I was trying to pack my things with just one hand, as my right arm was still on a sling. Since I like challenges and clearly this wasn't enough, I was also trying to retell a very complicated story to Aela. Since she's always up for an even bigger challenge, she was not making it easy.

"So she didn't even pretend to be glad to see you? If she truly thought you'd died, I mean…"

I had showed up at the Sleeping Giant Inn over a week after Delphine had expected me, with the documents I'd taken from the Thalmor Embassy. I'd been heavily injured on the way back (no, Sira, don't think about it!) and, to be perfectly honest, I had also expected more sympathy on Delphine's behalf. However, Delphine and Aela had disliked each other from the start, and there was no use fuelling that fire.

"Well, she did ask about the sling at first…"

"Right, with that lovely demeanour of hers, I'm sure she rushed to get you some tea."

"Maybe, if I'd asked for one. Either way, as soon as I handed her the dossiers, she flipped out at Esbern's name. I had to remind her to read the dragon one."

"That woman's nerve! You're Dragonborn, not her errand girl. They're supposed to be your errand boys, if anything."

"Well, she's got a much more delicate cover identity to guard. Plus, she has a point: if the Thalmor know nothing, this man's our best hope. Esbern was loremaster, not a foot soldier. A bookish type, you know? And right now, we have no other clues about the return of dragons."

"Right. So you have to go. Right now – we're not even waiting for your arm to get fully back in shape. You nearly died once this month already."

"And we've wasted enough time already. The Thalmor may be on their way to get him right now. I'm bringing a huge bodyguard along, am I not?"

She chuckled.

"Aye, his arms are large enough for both of you. You have no idea how thrilled he is to be taken along."

"Aela, my quiver." I was not biting that bait.

"Here it is, my dear. Full of arrows for your enemies hearts'." I was not acknowledging that smile. "Yous are heading out right after lunch, right? Try not spoiling his digestion with tales of farmboy."

I swear, I'm never trusting Athis again. Bad enough that he tried to kill me, the damn gossip.

Thanks to Linea and Martin (Vilkas' own destrier), the trip to Riften would take less than three days. The road was also one of the most used in the province, which made it relatively peaceful. Vilkas was still a quiet comrade, but ever since we'd promised each other to make an effort, it was no longer the aggressive silence of restrained insults – not even the awkward one of people who have nothing to say to each other.

At some point, his presence had become reassuring.

We had to camp once, and then spend another night at an inn. Both times, dinner conversation was pleasant, interesting, and more than polite. I had been reluctant to go into too many details about my little stint at the Embassy, but I felt relatively at ease to discuss my findings with him – and he didn't ask how I'd gotten them.

"In a rather ironic way" he pointed out while fighting with a particularly chewy piece of steak "I suppose it's very fitting that the Thalmor are not involved. All the other pieces fall together so precisely, especially Ulfric's, that there had to be one that didn't. Real life strangely arranges itself in the neat ways that it does in books."

"Is that supposed to be consolation?"

"Not quite. Although the Thalmor surely fancy themselves the authors of our book, so I'm glad their plots leave loose ends."

There was a particular loose end I had been meaning to ask – ever since I remembered it.

"Can I come to you with a stupid question now?"

"You can always come to me with questions, little one."

"Only your brother is allowed to call me that." I laughed. "What happened in Markarth like 20, maybe 25 years ago?"

He nearly dropped the piece of steak from his mouth.

"Sira, that's no stupid question. That's probably the most important question of the Civil War. Do you remember the Forsworn?"

"Sure. The romantics out west who want independence. I've killed a few already."

"After the Great War, they took total control of Markarth, and wanted to be their own province. It's not up to me to decide if they should've been granted it, or if they were good rulers. Facts are, they had deposed the jarl, who asked Ulfric to recover the city for him. Nobody knows how many died, but they say after the siege, Ulfric took all neutral citizens as foes, and slaughtered them equally, even green boys as young as 13. There were reports of tortured and mutilated women, too."

"That… explains a lot, I suppose." The look of absolute hatred in Hadvar's eyes. How does one continue living with that knowledge?

"Can I ask my own stupid question?"

"Ah, so my question was stupid. Cheers to that, mate." Our tankards clinked. "Go ahead."

