" She shouted again off the balcony. The shout hit the dragon and a bizarre light began engulfing him his wings slowing down as he glided towards the entrance of the balcony. Ophelia yelled triumphantly and looked around, "this is it!"
At once, the guards drew their arrows, their eyes trained on the dragon that was preparing to land. Galmar pulled Ulfric back, which angered him even more, and was prepared to take off. As the dragon was landing, Ophelia was retreating back into the cave of the palace once more, her sword drawn. She was light on her feet, dodging the raging fire that the dragon shouted at her.
Ulfric's heart skipped a beat when she lost her footing at one point and tripped backwards, the beast advancing on her with great speed, its teeth bared. Ophelia struggled to stand but did so quickly and continued moving, luring it just in front of the line – nearly under the trap.
Ophelia looked up once and then down, her swift movements confusing the dragon. With a little more movement, the dragon had been baited across the line and the trap fell, its chains rattling noisily and landing on the beast with a loud crack, pinning it down. Ulfric let out the breath he had been holding and began walking towards Ophelia, who was catching her breath to the side of the maw of the creature.
"Are you alright?" He asked, placing his hand on her shoulder.
"Of course. Did you see me trip?" She giggled.
"I did." He let his hand fall and smirked.
"Nid! Horvutah med kodaav…" The dragon called out, its coarse rumbling shaking the room.
Ophelia's smile left her face and she moved from Ulfric's side to the dragon's huge face, placing a hand on his maw.
"Zu'u bonaar. You went through a great deal of trouble to put me in this… humiliating position." It grumbled in the common tongued, drawing a surprised gasp from the guards. Ophelia didn't respond, only stared into the beasts eyes. "Hind siiv Alduin, hm? No doubt you want to know where to find Alduin?"
"That's right. Where's he hiding?" Ophelia's voice was hoarse and firm with command.
"Rinik vazah… An apt phrase. Alduin bovul. One reason I came to your call was to test your thu'um myself. Many of us have begun to question Alduin's lordship. Whether his thu'um was truly the strongest. Among ourselves, of course. Mu ni meyye. None were yet ready to openly defy him."
The woman wasn't having any of his tired excuses and raised her voice, "you were telling me where to find Alduin?"
The dragon's tail curved underneath him as he tried to take a seated position while underneath the trap. Ulfric watched with amusement as the creature that so many feared squirmed with discomfort.
"Unslaad Krosis. Innumerable pardons, Dovahkiin. I digress. He has traveled to Sovngarde to gather his strength, devouring the sillsejour… The souls of the mortal dead. A privilege he jealously guards… His door to Sovngarde is at Skuldafn, one of his ancient fanes high in the Eastern Mountains. Mindoraan, pa ok middovahhe lahvraan til. I surely do not need to warn you that all his remaining strength is marshalled there. Zu'u lost ofan hin laan…" The beast's answer was long and difficult to understand for Ulfric, but Ophelia nodded, pacing in front of him, her brow furrowed in deep thought.
"Now that I have answered your question, will you allow me to go free?" His inquiry was low and practically submissive.
"Do you promise to serve me?" Ophelia negotiated shrewdly, her arms crossed.
The dragon's pupils narrowed into thin slits, "Aam? Serve you? …No. Ni tiid. If and when you defeat Alduin, I will reconsider. Hm… Krosis. There is one detail about Skuldafn I neglected to mention…"
"Tell me what you know, then."
"Only this – you have the thu'um of the dovah, but without the wings of one, you will never set foot into Skuldafn. Of course, I could fly you there, but not while imprisoned like this."
Ophelia's eyes narrowed as she watched him with skepticism, "We seem to be at an impasse, then."
"Indeed… Orin brit ro. I cannot leave here until you defeat Alduin, which you cannot do without my help. Hin aar, orin nu. And yet here I am, still your prisoner. You will release me – ro laan – if in return I promise to take you to Skuldafn and stop helping Alduin?"
"I'm still wondering if I can trust you…"
"Onikaan koraav gein miraad. It is wise to recognize when you only have one choice. And you can trust me. Zu'u ni tahrodiis. Alduin has proven himself unworthy to rule. I go my own way now. Free me, and I will carry you to Skuldafn."
She looked down at the floor for several moments, a look of near sorrow crossing her features, "very well. I will accept your offer. But you will stay here for a few while I collect my belongings and get prepared. I shall return within the hour and I will free you." Ulfric surveyed her, trying to gather what her plan was.
The dragon huffed but accepted in the dragon language.
"He is to not be bothered at all, am I understood?" She yelled to the whole room, which responded with a peculiar silence.
