Small Consolation
The twins followed Laurelin into High Hrothgar and immediately felt the hushed presence that still awed them, even after numerous visits with the Dragonborn. They had often taken refuge in the halls for days while she had climbed higher still to commune with Paarthurnax and deepen her understanding of her Thu'um. While they were waiting for her to come back down, they would find themselves sitting and talking with the Greybeards, as much as they could wring out of the tight-lipped monks.
One day Vilkas had suggested it might be wise for him to learn more of the language of the dovah, so he could more easily assist Laurelin. Once again, Arngeir had hesitated, but Einarth took Vilkas aside and had a whispered conversation that rattled the warrior's teeth.
"You wish to aid your love by learning more of the Way of the Voice. This is good; I will teach you what I am able during your short stays with us."
"Thank you, Master. But why take time from your meditations to teach me when Master Arngeir seems so against it?"
"She will need someone to remind her," Einarth thundered softly.
"Please pardon all of these questions of mine but, how do you mean remind her?"
"Who she is."
"I'm afraid I still don't quite understand," said Vilkas, shaking his head slowly.
"You will, I am sure. Follow me; we will begin with a simple meditation and devotion." Einarth turned and led Vilkas away, deeper into the monastery. So began his own education in the way of the Voice.
Now, after many months and trials, they still felt somewhat ill at ease, but less so than before; and Vilkas had formed a certain fondness for the sometimes touchy old men. As always, the three of them had carried up heavy packs with extra provisions, though they hardy seemed needed. The kitchen was better stocked than ever before.
"Looks like more pilgrims are coming up the mountain now and leaving offerings for the monks," observed Farkas as they put away the goods they had brought.
"Aye, no doubt due to a renewed interest in the Way, thanks to our lovely Dragonborn here," Vilkas said quietly. He was still troubled by the revelation she had given him on the way up the mountain. He had spent the entire balance of the journey warring within himself, both elated that she was willing to start planning a future with him, and terrified and furious about her secrets.
Laure, for her part, had so much going on in her head that she barely seemed aware half the time, quietly climbing the steps without even so much as a whistle or random bawdy jest. She said nothing as they unloaded their extra goods, simply nodding in distracted agreement when required.
Farkas looked from his twin to the woman he adored and shook his head. He knew they had quarreled on the way up, but claimed to have worked out as best they could whatever the issue was. Neither one would tell him, which frustrated him because there was clearly more that needed to be resolved. The hesitancy he saw in both their eyes, apprehension over something he didn't understand, spoke volumes. He shook his head again and rounded them up in a massive embrace.
"Look, I don't know what is really going on here, and from what little I do, I probably don't want to. But this is killing me, watching you two right now. It's like watching you stand there building a fucking wall between yourselves, and I don't like it. What happened?"
"Obligations, dear one. I have so many, and I'm sorry but I have so much on my plate right now. That is a pathetic excuse, I know. Your brother and I still love each other very much; have no fear from that corner. But he knows a few things about me now that upset him deeply, and now, we are trying to sort out what those things mean. That is all I can tell you at the moment. She sighed then added, "You deserve a better answer from me, yet I have none that I can give you."
Vilkas scowled and looked from Laurelin to his brother, then down, but nodded his head in agreement.
Farkas gazed seriously at the both of them and crushed them to his chest in a bone-crushing hug. "You two have something together; don't let anything—and I mean anything—come between you."
"We aren't, brother, let me go," grumbled Vilkas, as he tried to pry his twin's massive arm from around him. Farkas finally relented and released the lovers.
They heard the massive doors leading to the rear courtyard open and shut and knew the Greybeards must be coming in for the evening. They began preparing supper for themselves and the monks, knowing as they did that tomorrow could change everything, and they were determined to have at least one more hot meal before ascending the rest of the way to read the Elder Scroll that Laure refused to let out of her sight.
Laure and Vilkas each made an effort to set aside their mental burdens and enjoy the meal and company for the rest of the evening; and they took solace in holding each other tightly throughout the long, sleepless night, fingers entwined in their customary place over his heart.