"What happened with Athis while you two were off? No, don't make that face. Something happened. You keep avoiding each other's gaze. Did you two fight?"

"I was not aware he was avoiding me. Must be because I'm pretty."

I really hadn't noticed. I was damn aware I was avoiding him, though.

"Sira… Did you two… get involved somehow?"

"What?"

"Oh, like you'd be the first ones to." I remembered then he had been quite close with Skjor. No wonder he hated me.

"Ah, like the Harbinger would get involved with a whelp?"

"I'll tell him you said that"

"Please, don't. Seriously now, nothing like that happened. We didn't fight either – but I've been avoiding him a bit the past few days." He tried to kill me, you see. And I witnessed a very humiliating circumstance for him. I need a better excuse than that.

"We run into Hadvar at Solitude, as you well know." I continued "Don't you give me that look, even Ysolda from the market knows it. It was horrid, and Athis ended up witnessing a side of me that… I'm an entitled, bitchy girl, we both know that, so go figure. Can we focus on the end of the world again?"

"Sure, Sira. Did I mention there's been a series of vampire attacks? The more the closer you get to Morthal."

"You reckon I should add that to my to-do list for after Alduin's dealt with?"

"Divines, no! Would be about time to spend some time in Jorrvaskr, don't you think? It gets lonely, between all those papers."

My arse be lonely. Someone's not liking their coveted job, suddenly.

Riften is no Whiterun, but it's not Windhelm either. The canals and boats are quaint, and even despite the squalor and dirt, it's clear this was once a rich city. And what part of Skyrim is not full of desperation right now? It's the end times, after all.

It's also the home of a very decayed Thieves Guild. The Anvil chapter had been very powerful and highly ritualised in their initiations, so the one here seemed downright a joke. Nevertheless, when a rather good looking red head approached me with a very interesting, frankly easy way to make myself richer, I felt strongly tempted to accept. Pickpocketing and incrimination were a specialty of my past life, and it felt like the perfect way to wash away the lavish mistakes I'd made at the Embassy party.

I probably would've, if I hadn't had Honour Personified helping me carry my burdens, and if Red Handsomeness had not called me "lass". How I hate that word. Still, even Vilkas had to endure the thief's company for a while. Riften was too big, we couldn't just walk in and locate a man we've never seen with nothing more than a first name. I had to buy a lot of mead for a lot of shady characters, while wearing my "pretty" dress – the one with cleavage.

I bribed my way with the local innkeeper through some gems (my fondness for shiny things was NOT useless) and giggled a lot at a stableboy's lame puns to find something vaguely concrete: Ratway Vaults. Barely enough information to return to Vilkas, who had given up the search and was discussing smart-man-stuff with an Imperial.

"Ah, aren't we enjoying ourselves?" I asked, not caring about the conversation I was interrupting.

"Well, you seemed to be handling yourself nicely. I'm sure I would've been in the way of your tactical questions."

"Quite on the contrary, my foot on your arse would've made them a bit more persuasive."

"You're just being rude now, Sira." His cheeks were flushed and his grin so wide, I knew how much fun he was having. "May I introduce you to a traveller from your province? This is my Harbinger, as you can see, a gorgeous lady used to being obeyed."

First lass, now gorgeous. Is it something in the mead here making men sleazy?

"Good evening, I'm Marcurio, the local destruction expert."

I waved a dismissive hand at him. He looked like the type who would say such things even sober.

"I'm glad we're making friends already! Now, now, where's my tankard?"

"Gods, excuse the poor manners, milady. Here, have a drink on your friend. I was hoping to keep him company, but he clearly seems to prefer a female presence." Marcurio looked frightened at me. Great job, Sira. He could've helped.

"Wait, no. I'm sorry. I've been most rude myself. Let's all have a drink on me? I'm afraid it might take me a while to catch up to your conversation."

It didn't, and the morning after I had a reasonably clear head. Unfortunately, Vilkas' head wasn't as pristine, and Marcurio had turned out to be useless as far as rats went. The Ratway was essentially the sewage system beneath Riften, which had somehow become a ruined city within a city, managed by the Thieves Guild.