She turned and began walking to Ulfric; her arms still crossed defensively, "I need to talk to you in private."
Her words were rushed and severe. Ulfric was surprised but nodded calmly, motioning for her to follow. She did and he led her back to the room he woke up in. As the two walked in silence, he thought about how she would go about luring Alduin out of Sovngarde, but opted to ask her once they were in private.
Once in the room, he shut the door and turned to look at her. She was already sitting on the edge of the bed, her hand placed over her mouth and her eyes closed. Ulfric immediately moved next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, "Ophelia? What's wrong?"
Ophelia opened her bloodshot eyes, whispering sadly, "did you not hear that?"
"I heard… a little." He admitted. His listening had faded in and out – mainly because it was difficult to understand the dragon and partly because he couldn't stop watching the beast's actions.
Ophelia's eyes were wide and her hands trembled visibly, "I'm… I'm going to have to go to Sovngarde. If I go, I don't think I'll be coming back."
Ulfric's stomach and he felt cold all over. Memories of his past grief came back to him and hit him like a tidal wave. He had come this far and through this much, only to be blindsided by the cruelty of fate once more. He had fallen in love with her and now she was being ripped away from him.
"I'm scared. For the first time in all of this…" She stilled, bringing the palms of her hands up to her eyes to stop the tears that were about to fall.
Nearly losing his nerve, Ulfric tried his best to find some solution, "then let me come with you."
"Absolutely not. Your people need you." Her face was flushed and tears threatened to fall but she fought them off valiantly. It was killing Ulfric to see her like this – so afraid and helpless.
He couldn't find his voice. Even if he did, the words wouldn't come to him. He took several deep breaths, trying to straighten out his thoughts. Her destiny was prearranged and unrelenting. It tore at him from the inside out. He remained silent for some time, trying to quell whatever emotional outburst was trying to break free from him.
"This… This is your purpose." Ulfric rasped out, "I'm not going to sit here and pretend that in the grand scheme of things that we are more important than Alduin's defeat. To me, you're the most important thing and I would want nothing more than to stop you from doing this."
Ophelia raised her head and looked to him. He glanced at her but immediately looked away, her display of sentiment far too strong for him to handle appropriately. She didn't need him to be fragile right now. Ultimately, this wasn't fair to her. She was the one sacrificing her life – now wasn't the time for his own self-pity.
"But this isn't about wants or desires. This is about survival and the sanctity of Tamriel. I need you to fight and to win. Everyone needs you to win," he started, bringing his hand to hers and grasping it tightly, letting his eyes fall onto her finally, "Your destiny is now at the mercy of the Nine. You need to defeat Alduin, regardless of whether or not your life is at stake."
He let out a quivering breath, feeling his chest ache painfully as he tried to find optimism in this massive cesspool of despair, "If you come back, then I will be waiting for you. If not, then I expect to see you waiting for me when my day comes."
Ophelia heaved a sigh, "Don't speak in absolutes. You have your life to live; I want you to be happy."
"I'm not happy without you. I'm convinced that the Divines sent you to me not only as a lesson of compassion and humility but as my soul mate. You're wild, ambitious, and very, very stubborn. But I love it. I love you."
It was a simple declaration, hardly anything that he had ever read about in stupid novels, but it was worth it. Her full lips parted to speak but she halted last second and moved towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck, bringing him into a kiss. It was in this kiss that he had never felt happier before. The pain was still there, yes. But the confession brought about a sense of serenity that was all encompassing.
"I love you." She murmured against his lips in between kisses and through the dense tunnel of emotion he felt himself weakening. He pulled her close to him by the small of her waist, nearly crushing her with a hug. She buried her face into his neck again and they sat like that for some time in reverie.
She returned the gesture with as much strength as she could, "I should go. I don't want to test Odahviing's patience."
He pulled away, "do you already have everything you need?"
"Lydia has my things by the balcony."
Ulfric felt immensely protective of her, then. Although he knew better, he held onto her, a forewarning feeling inside of him thrashing to get out. With a great implementation of willpower, he let her go from his embrace. She moved to the tankard of water and cleaned off her face with it and a rag she found. Once the red flush of emotion had left her face she took a deep breath, viewing him with a caring expression.
She was his lover and he was letting her go to her death. It frustrated him to no end. Noticing his frustration, Ophelia moved close to him and placed a hand against his cheek, bringing his face forward. She placed a loving, chaste kiss on his lips. The chastity of the kiss didn't last long, however, as Ulfric pulled her close to him and deepened it. He wanted to take her, hard and desperately. She pulled away, prying his wandering hands form her body with gentleness.