"Shit," Farkas cursed into the scarf wrapped around his face and dug his feet hard into the snowy path, using one hand to steady himself as he slipped backward a pace. A few feet ahead, Vilkas paused and turned to make sure his brother was still behind him. Farkas nodded and waved his free hand. "I'm fine, just lost my footing for a second. Get moving before I pass your scrawny ass."
Vilkas snorted and began scrambling back up the steep slope, eyes scanning for his mate in the dim light. The predawn gloom was lightening swiftly, and up ahead, he caught a glimpse of her scampering lightly across the last slope before the top. The twins both labored to catch up in their heavy armor, slipping often in the deep snow.
The creak of massive wings came to their ears as they finally scrambled up to where Laurelin stood, pivoting to watch the massive dragon circle in for a landing on a nearby outcropping of rock. He settled with a thud, his gray and white scales dark against the pearl and pink sky behind him. He shook his spiked head; then his deep voice rumbled out, "You have it. The Kel—the Elder Scroll. Tiid kreh . . . qalos. Time shudders at its touch. There is no question. You are doom-driven. Kogaan Akatosh. The very bones of the earth are at your disposal. Go, then. Fulfill your destiny. Take the Scroll to the Time-Wound. Do not delay. Alduin will be coming. He cannot miss the signs."
"Paarthurnax, how do I use the Scroll to learn Dragonrend, though? Will it show me, or must I somehow direct it?" asked Laure. "What if I don't understand what I see?" What if it renders me blind or insane? Don't forget, Alduin's on his way as well.
"You will see many things if you try to direct it, to control it, but the Scroll is tuned to the Time-Wound. Read it and learn what you must, swiftly! My brother will not ignore a challenge such as this for long."
Scarcely reassured, Laurelin jogged the few paces to the Tiid Ahraan, that place of slowly swirling snow in the gale that raged about them. Snowflakes flew in and slowed, pulled up and sideways, back down in a strange dance, while even light seemed to behave in a peculiar way, flowing and shifting in scintillating counterpoint to the flakes, forever out of sync with the rest of the world. Now with the Elder Scroll in her hands, the Time wound wrapped around her, the humming energy she had felt before intensified to such a point her skin seemed to crawl.
She stood there a moment, head bowed, the shining white scroll case casting its own light up onto her haunted features. Her dragonscale and bone gauntlet covered thumb stroked one of the blue gems set into the case reverently, reluctantly. She felt two reassuring presences move up behind her, flanking her protectively, as always.
"You okay, Laure?" asked Farkas with concern.
"I'm fine." For now she thought inwardly. "Just a little nervous."
"We are right here if you need us, love." Vilkas' heavy hand rested on the small of her back, and he gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "You will be fine; now read, before Alduin arrives."
Laure glanced over to where Paarthurnax was perched, the light of dawn making the battered dovah beautiful with its rosy hues. He dipped his head to her once, and with a huge, deep breath, Laure steeled herself to open the Elder Scroll. "I wouldn't look at it at all," she said, finally exhaling. As soon as the twins had turned away, she opened the case with shaking fingers and gazed full on into the infinite.
Blinding piercing light! So sharp it was not stopped by shutting the eyes. No, this was the light of all the truths in the cosmos, banishing lies and deception, revealing each possibility, and no mere flesh would stand in the way of those painful, beautiful truths. So many, so much, the mind reeled and stumbled to pick up even shreds of understanding. This is all. All creation and destruction, knowledge, histories and myths. All of time, every past, every single future.
Laurelin felt her knees buckle, but she somehow forced herself to stand again as her vision began to clear. What returned was a scarlet-tinged image, as if seen through an old glass window, distorted, unclear, but becoming stronger. In the margins of her vision, strange glyphs, writings she could almost make out, charts that might have been star maps, snippets of random things that she could glean no meaning from seemed to flow past her, through her awareness. She stared transfixed at the scene that followed, horrified, fascinated, utterly unaware of the world around her, nor the men at her side.
Vilkas and Farkas felt her stagger as soon as she opened the scroll. If they hadn't felt her get back to her feet, they would have risked their sight and sanity to help her, but she was able to regain her feet and keep them, though she swayed slowly to and fro, muttering, occasionally whimpering softly, as if in a dream. Vilkas kept his back to the scroll but laid a hand on her shoulder, to let her know he was there, and Farkas did the same on the other side.
