"So have you thought of your next step?" Kodlak asked. We were having breakfast on his studio, a week after the dragon attack.

"Not quite. I've thought of like a dozen steps, really, but I have no idea which one should be next."

"Don't you think it should be heading for High Hrothgar?"

"Well, yes, that's definitely coming soon. Apparently it's a great honour and I shouldn't keep them waiting, but I just don't feel ready for it yet."

"Would you like a Shield-Sibling to accompany you?"

"No, it's not that. I know the 7000 steps are dangerous and all, but I wouldn't want to inconvenience them if they're busy doing paid jobs. Either way, I have Lydia now, I suppose she could come with me. That's not what worries me."

"Then what else do you need to be ready? You need to speak to the Greybeards if you want any hope to confirm whether you are Dragonborn – and only from that, you can decide what to do next."

"I know! And that's why I have all these ideas on my head, of skills to train and improve, but I don't really know what will be asked for me… but I can't just show up at a monastery like this. Not when I still can't control myself!"

"Ah, there it is. Do you still feel the dragon inside, bothering you?"

"All the time. It wants to fly, it wants to roar, it wants to set the world on fire. I'm constantly biting my own tongue so I don't let it speak for me." He raised an eyebrow at that. "Earlier today, Ria and Torvar were arguing about something – axes versus hammers, I think. Ria tried to ask my opinion over it, and I had to choke myself with some bread to avoid telling her the dragon does not care about the weapons of sheep, or something equally uncalled for."

"So it gives you a short temper, then."

"Yes, partly, all the time – but then there are times in which I can feel it is literally trying to speak through me. It's in there, inside me, surrounded by me, but it wants out."

"Interesting. I also saw you resumed your sprints around the city?"

"I did, this morning. I'll never be able to outrun a real dragon, but I'll be able to do a decent charge soon."

"And the guards like to watch you and cheer at you."

I giggled at the thought. "Yes, there is that. I won't lie, I don't hate the attention. I grew up trading by the docks, I never thought I'd find myself Thane of anything. It's vain, I know, but there are worse things to be proud of."

"Are you really vain, child? Or is the dragon just fiercely proud?"

"There's at least A DOZEN things the dragon is, all right? How would you know anyway?" I blushed, since I noticed I had raised my voice again. "I'm sorry. That was out of turn. I've always been vain, and I never liked slights, I guess. Aela says I should take slights as a challenge."

"Interesting way to put it. So you've been asking her for advice as well?" I felt slight disappointment in his voice, but why?

"Well, we talked a lot the other night – that of the attack. She has an interesting outlook on things." I stopped to stare at him. "Farkas said you've always been here to counsel him, as if he were your own son."

"That was kind of him to say." There! That glimpse to his eyes. This is how he looks when he's flattered. I made my best effort to memorize that expression as I nibbled on another slice of eidar cheese.

"He is a kind man, in general."

"That he is. He is often slighted as well."

"I know, for being stupid. I can see why – too many people seem to think book-smarts is the only valid way of being smart."

"Everyone here has different talents and carries different burdens. Yours may be a bit more monstrous, but always keep in mind you're not alone. You can learn a lot from everyone here, even from the ones who don't look like they want to teach you anything."

I quickly caught the reference. A lither version of his twin, Vilkas had the same elegance of movement than Hadvar, but none of the gentleness. He was known to be a great reader and an immensely clever man, but he scowled twice every time Farkas chuckled and was quick to outbursts of rage – at least whenever I was present.

"If you mean Vilkas, I don't think it's a matter of looks. Some people are just not meant to get along." I'd been in Jorrvaskr less than two weeks total, and we'd already clashed over sitting space by the library twice. He'd also been heard mocking my sprints and jump as "a foolish way to reach Thanehood", to which I'd replied that it was still proving much better than his method of wanking, scowling, and acting as if his shit didn't stink. That was followed by an overly brutal session of two-handed weapon training, which, if it hadn't involved wooden greatswords, would've left him sterile and me dead.

"Remember what you told me about using a frostbite spell against that dragon?"

"That it made no sense to fight fire with fire?"

"Exactly. You fight fire with ice, but what if you'd wanted to ally yourself with the fire? Would you have shot ice at it then?"

"Is this supposed to be a riddle? Because I know Companions are not supposed to use magic."

"It is no riddle. Merely an old man's ramblings. Either way, it's probably time to go back to train. I have to negotiate a contract with an… important family, who has lost an heirloom in Valtheim Towers. It's halfway to Ivarstead, so I was thinking you and a Shield Sibling could take care of that, and then continue onto High Hrothgar."

"Ah, I see. You're sending me with Vilkas to see the Greybeards. Right. With all due respect, sir, I'm an Imperial. We invented diplomacy and insinuation."

"And you made a great service to leaders and politicians everywhere. I'll see you soon, Sira."