"Next time, darling. I promise." She attempted to jest and it lightened the mood considerably. All he could do was hold out hope.
Yes.
Next time.
"I love you." He repeated the confession as she opened the door.
She smirked, reminding him of her self-assurance back in Solitude, "I know."
He would have laughed but the situation dampened whatever humor he experienced. Instead, he only smiled sadly, letting his fingers linger on her arm before she left the room, the sound of her footfalls echoing lightly down the corridor.
Ophelia, thoroughly overwrought from her encounter with Ulfric, strode from the room as quickly as possible. Their confession of love had raised her morale while simultaneously breaking her heart. She wanted to stay with him, to offer him all that he had deserved. She didn't want to die – but it was time for her to finally give up the control she desperately clung to.
It was pitiful and painful, but the nagging desperation she felt to stop what her fate had to be defeated before she moved on with this. If she was to defeat Alduin, she needed to forsake her trepidation. As she walked back onto the balcony and spotted Odahviing, whatever apprehension that lay within her had dissolved.
She moved to Lydia's side, throwing the bag that sat next to the other woman over her shoulder and securing her quiver around her back, "Lydia…"
Lydia's eyes were cast down with unhappiness, and the housecarl remained silent. Ophelia reached out to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "I'm going to make this quick, because I don't fancy crying. I don't know how this is going to end for me. But I want you to go to High Hrothgar and wait for me, just in case. If I come back, I will head there first. If I don't… everything I own is yours. Watch over Whiterun for me."
Lydia's eyes were brimmed with tears and Ophelia cursed inwardly. She wasn't good at goodbyes. Feeling guilty, she reached forward and did the only thing she could think of, to hug Lydia, "thank you for everything."
Lydia nodded and when they pulled away from each other, she saw that the woman squared her jaw with fortitude. Ophelia smiled slightly and backed away, back to Odahviing's face.
"Dovahkiin, are you ready?" The dragon purred with discontent.
"Yes…" She looked up at the guards at the top and motioned towards the trap, "release him!"
"Are you sure?" One guard asked disbelievingly.
"Do it!"
The trap hauled up off of the Dragon and he lifted his head, shaking it as if he was a wet dog, and he slowly turned, walking towards the far edge of the balcony where the sun shone down stunningly. Ophelia followed, each of her steps feeling heavy and forlorn.
Once at the far edge, Odahviing lowered his head down to her level, indicating for her to climb upon him. She faltered, her eyes darting to where she stood just minutes prior. Ulfric was there, looking on without reaction. The sweet grasp of temptation pulled at her and she was so close to running back to him. Yet she didn't. Tearing her eyes away from the gut wrenching scene behind her, she climbed onto the dragon.
Tears brimmed as she felt the dragon begin to flap his wings. She clutched onto him, yearning to jump off. This was the toughest thing she had ever had to do. Once in the air, Odahviing soared up and away from the city, the majesty of such a moment lost on Ophelia. She looked over her shoulder in misery as the palace grew tinier with each flap of Odahviing's wings.
'Dovahkiin.'
Ophelia hacked and slashed her way through Skuldafn with relative ease. She withheld no mercy. If this is what they Gods intended for her, then she will please them with the blood of those that stand in her way.
'Krosis, Dovahkiin. Pogaan krosis.'
Fire flew from her hands and mouth, raining over the Draugr that stood up to her in a vicious assault. Screeching, the undead souls withered away, smoldering and wounded. Not wanting to carry more than she had to, she surpassed the loot and options to explore. Her destiny was calling – she wouldn't make it wait.
'Din los dez.'
The voice rumbled painfully in her ears, never relenting. It had begun as soon as she stepped foot at the temple and hadn't ended, but she didn't mind. It drove her onward. The spoken tongue, although she couldn't understand fully, did nothing more than remind her of her intense hatred of Alduin and this whole damn quest. Her sword fell onto a Draugr scourge lord's neck once, twice, three times – until its head spiraled onto the floor.
'Hin mal gein nis lahney.'
Shaking from adrenaline, she shakily unlocked the door that led to the outside, where the portal was in view. She released a sigh of relief and allowed a small smile. One step closer. Closing her eyes, she let out a harsh whisper, "laas yah nir!"
When she opened her eyes, four spots appeared in her direct vision. Three draugr patrolled the general area ahead of her, and up the staircase, where the portal shined brightly, another light was emanated. Marching ahead, she drew her sword back up with one hand and brought up the other, which cradled a lightning bolt.