Neither could say how long she read that terrible scroll, but it didn't seem long before Paarthurnax called out a warning, "Alduin approaches, prepare yourselves. He will not be content with mere tinvaak. Rok fen ald hi waan hi fen ni qiilaan wah mok. He will destroy you if you will not bow to him."
The twins stepped a few paces away from Laure and drew their bows, loosely notched arrows and waited as calmly as they could for the World-Eater to arrive. Already, the sound of his approach reached them. Thundering screams and Shouts shook the air, growing louder by the moment.
"Don't mean to rush you or anything, Laure, but read faster!" muttered Farkas as he paced with his brother around the Time-Wound.
"Zu'u lost nii. Dragonrend. I have it!" She gasped behind them suddenly, and then collapsed forward, face down in the snow. Vilkas leaped to her side and rolled her over, ear to her open mouth, heard her breathing slowly, shallowly.
The mountaintop shook and loose snow cascaded down off the slopes, and Vilkas looked up to see Alduin hovering in the air a few yards away, blazing red eyes staring furiously at the mer in his arms. He pulled her limp form closer to his chest and gazed defiantly back at the World-Eater, prepared to take him on by himself if needed. Anything to protect her.
Farkas moved right up behind his brother and shield sister, bow fully drawn and ready to release his ebony tipped shaft as soon as Alduin made a move. Though desperately worried for Laurelin, he kept his hard, silver gaze riveted to the dragon ahead.
Laure moaned and twisted in Vilkas' arms, crying out a stream of gibberish mixed with the dragon tongue, laughed hysterically with her eyes squeezed shut, then sobbed. Vilkas stroked her cheek and nose, all he could reach with the rest of her encased in spiked armor, whispered to her while keeping an eye on Alduin, who seemed content to let the terror of his presence fully soak in.
A moment later her glacial blue eyes fluttered open, and with relief, she looked up at Vilkas' concerned, handsome face. Thanks the gods, I can still see! She thought. It took her a moment to notice Farkas standing behind them, bowstring pulled to his cheek while he glared at something to her left. She glanced about dizzily and saw the massive black dragon, hovering just out of sword reach.
Alduin chuckled evilly and rumbled, "Bahloki nahkip sillesejoor. My belly is full of the souls of your fellow mortals, Dovahkiin. Die now and await your fate in Sovngarde!" His great wings beat more strongly, and he began climbing higher in the sky. Farkas' first shot buried itself in a hind leg, which did nothing more than make Alduin chuckle, which spurred Laurelin and Vilkas up out of the snow.
Paarthurnax called out, "Lost funt. You are too late, Alduin! Dovahkiin! Use Dragonrend, if you know it!" and launched himself skyward, Shouting a torrent of fire at Alduin as he flew by.
"You have it? You truly have Dragonrend?" shouted Vilkas over his shoulder to Laure, who was hastily shoving the scroll in her pack and arming herself.
"Aye, I learned it, though it is, well distasteful. Revolting actually," she called back, still abnormally pale.
"It's the only way to defeat him though, you must!"
Paarthurnax and Alduin battled across the skies, circling the mountain, Shouting at each other. Laure swallowed and cleared her throat, calling out to her mentor, "Paarthurnax, stay clear, Zu'u dreh ni hind hi wah kos vek!" The old dovah dipped a wing in acknowledgment and wheeled away. Laure took a deep breath and waited until Alduin swooped low overhead and Shouted, "Joor Zah Frul!"
A great clap of thunder and the beginning of a rain of flaming stones answered her Shout as Alduin circled the mountaintop, wreathed in an ugly blue-violet light, and came in for a heavy landing.
Paarthurnax landed just behind Alduin, unaffected by Dragonrend, and bathed him in scorching fire. Laurelin, and her two best friends churned through the snow, shields up, swords flashing as they closed from all sides. Farkas roared out a cry of, "For Ysmir, Dragon of the North!" and plunged into the fray with a fierce light in his eyes. Vilkas was right behind Farkas, already moving to flank.
