Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Studios and I own nothing at all except for the OC and plot. There is no profit made at all, really.
Summary: Because there was a deeper, darker version of Dragonrend… Now Alduin must learn to live again, not as a devourer of worlds, but as a man.
Genre: Adventure/Humour
A/N: What can I say? The Muse is on a roll and I have all my lovely reviewers to thank for that! Thank you so much for the encouraging comments and being so specific about what worked in the scene. Like I said, I hardly write action and this story is a good platform to improve. But it makes me so nervous too (!) and it was just wonderful to see that everyone had a good read. I am really grateful and can't thank everyone enough. ^_^ Some of you are wondering how is it that Alduin can absorb Dragon souls as well. According to UESPWiki (the bastion of Skyrim knowledge :P), it's an ability unique to the Dov and if the Dragonborn can do this, so can other dragons. Alduin, in many ways, is identical to Freyja in his present condition as well. So anything she can do, he can do too. And lastly, to Noartwist, you read my mind.
DRAGONREND
X.
So that was what he looked like, at this moment of terrible rapture. Silhouetted against faint stars and crowned by pale moonlight, I was reminded that to the dragons who were worshipped as gods, this was a god amongst them.
It also occurred to me, as I lay there propped up on my elbows, that this was how I must look to the guards, to those who witnessed the eating of one soul by another. Little wonder then that I was never fully regarded as being entirely human. I had never seen myself truly, not like this, not until him. And suddenly I wondered if this was how it would end, if he would end up consuming and rendering unto me a fate worse than service in Oblivion to certain Daedric Princes. Or would I take him and absorb all that he was?
'What would I see?' I wondered, looking up at Alduin whose lips had parted slightly and I knew how he felt at that moment, knew the hunger that opened up to take in a soul. Greed streaked through me, hot and unwanted. As the soul dispersed and was absorbed, it brought along with it an immortal lifetime of memories, experiences, skills. Some gleamed brighter than others, those were the ones which could be seen into clearly, which spilled images, carved emotions, taught lessons about the Thu'um, the connection between soul, language and magic. And along with those, residual life force restored the body.
Glittering amber eyes snapped upon and he leapt lightly from the enormous white skull, a conquering king. That was when I realised that he was no longer injured and neither was I. My dislocated arm had been mended and I had been too busy staring at Alduin to notice I had been putting weight on it for the past few minutes.
Before I could do anything, he was at my side, lifting me into a sitting position with a firm touch that was surprisingly gentle. "You are unharmed," he breathed, clearly surprised. One arm held me in place firmly and the other lifted, stroked warm fingers across my forehead and I felt him pluck the blood soaked strands of hair away. "Your wounds are gone."
"I have healing spells of my own, and those are far superior to anything your kind has conjured…"
When had he done that? Between the dragon, the burst of flames and ice, and the Shouts, he could have used the Thu'um and I would never have heard it. The feeling of Alduin's touch on my previously broken wrist galvanised me into action. "Well, I healed myself. While you were…" I gestured at the remains of the dragon, escaping his grasp and watched as his gaze became guarded. I wondered if he ever thought about me taking his soul.
"Of course."
Sliding back from him on the snow-strewn ash, I hurried to my feet, hands reflexively dusting at hopelessly stained breeches. Suddenly, I found it hard to look at him. "You saved my life." A single Shout would not slay a dragon and if he had acted any later, I would have been killed.
A crooked smile touched Alduin's mouth, a gleam in the dark, and then it disappeared. "I, on the other hand, was convinced you wanted to throw it away. You should not have interfered."
"I was trying to help!"
"Any assistance you rendered was marginal. I had the matter under control."
Only Alduin would refer to a vicious, fire-breathing Ancient Dragon as a 'matter'. "Says the person with the broken ribs," I muttered. Instantly I realised the mistake I had made. Freyja Loose Lips, that was probably my true name and a deserved one.
"How did you know that?" Alduin's voice was sharp, his gaze sharper still as he rounded on me. We had been walking towards the skeleton, its white ribs shining dully in the darkness like a great cage. Now he stopped and turned, a looming shadow save for those brilliant eyes that pinned me in my tracks.
