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: Okay, that was some shut-eye. Just kidding. Real life and real work came rolling in like a tidal wave and there was naught to do but surf it. Anyway, here are the responses to the lovely reviews left. Thank you guys for feeding the Muse!
EvoKov: Thank you! That might be the closest Alduin comes to sexytimes, at least for the next few chapters. Yes, ultimately they will get to High Hrothgar and a brother reunion/confrontation is definitely in the works. Zute: You know me, our Shadowmeres operate on the same wavelength. ;) And thanks for affirming that I can write hotness! *L* I can do bodice-rippers but I wanted something more intimate and as appropriate as possible for the rating. Pint-sized She-Bear: I can safely say that Alduin would vehemently agree with you. Duesal10: Thank you for looking at my writing as an example! I'm completely flattered. The formula for me is always to stick with what the creators have given and explore possibilities from there. So far, it seems to have worked and I hope you find it useful too. Ny'kle: Well, now that she's seen Bromjunaar, she might dream about it from time to time. In a way I just wanted to show how Alduin would be homesick, so to speak. This Skyrim is not a place he knows well at all and he would dream about the past occasionally. And now Freyja will too. Servant of Agape: Hehe, certainly an important and practical lesson we could all use. And you are totally right about the language; I am determined to stick to a T rating, simply because it is ridiculous to label the entire fic M thanks to one chapter. Truth Dawns in Fire: He is! I am replaying the game and I chose to destroy the Dark Brotherhood just to do things differently. And not having Shadowmere there makes me sad. The One Who Reads Too Much: Score one for the Daedric/Undead/Supernatural Equine team. Sarah: Why thank you! Don't worry; I intend to finish Dragonrend come what may. So sit tight and hang on. :) Julie5: Well, you've guessed that part right. Alduin will be learning a little more about relationships and what it means to care for someone other than himself. And your comment about "insert tab a into slot b" made me chuckle. But it had to be done. He may be hot but it does not make him a god in the bedroom. Chavis54: After this chapter, things will start going her way. And thank you for that resounding endorsement of hotness. :P Moondawntreader: Aw, thank you. I doubt my Legolas/Eowyn fics will ever be completed but I'm glad you came over to check Dragonrend out. And this one will be completed so, there's my penance right there. Laluzi: You know how much I like your work so I am hugely flattered. Seriously, it makes me feel a lot more confident as a writer. So thank you once again. Harmoniedusoir: Well, I have to take the blame for the Alduin/Hiddleston association. No worries, I know it isn't a criticism. I can't speak for anyone else but it's really just the looks that do it for me, especially when Tom Hiddleston plays Loki. That's the exact look I picture for Alduin. Tom Hiddleston is certainly world-destroying on another level. He'll decimate cities with his "ehehe" and sweet smile, and "Bless you" everyone to death. *L* But your comment about Alduin being his own person, for want of a better expression, is certainly high praise and I really do appreciate it so much. As for my run-on style, yes. I really do have to cut back on some of that; you are completely right about the effect I aim for. And now I am ashamed! What's a restrictive clause? But when you explain it like that, it makes sense. Last but not least, thank you for that lovely, long review. I truly enjoyed reading it and being given food for thought. Ragez: More like had his Lover's Comfort bonus ripped away from him! *L* MetaLucario: Who knows, I just might make a separate one-shot with, to paraphrase your great quote, ovary-exploding scenes. ItalianEmpress 1985: A conspiracy of dragons, all headed by nefarious Alduin. *G* However, that kind of has been happening to me. I'm wondering if Besthesda tweaked the game in one of those update patches. That aside, those lyrics are completely on the money where Alduin is concerned. And I apologise for being a tease. I just can't help it. :P PhantomX0990: Go right ahead and tell the World-Eater to shut it. That's the spirit. *G* And you reread everything?! I feel like I should give you something. ChristopherDavies: Well, Shadowmere is very special, given the background fleshed out for him in-game. Certainly a lot of wisdom and practicality, all the better to guide his Listener with. As for what he has seen, I will be delving more into Sithis and the Void as this progresses.
DRAGONREND
XXXVI.