Laurelin felt a grin spreading across her face, a stupid, silly grin, but she didn't try to stop it. She was being pummeled by hot stones and flame, battling the World-Eater, and she could die at any moment. All she needed to do was defeat Alduin this day. She was alive, still sane, had her eyesight, and had acquired Dragonrend. As she Shouted her own fire into Alduin's face and dodged his fangs, she laughed. There was so much more to live for than she had ever dreamed. The fear and the worry were set aside for the time; just now she had a dragon to slay, then sleep, mead, and fucking the brains out of her poor mate. Not in that particular order.
Dragonrend didn't seem to last long, and Alduin took back to the skies as soon as its effects wore off, his wide wings buffeting the much smaller Dragonborn and twins. He roared out, "Sojuur! Weaklings, I have feasted on many greater than you."
Shields overhead, the Companions conferred a moment, checking for wounds and weaknesses in their armor. Laure looked at the swirling storm clouds that still spewed fiery rocks and seemed to never run out, and trusted her instinct. She cried out, "Lok Vah Koor!" and the fiery hail storm finally abated.
Laurelin quickly noticed that Alduin seemed impervious to any of their attacks, unless he was grounded with Dragonrend. And he didn't seem too inclined to make a convenient target of himself for it, so Laure and the twins had a harrowing time avoiding death as the battle raged over the narrow plateau. With little cover, sheer drops on all sides, fierce gusts of wind and dragon fire raising drifts of steam, they were exposed and terribly vulnerable to attacks from above, which was of course, the direction Alduin seemed to prefer coming from.
Paarthurnax and Alduin clashed overhead briefly, and as soon as they separated, Laure adjusted her shield and thundered, "Joor Zah Frul!" once more, hoping to catch him as he flapped by. The dark energy coiled around the World-Eater again, and he screamed in fury as he felt his strength leave him, no longer sufficient to keep him aloft.
With another crash that shed more snow from the peaks, he landed in the midst of the fighters and lashed around with his long, mace-like tail. He stomped about, hoping to crush one of them, but the vermin were quick, and experienced dragon slayers. They hacked away at him, with crude blades and powerless oaths, fanning his rage. How dare they defy me? I will taste your blood and sorrow! "My teeth to your neck, Dovahkiin! Long will your soul serve me when I devour you!" His fanged maw descended on her, but she danced under him and out of reach; and as soon as his attention was on any one of them, the other two leaped in to cleave away with their wretched, enchanted weapons.
Soon enough the cloying tendrils of her Shout dissipated, and Alduin launched himself up and out of their range, away from the agony and outrage of their blades. His brother strafed overhead and poured fire out of his open maw, then curled out of range of a return Shout.
The Dragonborn and her two companions began firing arrow after arrow up at him as he circled the mountainside, thinking, evaluating. Several of their barbs reached him and dug painfully into soft joints and his throat, but did no lasting damage. She was strong, more powerful than he anticipated. Her Voice had grown mighty, stronger than he would have given her credit for. Curses. He desperately wanted to fly over and snap her up and crunch her bones to a bloody pulp, but with that terrible Dragonrend he didn't dare risk her grounding him like that again. Niid, your hunting ground awaits, go there and regain your strength, then destroy her. Now you have her measure. He hovered over the slope of the Throat of the World and taunted her, while keeping an eye on his traitorous brother. Dii zeymah, he thought with bitterness.
"Meyz mul, Dovahkiin. You have become strong. But I am Alduin, Firstborn of Akatosh! Mulaagi zok lot! I cannot be slain here, by you or anyone else! You cannot prevail against me. I will outlast you . . . mortal!" And with that, he dove down and bathed the hilltop with one last torrent of flames, and streaked away.
Laurelin gaped after Alduin, then ran to the edge of the plateau, furious. "Alduin! I name you coward! I denounce you before Father Akatosh as a lowly worm! Nikriin! Zu'u fen nir hi wah oblaan do Ul waan Zu'u kend! Nikriin!" This last nearly screamed at the top of her thundering voice, laden with the power of her Thu'um.
Alduin never looked back, though he could not have missed her fantastically loud challenge and proclamation. The skies themselves shook with her fury, and the sound of her repeatedly calling Alduin a coward rocked the nearby holds, far below.