"Anyone who gets caught across the middle by a dragon's wing is bound to have a broken rib or two, especially if he isn't wearing armour." I smiled sweetly at him, taking care to deliver my words in the most condescending tone possible while praying to Talos that Alduin would not hear the fierce hammering of my heart. "That is common knowledge," I added as I start walking past him again.
"May I remind you whose wonderful idea it was to practice sword fighting without the armour? And for once, when I needed him, your damned horse was nowhere to be found."
"No, you may not." My eyes tracked the dull glow of my Daedric blade which was lying amidst the bones. It was clean, the blood and flesh that must have stained it vanished into air. "And it was your wonderful idea to send Shadowmere away during practice sessions." At that time, I had thought it a reasonable request. Shadowmere could not seem to accept the fact that practice was merely practice. Each time Alduin landed a blow, Shadowmere treated it as a legitimate reason to attempt murder. Now I knew better. Nothing good ever came of listening to Alduin.
"Your Thu'um brought the Dovah."
The sound of my sword hilt hitting the sheath as I slid it home punctuated his reprimand. 'His version of you-started-it.' Resentment bubbled up, mostly because he was right and all the rest was because I did not want to apologise to Alduin. After all, he had never once apologised for any of the inconveniences or mistakes he made. The man had never even thanked me once!
Cold air touched my skin, raising goosebumps and making me aware of just how much crusted blood covered me. I could smell soot on my person and was suddenly glad that night had fallen. "I shouldn't have done that," I conceded. It was the most I could bring myself to say.
"Why did you?" Alduin had not moved but his voice was lower, sounded closer to my ears than before and I was not sure if it was a trick of the wind or due to some other ability he possessed that I had not learnt of. An image of him surrounded by soul light floated past my eyes and suddenly I felt my inexperience in comparison to his ageless years. For a moment the feeling of being overwhelmed swamped me, along with the doubts in my heart that clamoured loudly about the folly of saving him.
"Because in my dreams, you do not stop."
Whether the answer satisfied him or not, I did not know. I swallowed, felt the dryness of my mouth and realised that silence could be deafening. So I did the only thing I knew. Counting the ribs, I stopped at the sixth one, knelt down and searched the ground, using the blade of my Elven dagger to smooth over small mounds of soil ripped from the devastated ground. Finally, I found what I searched for. Plucking the gems from the earth, I blew on them gently, using my fingers to brush off whatever ash and dirt remained.
"I believe these are yours." When he did not respond, I took his hand, opened it and dropped the emerald and diamonds onto his palm. They lay between us, sparkling like stars, cold as the quiet that descended as we made our way back to the inn.
Eydis let out a small scream when the two of us stepped through the door. Immediately Skuli and Leontius disappeared, presumably to get hot water and clothes. "It was a dragon, wasn't it? We heard the roaring but I thought you would be fine. I was not sure about Aldin though…" She blushed as Alduin turned his head and fixed her with a quailing stare. "You are both unhurt?"
"We are much better than we look," I assured her. "And Aldin was the one who slew the dragon." I refused to look at him even though I could feel his gaze shift to me.
"He did?" Eydis gasped.
"He did?" Skuli's squeak made us all turn and I bit back a grin when I noticed how large, how noticeably worshipful the boy's eyes were. Leontius on the other hand, looked singularly unimpressed.
"Freyja helped. A little." Before I could kick him, he went to his room, his latest and most innocent worshipper trailing after him with buckets of water.
"That man is insufferable," I muttered, yanking off the leather strip I used to bind my hair in its braid as soon as I entered the room.
"Men usually are, initially. And then they grow on you."
"The only growing Aldin is doing concerns the size of his head and unfortunately, not his brain." It was entirely childish of me to be slamming my weapons on the table as I removed them but I couldn't help it. "Why are you smiling?" I asked irritably.
"I have never seen you upset before." Eydis eyes sparkled but she smoothed away the smile.