It was also a complete labyrinth, full of vagrants and filth. The entrance to the Ratway Vaults was supposedly in the deepest section, behind a tavern known as the Ragged Flagon. Fortunately, we managed to avoid getting lost, and even hungover, Vilkas' prowess could compensate for my useless arm.

We did well not to delay the trip any longer. The Thalmor were there, just at the tavern's entrance, looking for Esbern. The people drinking there did not even bother leaving their seats while we fought and killed them. Oblivion, what a sad, grim, criminal place – the only place where you could hide from the Thalmor, apparently.

Esbern was a venerable-looking old man who reminded me slightly of Kodlak – a thinner, ragged, hungry Kodlak who could summon a deadly Frost Atronach. I could picture him by a fire, reading silly tales to a grandkid, but somehow he'd ended up living in a sewer, friendless, trusting no one. Please, Talos, don't let me end up like this.

We rode back to Riverwood as quickly as Linea and Martin would take us, staying away from main roads. Fortunately, it was still dark when we reached our destination, allowing us to slip inside the Inn without much ruckus – after forcing Vilkas to change into normal clothes behind a barn. He shouldn't have complained as much, I had to remove my clothes outdoors as well.

The embrace between Delphine and Esbern could've been reward enough for the whole trip. They had clearly been great friends, and had a lot to discuss – beyond dragons and the end of the world. I had not thought Delphine capable of such mundane feelings, with her constant paranoia and bossing around, so the sight made me hopeful.

I'd have friends like that, once everything's over, right?

Vilkas and I felt as intruders in that reunion, so we stepped outside. I would've given every septim I'd earned to have someone who would embrace me like that – so I turned to the only place I could think of where I wasn't dragonborn or harbinger: Alvor's workshop.

We were still a couple of hours away from morning, so I just sat by the veranda, staring into the river. I forgot Vilkas was behind me, and he may have even left for a while. I simply waited.

"Alvor, is that you?"

"Sira! What are you doing here? I trust everything's allright?" He made a quick gesture towards my arm "Do you need to go inside?"

"No, it's fine. I'm fine. I was just… visiting. I see you got new pelts, need a hand tanning them?"

He seemed to understand.

"Sure. Knives are over there. Let me know if you need any help."

His features were almost exactly like his nephew's, but his gestures where a world away.

I got on my knees and began working, focusing on what my fingers were doing. It was easier that way. After a while, I heard Vilkas clearing his throat.

"Looks like your… friend is waiting for you, Sira." I sensed a slight accusation in Alvor's tone.

"My Shield-brother is in no great rush, I'm sure." I lifted my eyes from the tanner. "Alvor, this is Vilkas, a fellow companion" Nothing more "Vilkas, Alvor, Hadvar's uncle." I stared at Vilkas, as if saying Ask me who Hadvar is and I'll tan you.

"Ah, from Jorrvaskr! Well met then, sir. I got from Hadvar's letter that you've been made Harbinger, Sira?"

Shit, he's sent a letter about our last encounter.

"I have, yes"

"Well, no wonder you hadn't been visiting lately. You must be very busy."

"I'm sorry. I've been horribly ungrateful, as I'm sure he said in his letter already."

"Don't worry about it. It makes sense that it was awkward. I tried to explain it to my nephew, you know? That he shouldn't have scared you away, with all those intense emotions about the future… I suppose these are intense times, Sira, but it wasn't entirely your fault. Now, I'm sure that with access to the Skyforge, you're not here for steel."

"Right, exactly" Vilkas said, angrily. Suddenly he looked like old Vilkas. "What are we doing here again? I'm bloody freezing"

"If you'd like to go, THEN GO! I'm sure…they are done, so go back to the inn, I don't care!"

"I'll wait wherever I want! Your arm is still hurt anyway, and I promised Aela…" He trailed off, as if justifying his staying put.

"FINE! Do what you will."

I grabbed a bunch of ingots and began handing them to Alvor, who seemed very adept at ignoring bickering children.

"Now, Sira. You are not fine. Tell me." Alvor's voice was calm and comforting, but not emotional.

I was overflowing with emotion, so I bursted.