"Zu'u fen nir hi, Alduin! I will hunt you, and destroy you!" Her voice seemed to crack the skies open and thunder pealed heavily, rolling across the land, pushing her threat, her promise, to every corner of the realm.
Vilkas cautiously stepped up behind his love, and in a low voice said, "I think he is gone for now, Laurelin." She ignored him, staring intently in the direction Alduin had flown, as if by sheer will he would return to face her. "Laurelin, listen, it's over for now, come down from there. Please, Laurelin."
She seemed deaf to his pleas, her chest heaving, eyes so bright with fury and frustration, he found himself glad he never had such a burning stare leveled at him. Not from her, at least. Not yet. She stood there, at the edge of the precipice, hands curled into tight fists, leaning forward as if she meant to sprout wings and pursue the fleeing dragon. He felt helpless in the face of such fury, ill accustomed to how she was not responding to him at all, and he was afraid she would harm herself with her inattention to her surroundings. It took Farkas edging up close to finally snap her out of it.
"So that was Alduin, huh. Just another big nasty dragon. Don't see what the fuss is all about. Maybe the burning rocks part is pretty bad, but he bleeds like any of the others do."
Laure scoffed into the wind at that, and turned her burning gaze to her shield-brother. "No fuss at all, aye?" she said in a low, dangerous tone. Farkas' eyes widened and he took a tiny, involuntary step back. With an effort, she shook off the haze of battle rage and glanced ruefully from brother to brother. "Aye, he bleeds like all the others." With that, she turned and bounded across the flat area to where Paarthurnax was settling heavily to the ground in front of the word wall.
"Los hi eyvir, Mindopah? Are you well, Teacher?" she asked the ancient dragon as he arranged his wings about him.
"Geh, I am well, mighty Rek-ah. Nothing time will not mend." He bumped his head forward, and Laurelin felt her hand drifting out to caress the pebbled hide between the horns on his head. "You did well, Dovahkiin, yet your task is not complete. He has flown to his fortress, where his most devout Dragon Priests will no doubt lurk."
"Where is his gateway to Sovngarde?" she asked, still stroking his forehead, grief tinting her now calm tone.
"If I knew, I would tell you, Dovahkiin. Alduin no longer holds me in his council, but one of his minions would surely know. Consider how you might trap one of his followers. Dragonsreach once housed a clever trap for the dovah. Perhaps you might use such a device to capture and question one of his many servants." With a puff of hot air, Paarthurnax slowly lifted himself off the ground and spiraled down to his customary perch on the word wall.
Laure rubbed her dry eyes, suddenly overwhelmingly tired. The exhilaration she had felt earlier while fighting Alduin disappeared. She felt utterly drained, swaying unsteadily on her feet. She had seen too much. I read too long from the Kel. This was never going to end. Find this, fetch that, save these peasants, mind the crops, don't damage the sacred blah-de-blah. Not to mention capture and interrogate the live fucking dragon for the whereabouts of a portal to the afterlife. The absolute absurdity of it all came crashing down on her. Why would there ever be any rest, or peace? Just as she felt a hysterical scream of laughter bubbling up from deep inside, a warm hand slid into hers, and another pair helped steady her shoulders. His voice, clearing away the apprehension and guessing, with just his voice. The way her name rolled off his perfectly shaped lips, the way he never, ever shortened it.
"Laurelin."
"Yes love?" she asked after a tiny sigh of relief. Somehow his voice could drain the tension away. She couldn't explain the reasons; it just did, and she didn't want to question that gift right now.
"Tell me what we can do to help. Just talk to us and tell us you are unharmed."
Unharmed. That is a jest. Oh, beloved. For his sake she smiled, in spite of the weariness. "I am well; I guess I owe some funding to the Arch-Mage." She leaned into the brothers for their warmth and comfort, until chills overtook her cooling muscles and she began to shiver uncontrollably. Farkas set up their tent as quickly as possible in the protective curve of Paarthurnax's wall, and the twins bundled her up in the furs of their bedrolls inside the thick walls. Paarthurnax guessed her need for warmth and occasionally craned his long neck around to breath fire on the backside of the stone wall, letting the heat radiate slowly out to warm the air around the small shelter.