"That is because I've only ever had Shadowmere for company; he does not vex me needlessly. If I had a choice, I would stick to horses." Even undead ones, although Eydis did not need to know that. The red eyes were a clear sign of some kind of magic but she was best kept ignorant of the fact that Shadowmere had spawned from a pool of darkness and was likely as old as the Brotherhood itself.
Once she left, I stripped off and began to scrub myself clean. The water was red and my hair back to its usual pale gold by the time I was done. The clothes were beyond saving and I took the spare ones I kept in the cupboard. Always the same white shirt and tanned breeches. I was a creature of habit.
After helping Eydis empty the basin and clear the buckets, I took three bottles of mead and an extra candle. There would be no sleeping tonight, at least not until I tired myself out with reading and drink. Beneath the fatigue lay a fear that had not reared its ugly head for months now and I was too tired to suppress it anymore. Death had come so close today, and once again, I had been almost helpless, crippled by pain while someone else had to rescue me.
The book was opened, the ink clear and black as the day it had been written but I could not see it for the face that surfaced from the cream coloured pages. Smooth blue-grey skin, liquid dark eyes and a smile that appeared when enemies arrived.
"It is a lonely thing, facing all the dangers of Skyrim by yourself. Come and find me if you decide that you miss my companionship."
How I wish I had forgotten those words. But I needed help. The Horn had to be retrieved and I could not fail the first trial given to me by Arngeir. So Jenassa had followed me in and when we finally emerged, only one of us would live and I was seething with rage and shame because there was nothing to show for her sacrifice except my double failure.
There was no tomb or underground cave now that I entered without the fleeting memory of cold stone pressed against my face, the taste of my blood in my mouth, the inability to move while Jenassa's arrows whirled and flew, and when the bow ran empty, the sword that sang out in defence as she half-dragged me back to the surface. My indomitable companion, wilted by horror and fear, felled by wounds she endured until we reached the sun outside.
"Dragonborn…" She had smiled briefly, her voice reduced to a whisper, a cold hand upon mine as my hot tears fell. "What you lack in wisdom, you make up for in courage." I felt damned by her words, not realising at that time she was asking me to be brave. And like a coward, I ran and found myself in Riften. And that was when Brynjolf met me.
Something twisted in my chest then and I knew I had to start reading or face the consequence of a sleepless night or one filled with ugly dreams in which I ran, screamed and never escaped the darkness that echoed with Draugr growling. The thought of it made me reach for and drain an entire bottle of mead.
"Wulfmare's Guide to Better Thieving," I read out loud, trying to steady the slight shake in my voice. "So, you want to make it as a cutpurse. You want to live the life of a criminal, always one step ahead of everyone and pockets brimming with septims. Maybe it appeals to you to try and earn a living by robbing some wealthy merchants or extorting your local shopkeepers? Let me give you a bit of advice—"
"You need to pay more attention to your surroundings."
Instinct and the fact that I was already on edge clamped my hands around the book as I slammed it shut, flinging it in the direction of the voice before I recognized as Alduin's. My dagger was already in my hand when I sagged back into the chair, deflated with adrenaline running through exhausted veins.
"A book about thieving. Now what is the esteemed Dovahkiin of legend doing with material such as this?" Having caught the book rather neatly before it hit him in the face, Alduin stepped past the doorway into my room and slid the door shut behind him.
"I don't recall inviting you in."
His only response was to lift an eyebrow and against my will, I suddenly felt very childish. Several thousands of years as a god probably made him an expert at making people feel small, so I was hardly to blame for being made to feel this way. 'Or it could be simply because you know you are being rude,' my conscience piped up.
'Rude?' I shot back, outraged. 'I was not the one in the doorway spying!' And that reminded me… "Just how long were you standing there?" I demanded, trying not to pay attention to the fact that Alduin had pulled up the other chair, settled himself comfortably into it and there was not much room to back away since I was next to a wall.
There had been some time to think while trudging back to the inn and during his bath. When he was done, the Dragonborn was still unfinished, as evinced by the sound of splashing water he could hear through her door and that also gave him some precious minutes to consider the day's experience.