"I'm scared. There's dragons that for some reason only I can kill. There's dragon souls inside me, and there's a civil war, and vampire attacks, and the bloody Thalmor. And in the middle of all that, there's me and all these people I keep letting down and angering and lying to." Tears began to stream down my cheeks. "There's all these decisions I have to make, and if I make the wrong ones I'll end up dead, and if I don't die, I'm this close to ending up alone and friendless, hiding forever from elven assassins in some filthy dungeon… And Hadvar's angry at me because I didn't go join him at Solitude, but how was I going to do that?" Hiccups started "My hands are full of conspiracies and curses and Akaviri prophecies, I can't just join a side in open warfare! Even my best friend is scared of travelling with me."

Proper rivers came down my cheeks. "I know you guys make a big deal about a glorious death and Sovngarde, but I'm sorry, I don't want to go there, I want to live! And I don't want to live in some dark prison or sewer, hiding! And the only person who was there to guide me about all of this, well, he died, so I have no one."

Suddenly, I was on the floor, crying my eyes out. Must have been a pathetic sight, a scared little harlot complaining of shadows, whining next to a forge. If all shame must be lost, then so be it.

Alvor kneeled next to me.

"I have no one." I whispered in between sobs.

"Hush, hush. You have us. It's going to be fine. I promise." He handed me a rather filthy rag to wipe my face, and hugged me in a protective, delicate, somehow non-sexual way. The way you hug a daughter, I suppose. How would I know?

"Now, I'm not sure I can help you with these Akaviri and Thalmor things, but I can promise it will be fine. You'll always have Sigrid and me. And Hadvar, of course. He'll come around, trust me, I've known the lad all his life. He's used to strict plans and to play it safe, but he'll get over it. He knows it already, you know? That letter he sent with your friend, telling us you'd been injured, he wanted me to promise we'd hide you if needed. And we will."

Clearly, he was trying to accommodate what little information he had into the most reassuring words. Also, a letter through my friend? Could only be Athis. "So it'll be fine. By the time you're done with the dragons, he'll still be up there soldiering, and everything will be fine. We're very proud of you, Sira, we won't let you end up in a sewer."

"When you write back to him, will you please tell him I'm not sweet? He must forget about it." I asked

"I will not. I know you're not sweet. Between you and me, if you were a sweet girl, I'd have sent you away after the first night. He doesn't need sweet. He knows you're not, trust me. It just pleases him to think you are. Let him. We all need something to keep us going, in these grim times."

Back at the inn, some rest and a greasy stew finished restoring all the inner injuries that Alvor didn't erase with his disinterested gestures. Six months ago, I would've stayed well away from people like that, as selflessness is too unpredictable and near-impossible to manipulate. Now, I would've placed my life in his hands.

Alas, there was now another expedition to arrange, this time into the Reach. While waiting for Esbern and Delphine to come out, Vilkas and I shared an incredibly tense meal – all the complicity of the past few days was seemingly shattered during that little shouting match.

My turn to apologise, I guess. I placed my hand on top of his.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. It was immature of me, especially in front of a stranger. I won't do it again."

Of course I will, if you provoke me, but just pretend to believe me.

"It's fine. Emotional moment for you and all. Shouldn't have yelled back." He grunted, and continued eating in silence. It will wear off.

At last, he spoke again, still hurt.

"Why didn't you ever said anything? We've been teasing you about your farmboy for months, because we thought he was just some kid you barely knew. You never mentioned you were betrothed."

I raised an eyebrow. Playing dumb didn't suit him.

"That's because we aren't. And I do know him very little – what are you getting at?"

"Going to his uncle for fatherly advice speaks of a longer acquaintance. The whole conversation, in general, implied stronger feelings than just the strangers who supposedly took you in after Helgen."

Ugh, I hate it that Smart Twin is so smart.

"Right. Is that why you look like I took your sweet roll away? Did I break your black, wolfish heart by making it look like I was available?"

A sarcastic question if there ever was one – and yet he blushed.

"Because I am available, after all. Single and free to mingle. His family, though… I have nobody else in the province, remember?"

"Right, I heard you before. Except you have us: we are your siblings, your sword and shield."

Shit, when he wants to, his voice could evoke peaches and cream.

"Will you sacrifice your war paint for the sake of emphasis?"

Our laughter came out loud, unapologetic, and synchronised.