She charged at them with no inhibitions. The anger inside of her at the Gods, at Alduin, at this destiny of hers – it all drove her to a pure state of bloodlust that she had never entered before. Forsaking all sense of technique, she set to kill as savagely as she could, teeth bared and blade at the ready.
The draugrs fell one by one, and soon she was left alone out in the frigid air. She stopped at the base of the steps and inhaled deeply, letting the cool air refresh her as best as possible before going up to the portal.
As she made her ascent up the steps, the figure that waited at the top of the small staircase ahead came into vision. It was a dragon priest. Unaware that she was there, he looked into the portal and simply watched. Ophelia pulled her bow from her back and drew an arrow back, letting it fly through the air. It hit the priest in the back and he turned to face her, seeing her squatting form instantly.
She stood and drew another arrow, releasing it. It hit him in the shoulder and he collapsed back, trying to gather his bearings. As she reached back to draw another arrow, he quickly drew the staff from its holding place, closing the portal and aimed it at her.
She shot the arrow but didn't see if it had hit him, as a bolt of lightning struck her in the middle of the chest, knocking her back. Catching her breath, she looked up and the dragon priest was floating towards her, the staff at the ready. She drew her sword and forced herself up, charging at the ancient being. It took a lot of dodging and senseless hacking, but he eventually fell to the ground in a lifeless heap.
Heaving a sigh when he fell, she hurriedly salvaged the staff from his remains and placed it back onto its pedestal. The large circle in front of her collapsed in on itself and a great wind accompanied by a massive white radiance shot from it – forming a pillar of other worldly brilliance to the sky. The pull of the rushing wind pulled Ophelia's body closer to the edge of the platform and she fought hard to keep her footing.
Closing her eyes, she shouted aura whisper and opened them back up, casting an eye over the scenery before her. If she was to come back here, she wanted to make sure she didn't come back to any surprises. Nothing.
Ophelia walked to the platform's edge tentatively and peeked braced herself to jump in. As she did a wave of nausea reared its ugly head. This was the point of no return. She nervously refastened her equipment tightly to her body and sheathed her weapons.
As she gave herself a once over, something odd caught her eye. In her field of vision, a faint pink glow fluttered along the lower reaches of her body and she looked down at it fully. The aura whisper had picked up on apparent life directly below her, the glow of the soul shining through the stone floor and through her lower torso. The silhouette of light was large enough to be not far underneath her, but still small enough that she couldn't determine what it was, exactly. She furrowed her brow. That wasn't something she saw earlier.
Shuffling to her left, dangerously close to the edge of the platform, she attempted to gain perspective of where the glow spawned from. As she moved, she watched her footing carefully, as to make sure she wasn't going to slip into the raging column of wind and light.
Looking back down, she was shocked to see the glow wasn't below where she was just standing and looked around below her. It continued to dimly shine through her stomach. Her eyes widened suddenly and she placed a hand over her armor. It wasn't from below her, it was inside of her. The glow radiated from her womb, and she was nearly overcome by unsteadiness. Swallowing thickly, she moved again, to make sure she wasn't seeing things. Every step she took confirmed her worst fear.
Aura whisper detected nearly every kind of soul – living, dead, and undead. However, it didn't detect one's self… Ophelia trembled as the realization set in. She was pregnant.
"No…" she muttered to herself, shaking her head. She grasped the armor in front of her womb and began looking around for an escape from the temple. As she moved from the edge of the platform her boot caught on a piece of stone that jutted from the uneven floor, causing her to fall to the ground with a loud thud. The fall knocked the wind out of her and she gasped for breath as she struggled to stand.
She had to get out of here – she couldn't do this with child…
Falling to the ground again, she felt her body slowly being drawn into close proximity of the entry. Her leg dangled off of the edge of the platform and her fingers dug into the stone, desperately seeking traction. Letting out a cry, her fingertips raw from how tightly she gripped the stone, she utilized all of her strength to pull herself away from the power of the gateway to Sovngarde.
The force only seemed to gain more strength against her and she choked out a cry. Her fingers slowly gave out and she was pulled off of the platform by the force. She fell to the very edge of the portal with an unforgiving crack. Yelling out from the pain of the fall, she put forth a valiant effort in trying to stand up again, but couldn't. The decline of the edge she was sliding down was too steep and the force of the portal far too strong. She slid the rest of the way down and into the light – feeling her body feeling weightless as she was transported into the unknown.
AN: Also, I figured some people might find it funny that I purposefully made a playlist of very, very depressing classical music (namely Am I Not Merciful? from Gladiator - SO DRAMATIC AND SAD UGH.)
Take care and I'll see you next week! :D