The twins pulled her out of her sweaty armor and kept her warm through the rest of the day and night, able to do little more than keep her safe from the elements while she slept, fever raging through her exhausted body. Rest was the only remedy for her ailments, her injuries from the battle being negligible.
Paarthurnax patrolled the skies periodically, his vast wings making little sound as he floated aloft in the thin, cold air, but his sharp gaze wandered far and wide, seeking out threats to the Dovahkiin while she recovered her strength supported by her zeymah and liin-mate of her choosing.
Vilkas struggled out of the little tent and stretched once he gained his feet. Laurelin still slept, but more restfully now; her fever had finally broken in the wee hours of the night. Farkas was curled up with her to keep her warm and calm. Vilkas didn't begrudge his brother the rest. His own thoughts were so chaotic and heavy, he would never be able to rest, even without the Blood. He had curled up with her for hours, but sleep eluded him. Thinking to put together something hot to eat and drink, he trudged around the mountaintop, looking for anything to burn, but came up empty handed. No tree nor shrub grew in this bitter cold, harsh terrain.
He was understandably reluctant to ask the dragon still hovering nearby to lower himself to heating water, but he could not get to the lower elevations and back up without Laurelin and her Clear Skies Shout. He paced in frustrated agitation around the camp, restless, hungry, still concerned for his mate.
Paarthurnax landed with a thump on the word wall and lowered his scarred head. "Fos arokon hi, Koriid? What troubles you, Companion?"
Vilkas ran his hands through his hair in distraction. "I want to build a fire, to cook something warm for her to eat when she wakes, but there is nothing to burn up here, and I am trapped here until she does wake up. I need wood, but there isn't so much as a splinter."
"Hmmm," Paarthurnax rumbled thoughtfully. "I could find some wood and bring it back."
"Ah, why thank you, truly. Your help would be most appreciated," Vilkas said in astonishment. Paarthurnax took off without another word and drifted away. Vilkas gaped after the ancient dovah, then forced himself to pay attention. Dawn was approaching again, and she had slept for nearly an entire day already. She was going to be ravenous, so he pulled out their tiny camp cooking pot and filled it with water, set that aside and sliced cheese and meats. Soon, the slow beat of wings broke the hush before dawn.
Paarthurnax came into view, something dangling awkwardly from his claws. He hovered overhead a moment then gently dropped a ruined farm cart nearby, before settling down himself with a satisfied huff. Vilkas found himself gaping again, and hastily closed his mouth.
"Please tell me you didn't ambush a farm . . ."
"Niid, no. I found this down below. The caravan this belonged to had already been destroyed. All were dead before I arrived. The horse was delicious though, still fresh. Well worth the journey."
Vilkas swallowed nervously, but nodded his thanks to the great dragon and went to see about loosening the planks of the wagon. Plenty to burn there. He drew up before the mess and was able to pry a few pieces off before the rest proved more than he could manage with his bare hands. With no axe handy, he was going to need to use his sword.
Paarthurnax cleared his throat once and gestured with his head for Vilkas to move. When the Nord was clear, the dragon spun about and raised his tail high, before smashing it through the wood of the cart, spraying smaller bits to the side as the whole thing shattered. Vilkas covered his smile with one hand, the other held out in front to ward off any stray fragments, watching as a wheel tumbled by, to plunge over the side. He had to imagine it would stay there until some intrepid adventurer chanced upon it, and the confusion a wagon wheel might stir, here above all roads.
"Again, my thanks. If there is any way we can repay you, you need but say the word. The Companions owe you a debt of honor."
"There is no need for repayment. Having another soul up here on my mountain to have tinvaak, conversation, with is reward enough. Witnessing with my own eyes your Dragonborn pronouncing Alduin's cowardice to the realm, that pays for everything many times over." He chuckled his deep, grating amusement.
"That was indeed a sight. I have never seen her so furious. We didn't expect to fight him here, so soon. I think she was hoping to finish it once and for all when he arrived. If she had wings, I don't think anything would have stopped her pursuing him." Vilkas bent over and began piling wood into his arms as he talked, not forgetting that he wanted something hot to eat, needing to distance himself from the wise, too shrewd gaze of his mate's mentor.