I decided, as Shadowmere leaped over several scorched and rotting tree trunks that had fallen victim to the storm's wrath, that it was most certainly not going to be my day. We landed hard enough for my teeth to clip together and behind me, Alduin hissed out another curse in Dragon tongue, his breath hot against my cheek, his arms in a stranglehold around my waist. And that meant, naturally, that I was unable to erase the awareness of his lean form plastered against mine as Shadowmere tried his best to make both our lives a living nightmare by tearing through the forest at breakneck speed and leaping over every obstacle in our path, instead of running around it. 'I suppose,' I thought as I hung on grimly, the reins wrapped tight around my hands, body bent low in the saddle for better balance, 'even undead equine assassins need a way to let off some steam.' Although it would have been vastly preferable if Shadowmere could have done it without both of us on his back.
The ride had started off badly enough. When Alduin had finally emerged from the hut, smouldering with bruised pride and anger that I suspected was mostly due to Shadowmere's timely interruption, Shadowmere had chomped his jaws at him in a manner that could only be described as vicious. Alduin would have drawn the Nightingale blade, except that I clamped my hand over his and gave Shadowmere a bloodcurdling glare that the Night Mother herself would have been proud of. Then, there had been the small matter of persuading my most faithful companion that I was not going anywhere without Alduin. And that meant that either both of us were getting in the saddle, or all three of us would be taking a walk. For a moment, I knew Shadowmere was seriously contemplating the latter option. In the end though, good sense and an assassin's professional pride won out, and he grudgingly allowed us up on his back. But not before doing a little sidestepping that ended with Alduin tumbling onto the grass as he attempted to gain the saddle. I had practically thrown myself onto him to stop him from carving his initials into Shadowmere's black hide.
And now here we were, possibly the unhappiest travelling trio in Tamriel. Thankfully, Riverwood was roughly about two miles from Anise's cabin and given the speed with which we were going, it wouldn't be that long a ride. Possibly every bone in my body would be aching with a renewed vengeance, but it wouldn't be long now. It was a good thought, and I clung onto it even as Shadowmere gave a whicker that sounded uncannily like a darkly delighted laugh and proceeded to gallop in the direction of several trees with particularly low-hanging branches. Behind me, Alduin growled something about Void-spawned creatures of dubious legitimacy. I simply ducked my head and held my tongue. There were time when one, whether Dragonborn or a god of destruction, had to accept that one had been beaten. All that was left was to endure.
... ... ...
Perhaps more than good sense and professional pride had played a part in Shadowmere's willingness to carry Alduin. Under the clear blue skies the smoke from Riverwood's houses rose, small whiffs of grey that soon faded. But even from this height and across the river, I couldn't see anybody. It was utterly silent when there ought to have been the usual sounds of Dorthe and Frodnar's laughter and Stump's incessant barking, the sound of ringing steel and the hiss of hot metal in water as Alvor worked the forge. Even the mill lay neglected, the remnants of a trunk and a woodpile attested to that.
"Where are the guards?" Alduin asked abruptly as Shadowmere slowed to a swift walk when we began a particularly steep descent. "Bloody Void and damnation, not the river again."
He had taken the question right out of my mouth. Usually there were at least three or so patrolling the village; they were all that was left of the initial force that Balgruuf had sent out when Alduin had first been seen flying within the vicinity. That memory was startling and for a moment, I could see black wings blazing down at me from above. Then Alduin shifted in the saddle and the ghost of that remembrance vanished, leaving me with a shiver that raised the hairs at the back of my neck, and almost painful goosebumps on my leather-clad skin. It had been so long since I had seen him as he truly was...
"And so much for being subtle and unseen, and coming to this place under the cover of night."
I didn't so much hear as I felt his grumbling sigh as the water came up to our knees. That was the other thing that was bothering me. The Legion soldiers would have searched the village and ought to have been waiting in the woods for us. So far, there had been nothing and no one, not a single scout. If there had been, we would have been surrounded by now. Instead, Shadowmere was left in peace to bring us across the river, water running from his sleek coat as he gained the bank and trotted steadily over the crudely boarded bridge that led to the street which ran through the middle of Riverwood.
"Still alive," I quipped as I dismounted and gave him a quick slap on the side. Crimson eyes full of wicked humour slid first to me and then Alduin. "And I won't be telling Lucian about this either." The horse tossed his head, mouth parted in what could only have been a silent laugh.
Usually Shadowmere waited at the entrance of the town for me. This time, he seemed content to stand there in the middle of the narrow street. There wasn't even a chicken around, I noticed. My wet boots left muddy prints in the dust that led to Lucan and Camilla's home; the sound of my loud knocking was almost eerie, for the door was always open during daylight hours since Lucan did make his living as a trader, after all. Now, it was locked.
"We could just kick the door in," Alduin suggested helpfully when several minutes of knocking on the firm wood yielded no response.