The room was dark, as he preferred, and he was stretched out on the bed because it soothed the aches of this body. Alduin blinked, traced the slight cracks and the patterns of the wall unerringly, but his mind had was elsewhere.
Fire exploded against dragon hide and although he knew very well how much that hurt, he also knew it was not going to kill the dragon. When it loomed over Freyja, Alduin had known one moment of sheer panic and without thinking, he spoke the Thu'um to bind his wounds even as he sprinted towards the combatants. Her Shout pierced the air, conjured a blizzard of ice, sleet and snow that even he had to acknowledge was a force to be reckoned with. That was when he knew he had seconds to save her. She was badly injured—the woman could barely push herself upright—and the Thu'um would not be at her disposal in the moments that followed.
The rage that had given him the strength to drive the sword hilt deep into the Dovah's skull was not entirely the same one that motivated him before in countless battles. It had been born from the knowledge, and then the sight, of Freyja on the ground and at the mercy of another. If she had to die, it would be only at his hand. No one was going to take her from him.
She did not like his touch; that much was clear when he inspected her to see if the other had left any marks. Alduin opened his hand, rolled the precious gems on his palm and felt her fingers ghost over his once more, a phantom touch borne of remembrance.
Beyond the wooden door, he could hear voices, the soft clink of glass against glass, the Dragonborn and Eydis wishing each other a good night. The sound of her door closing. The distinct lack of a latch being turned.
He rose, dropped the gems on the table and on silent feet, padded across the floor to her room. He was extremely surprised and somewhat pleased when the door opened partially without it being immediately slammed in his face or followed by outraged exclamations.
It parted further to reveal a bowed head; the slumped curve of her back reminded him of defeat. Her golden hair ran freely to her waist, her hands were holding a book but the pages remained unturned. She was not seeing the words he could not read; she was somewhere far away. 'Somewhere she does not wish to be,' he surmised, feeling pinpricks of curiosity when she reached for the bottle and downed its contents within minutes.
When she actually began reading out loud from the book, he felt the curiosity blossom further. Although they had been residing at the inn for two months—Skuli had taught him the human way of counting time—the Dragonborn was still a mystery in many ways. And the Dov, when intrigued by something, could be a very inquisitive species. Perhaps if he could understand the riddle that she was, he would understand the possessive urge that had crept in the back door when he had not been looking. Besides, anything he learnt about her was bound to be useful. He still had questions from the night the bandits had attacked them in the inn.
"…Maybe it appeals to you to try and earn a living by robbing some wealthy merchants or extorting your local shopkeepers? Let me give you a bit of advice—"
"You need to pay more attention to your surroundings," he drawled. He could have carved her up three ways with a blade by now. Although he had to admit that while the first strike might be his, the Dragonborn would probably go down with a fierce struggle and take him with her.
Before he drew his next breath, the book came flying at his face. Plucking it out of the air, he realised it was a diversion and that she was already half on her feet with that gilded dagger in her hand. Her eyes were wide and slightly wild before recognition dawned in them. An expression of profound irritation crossed her face as she sat back down, the dagger dropping to the table with a muted clatter.
"A book about thieving. Now what is the esteemed Dovahkiin of legend doing with material such as this?" The cover was worn around the edges, the lines of the pages wrinkled. It was a book that had been read several times before. Either Freyja was an extremely slow learner, or she read to comfort herself during dark hours. Although he would have preferred to think it was the former, he knew well it was the latter.
She was so easy to needle. "I don't recall inviting you in."
Reaching behind him, he pulled the door shut even as he stepped into the room. He looked down at her, lifted an imperious brow and realised that her cheeks were slightly pink. She had the good grace to realise her churlishness. Her eyes dropped, flickered sideways and when she did not say anything else, he drew up the spare chair and settled himself into it. He also made sure that he boxed her in against the wall. There was always something infinitely satisfying about cornering prey.
When she surfaced from her internal dialogue, for the woman had the strangest propensity to talk to herself, she realised what he had done. Her jaw tightened, she did not bother to move back because that would have put the dagger further away from her, and she demanded to know how long he had been standing there. Her manners, for a human faced with a god, were appalling as always. But Freyja had possibly never seen him that way. At least she saw him as being more of a man than a deity. If she had not, he would be dead.