"There is truth in what you say. Her blood and instincts as a hunter demanded she chase after prey that was fleeing. Her dragon soul rose to the challenge and was ready to destroy her foes. Alduin and his priests have had a rude awakening. They will be more wary next time."
Vilkas nodded and began piling the wood up in a neat stack, thinking. Over time, he had been able to deepen his appreciation for her skills and abilities, learning some of the dragon language and histories from the Greybeards, while Farkas sprawled near the fireplace and read since there was little else to interest him up there in High Hrothgar.
He came to realize how powerful her urge to dominate could have been, if her own personality was weaker. Previous Dragonborns had usually conquered vast portions of Tamriel before their hungers had been sated or thwarted. For now, at least, his mate was content with being mistress of only their home. Being Harbinger of the Companions hardly counted as ruling, self governance being one of the foremost tenets of the Companions. If only they could entirely cleanse the Beast Blood from the Circle, but Aela would never join them in that. How had the Beast Blood even had any effect on his love, with her dragon soul so fierce and powerful? He wondered.
Paarthurnax startled him by dropping his head down over his shoulder and breathing a trickle of flames into the carefully arranged but unlit firewood. He then further shocked Vilkas when he said, "The werewolf blood only had any affect because she wanted it to. If she had been forced or in any way hesitant about taking the Blood, it never would have worked, not for one second, because her soul, the Dovahkiin within her, would not have allowed it. Even if forced against her will, eventually her soul would have purged itself clean of the Daedra's taint."
"Say that again?" Vilkas asked, too startled to remember the courtesies he made an effort to offer to Paarthurnax. What the mighty dovah was saying had grabbed his full attention, because if what Paarthurnax was saying was correct, then perhaps . . . well, he was too overwhelmed to grasp fully what it might mean for Laurelin and himself in the future.
"The Daedra have always desired to own a Dragonborn; but every time, they discover anew that the dragon soul cannot be harnessed, nor claimed. Except by Dovahkiin, naturally. Dragons are beings of magic, and do not bow to the same laws as joore. We are not subject to the Daedra. We touch down in the streams of time, and are set free for a while, then return again. Our souls are as eternal as time itself. It is why the Kel had so little affect on her. We are not bound to time. We are Vozahlaas, Immortal. While not able to fully understand the way we do, she is able to glimpse both forward and back, with the aid of the scroll. Eventually she will be able to do more, but for now be glad that she is who she is."
Vilkas frowned, as this echoed what Einarth had said. "I should be glad she does not crave power for itself, aye?"
"Geh, ges. Correct. We should all be zonox, grateful she is not of a more, hmmm, conquering nature. Her heart and mind are those of a mer, but her sil, her soul, the energy of her being, the power coiled in that fragile shell she wears—she has the soul, the determination of the dov. She could re-write everything, if she so chose. Man and mer, beast-folk and beast would all bend before the might of her Thu'um, or be broken."
Vilkas couldn't help but notice the almost admiration—for lack of a better word-that seemed to resonate in the dragon's deep voice when he spoke of Laurelin's potential.
"Master Einarth mentioned needing to remind her of who she is. Do you also think she will need to be reminded that she is still mer, a woman?"
"That depends greatly on how much you would like to see this war end and have Tamriel united under her rule. As Dragonborn, she could easily upset the rule of the current dynasty. Under her, the Aldmeri Dominion could be ground to dust, and all her subjects would rejoice and sing her praises, or remain silent, out of fear. Would you see her as Empress of Tamriel?"
"She would hate that, and me forever for doing that to her," Vilkas replied without hesitation. He would never suggest such a thing to her. She had already stretched herself nearly to the breaking point several times over the past year in preparation for her encounter with Alduin—not to mention her inability to tell those in need, "No." She's such a bleeding heart sometimes, if anyone suggested she should even try to destroy the Dominion, she would feel obligated to do it, or die trying. Fuck. This gets better and better.