I ignored him. "Lucan! It's me, Freyja!"
"Or I could use the Thu'um. There are Words to open doors that will not part."
"Camilla! Open up, it's Freyja!"
"Very well, if you can bear no damage to the property..." Alduin sounded so patronisingly bored that for a moment, I pretended that the door I was pounding on was his face, "then use those lockpicks you are so good with."
"Alduin, shut u—Wait, was that a compliment?"
Then, the sound of multiple bolts being drawn back could be heard. The door slid open cautiously and Lucan's familiar face with its meticulously trimmed beard appeared from behind. "Freyja!"
"Lucan, what in the world—Why are you holding a sword?" I'd barely gotten that last part out when Alduin yanked me back from the doorway and hauled me up against his side. The look on his face was positively feral. "Drop it, drop the blade!"
Of course, when faced with six feet something of intimidating, scowling Nord that was covered from head to toe in strange metal armour, Lucan naturally refused to comply. "He's a friend!" I snapped at Alduin through gritted teeth, trying unsuccessfully to squirm out of his grasp. There were any number of things I could have done to free myself. Astrid had taught me about pressure points found just below the ears, directly under the jaw and around the neck. And since Alduin had always been stubborn when it came to not wearing his helmet... Unfortunately, he would be exceedingly furious and utterly humiliated, especially if I did it with witnesses present. So I swallowed the indignity of being manhandled in front of someone who knew me to be the Dragonborn and Thane of Whiterun. "And you," I peered over Alduin's shoulder to see Shadowmere approaching, "stay back. Aldin, unhand me... Let me go!" The last part ended in a frustrated yell that brought Camilla to the door.
"Camilla, I told you to hide in the basement!"
"Oh shush big brother, I told you there was no danger. Now why are you threatening Freyja and her...companion with a dwarven sword?" Camilla's brown eyes gleamed with interest that I was rapidly starting to dislike as she scrutinised Alduin.
"He threatened me first," Lucan said indignantly.
"Because you waved a sword at my wif—"
"Let's take this inside," I shouted, drowning out the last word because Shadowmere was still several feet away and definitely within hearing range. The last thing I needed was for Sithis' own mount to be beating down the door in a bid to make me a widow. From the way Camilla and Lucan's eyes bulged though, it was safe to say that they had seen and heard enough to put two and two together. "You wouldn't happen to have any sweet rolls or crème treats, would you?" Alduin's grip on my shoulder lessened marginally and I resisted the urge to pat myself on said shoulder. Food always worked, at least with this dragon.
"Well," Lucan's uncertain gaze swung back and forth between Alduin and myself but at last, he began lowering the sword. "We did stock up several weeks' worth of food. Desserts weren't exactly on the menu though—"
Camilla elbowed her brother out of the way. "Please, just come in. And yes, we do have all that and more, if you fancy honey nut treats..."
"Which are completely impractical given that the siege started yesterday."
For a moment, I think my heart did stop beating. "What siege?"
Lucan and Camilla exchanged looks before she replied. "Why, the siege of Whiterun. Ulfric's Stormcloaks invaded yesterday. I thought you knew."
Alduin was keenly aware that the few short months that he had spent with Freyja amounted to less than the blink of an eye when measured against the nearly infinite length of his life. Still, he felt as though he knew her well enough, even when he took into account the secrets that she kept from him. So it was quite a revelation to see his Dragonborn quite literally turn white at the news. She knew the Jarl, held some titled post as he recalled, and she had muttered something about owning a house there. As far as he was concerned, those were not sufficient reasons to turn that shade of pale. Of course, given that he had had to prise that information from her—and only because she would not let him slay the Legate who ordered him trussed and tied like a dumb beast—during their mad ride to freedom, and in the middle of an unholy tempest no less, there might have been a piece of information or two that he might have forgotten.
"Oh gods, Sinding. I sent him right into a war," she breathed, clearly stricken.
For one brief moment, Alduin wondered if it was worth the effort pretending to be the slightest bit sympathetic; he was trying to win the woman over, after all. Then, he promptly abandoned that notion. Some things just could not be done.
"And Lydia, and Meeko. Balgruuf would rather die than surrender the Jarl's seat..."
Her voice cracked on that last word and her mouth had melted into a thin, tense line. Her eyes burned so blue the pupils seemed to shine with black fire. They had gotten larger, he realised with a start that caused his breath to hitch, more slanted. 'Almost the way they were in the Misty Grove.'