Setting the book on the table space between them, Alduin reached out, picked up another he recognised and opened it. The writing, like the people, was soft, the strokes graceful and gentle. Such things were easily broken.
"Exactly why are you looking at that? We both know you cannot read."
More human than Dovah. That was how she thought of herself. "Just like how you are unable to read the Words on the Walls."
"That is true," she acknowledged coolly. "I don't have to learn them."
"You choose not to." He had cursed her under his breath in Dragon Tongue more times than he could count. Her only response was to roll her eyes or laugh. She had never once showed interest in knowing anything about it. "As for what I am doing here, I do believe you offered to teach me how to cast spells."
"Healing spells," she reminded him. "You wish to learn?" Her eyes flicked from the book back to his face and understanding dawned in them. "You couldn't use a Shout when the dragon arrived, could you?"
It would be a long time before he forgot the feeling of helplessness, or the way the blood flowed freely from her injuries. She did not have to know that though; he would let her jump to whatever conclusions she had arrived at. "Not immediately after teaching you a lesson."
"That was a lesson? Breaking my wrist and almost cracking open my head was a lesson?" She sounded so outraged that when her fingers twitched, he half-expected her to go for the dagger.
"Those, I did not intend for. I had forgotten how fragile you humans are."
"I'm sure after this evening you'll find it hard to forget that fact."
"For once you are right—ouch!" He glared at Freyja who was smirking in her chair. "You kicked me!"
"Consider that payback." She reached for another bottle of mead and to his surprise, handed it to him. "And this an apology."
After a moment, he accepted it from her. "You are a strange creature, Freyja Dragonborn."
"So everyone keeps telling me. Almost everyone."
"And who was the one who did not?" He did not like the way the edges of her mouth curled up in a tiny, almost secretive smile, or the way her pale blue eyes shone for a moment.
"A friend."
It was another human male, he was sure of it. And while he would have been very interested in obtaining that friend's name, Alduin also realised that she was not going to say anymore about her 'friend'. Taking a tentative sip from the bottle, he started in surprise at the cold sweetness that spread over his tongue, lingering even after the liquid made its way down his throat to nestle warmly in his belly. "What is this?"
"Nord mead. Do you like it?"
He took another careful sip again. "It has its merits."
"Enough to consider not destroying the world?" She shrugged at his pointed stare. "You can't blame a Dragonborn for trying."
"Try again," he replied dryly. She tried not to smile but her chuckle could not be entirely stifled. "You find this amusing?"
"Isn't it? Look at us. We're sworn enemies and under any other circumstances, we'd be trying to cut the other's heart out. Instead, we've saved each other and are having a drink. If that's not funny…"
She had a point there. If anyone had told him such an event was to occur in his future, he would have killed them for such foolish blasphemy and declared the world would have ended twice over before such a travesty took place.
"You haven't answered my question. What are you doing with a book that teaches you to steal?"
He watched as she took another drink, the curve of her throat and the way it moved, the pale lashes glinting as she stared at the candle's flame. Then she glanced at him and he knew she would share at least that much.
"Even esteemed Dovahkiins need money to eat. Somehow the bards tend to forget about that when they write their songs."
"You do not seem to be poor now."
"That was a long time before. You should have seen me—" Freyja's eyes widened slightly and suddenly, she was overcome with a fit of coughing which required a very long drink.
"You were saying?"
"I was very poor and thieving was one way to survive. You said you wanted to learn some healing spells?"
Alduin's smiles were usually reserved for moments of great triumph, which usually meant someone who opposed him had died a terrible death. But at the moment, he found her a most entertaining creature. "Your conversational evasion skills need a great deal more practice."
She scowled before snatching the book from his hands. "Repeat the words after me."
"As you wish." When she glared at him again, he moved his chair back, placing himself out of reach of her boot. "Do proceed."
She muttered something about patronising bastards that he was clearly meant to hear. Warmed by the mead and in an unusually good mood, Alduin did not mind in the least. For the moment, all was well.