Vilkas suddenly remembered something Alduin had said to Laurelin. "Alduin, he has been in Sovngarde, feasting on the souls of the dead all this time! That is where he is now, gorging himself on our heroes!" Vilkas felt his heart pumping violently, rapidly in his chest and his gorge rose. Suddenly he wasn't hungry at all, the thought of feasting while Alduin made sport of the honored dead . . . his vision began to go gray for a moment as he realized what that could mean. He sank to one knee, knuckles buried in the powdery snow, and breathed shallowly a moment until his heart slowed.
"He's going to wait there for her, getting fat on my ancestors! He will use them against her and then come back here for more substantial fare!" His knuckles punched ineffectually into the snow. Suddenly he realized how much he needed his love to be more than just a mer. Dovahkiin, he thought bitterly. In his mind, a voice that reminded him of Kodlak chided, No one ever said it would be easy.
He made himself get up to finish preparing breakfast for his brother and mate. No sense in flailing around in the snow when the water was boiling and a giant dragon had gone to such effort to bring firewood up. He snorted and grimaced, shredding dried fish and mudcrab into the pot, seasoning and tasting. Not spectacular, but he figured the broth would be easy to stomach at first.
She stuck her head out a while later, hair tangled and pushed out of shape, face streaked with soot, blood, and sweat. "Gods, I stink. Is there enough water for a bath?"
Vilkas shook his head regretfully, but Laure just shrugged and squirmed out, naked as the day she was born, body just as filthy as her face and neck. She minced through the snow to a reasonably thick drift and threw herself in, writhing about. She scrubbed ruthlessly until her skin was pink and raw, relatively clean looking. She ducked behind a boulder to relieve herself, then dashed back to the tent and burrowed in.
Farkas' hoarse shout of outrage echoed around the mountain, and he burst out of the tent. "Not funny Laure! Shit! What did I ever do to you?"
"Do we start with the neck biting?" she called from the tent, and she backed out a moment later, dressed. She seemed more or less back to herself, which was an enormous relief to the twins.
"Yeah, never mind. You hungry? Looks like Vilkas has something about ready."
"Gods, yes! I could eat a horse!" she said, meaning it. A nice giant haunch of something fresh-
"Fresh out of horse, love. Would you like some broth instead?" He handed over a bowl and a chunk of cheese, which she accepted with a smile.
Broth was a good start too. "Sounds lovely. Say, Vilkas, how did that cart get up here?"
A lone figure rode down the trail on one horse, leading two more behind. The horses were all heavily loaded, armored, glossy coats dark in the moonlight. The hooded rider found a particular rock formation along the riverbank and dismounted, leading the horses under an overhang, where they promptly went back to sleep. The hood slipped back and the smiling features of a Bosmer were revealed. Sipping water, the mer waited patiently for the others. It shouldn't be long now.
One of the shadows detached itself from the surrounding darkness and slipped noiselessly forward. The horses continued to doze peacefully. If anything, they slept more deeply. The Bosmer's head jerked up and keen eyes glanced about. A slow smile crept over his face.
"You Gwilin, are a paragon of goodness," said Laurelin from the shadows. "I don't know how I was going to get through the crowd in Ivarstead, if not for you." She stepped forward and clasped his wrist fondly.
"It was a pleasure to be of any small assistance I could for a sister. Is there anything else?"
"You've already surpassed my needs at this hour. Thank you so much, my friend. I am no where near ready to face the questions of the curious masses right now, and I've little time."
"Well then, I hope to sit with you soon and hear more. Until then, safe travels, good hunting."
Laure clapped his shoulder and left him with a bag of gold, leading Roast and the mounts of the twins. They were waiting for her not far away, and they had far to journey before they reached Whiterun.
As she mounted Roast and nudged the mare into a trot, Laure thought about how she was going to break the news to Balgruuf. If Laurelin was a gambling woman—which she was- she would put money down on the jarl of Whiterun Hold being very put out by the suggestion. In a best case scenario, on a very, very good day. If only she could somehow convince one or both of the twins that he would actually be delighted.
"Good thing we bought Proudspire, love!" she called out to Vilkas when she rode up to their hiding spot a few minutes later.
"Why is that?" he asked as he took the other two mount's leads from her hand.
"Because Balgruuf is going to exile me from his hold when I ask to catch a dragon in his house!"