"You mean to save them, to ride into the middle of a siege when yours has always been the domain of shadow and silence." He spoke so quietly that neither Lucan nor Camilla could quite hear him. "Freyja, you know nothing of war."
"Whiterun is my city. And I will defend it. I can't not do anything." She did not so much speak as she snarled it, however softly. "Now let me go."
For possibly the first time in his long life, Alduin did as he was told. He watched as she strode into the house, requesting every stamina potion and soul gem under its roof. Lucan and Camilla promptly ran to do her bidding. This was the first time he had ever seen Freyja when something she cared for was being threatened and if she had been a dragon, she would have been breathing flame and smoke. 'Or possibly ice,' Alduin corrected his evaluation. Some, whether man or dragon, might have stormed and ranted, whipped around the room in a frenzy of coiled scales and sharp claws, or struck at hapless underlings with staffs wrought of bronze and inlaid with pure gold while they blustered about in their long robes of purple. Freyja held herself almost perfectly still, the set of her features cool and grim. She was a gathered storm, poised and ready to strike.
"There, that is the entire lot. Eight greater soul gems, five of which are filled, and seven extreme stamina potions." Before Camilla could shove everything into a brown sack, Alduin reached out and took two of the brightest and largest soul gems. Tossing one to Freyja and keeping an eye on a slightly unnerved Lucan, he unsheathed the Nightingale sword and laid the soul gem on it. The crystal flickered, hissing as it crumbled to nothingness, and the soul cast a faint glow in the room while it bathed the midnight blade in its light.
With visible effort, Camilla shut her mouth, which had been hanging open. "Somehow, I never get used to that." Quickly, she twisted the mouth of the sack close and secured it with cord. And then unbelievably, she walked around from the counter, approached him and held out the bundle.
Alduin simply stared down the length of his nose at her. When she still did not take his hint, he lifted a brow slightly. He knew she finally understood when a dark scowl stole over her face. She pursed her lips, eyes darting over to Freyja's hand and lingering on the gaudy wedding band that Sanguine had forced on them. Obviously, she had reservations about the Dragonborn's choice of spouse. "You wish to say something." It was a statement, phrased like a question and wrapped in a deceptively polite drawl which belied the emotion that fuelled it.
"Camilla, I'll take it." Freyja held out her hand and after a moment's hesitation, the other woman scooted over to her and out of harm's way. Obviously, his clever wife knew what he was up to. "Lucan, this should be sufficient payment." She reached into the pouch clipped to her sword belt and withdrew a rather large, fat purse of septims together with two diamonds.
"Perhaps a little too much actually." Lucan untied the purse and spilled its contents on the counter, next to that fascinating golden dragon claw that looked like the only item of real worth in the shop. "Let me count these out—"
"There's no time." If he had not already been convinced that she was worried, this would have done it. Freyja, in spite of being the inveterate septim hoarder that he knew her to be, barely glanced at the gleaming gold coins which, justifiably, bore the seal of Akatosh on one side and, to Alduin's eternal irritation, the side profile of Talos on the other. "Your door looks secure enough. Make sure the one above is equally locked and bolted. If he can, get Alvor to put some iron or steel bars over the windows."
"He's been doing that ever since those bandits from Embershard Mine came down last week to raid the village. We chased them off, got two of them, but they killed Stump."
If she clenched her jaw any harder, she would hurt herself. As it was, the knuckles of the hand that clutched the sack had turned white. "Did anyone else die?"
"One Hold guard, but no one else was injured. Frodnar's been crying his eyes out, poor child, and obviously all the guards have gone back to the city to defend it..."
If it was Lucan's intent to console Freyja, he was doing a terrible job. Alduin was about to either knock the man out with the golden claw or simply take Freyja and march both of them outside, when Camilla intervened.
"But you needn't worry about us." With consummate skill, she slid herself between the counter and Freyja, effectively blocking Lucan from view. "Faendal's managed to recruit the local hunters who are all too glad to be near the village for the time being. And Alvor's armed all of us. You are the Thane of Whiterun; it is there that you must go."
If there ever was a perfect cue for them to leave, that was it. Walking over to the door, Alduin pushed it open and let the brilliant afternoon sun spill in. Then he walked out, hand on the hilt of his blade as a casual warning to the hulking great steed that stomped a foreleg on the ground upon seeing him.
He did not have long to wait. Freyja took her leave quickly, pulling him up behind her and just in time before Shadowmere reared up, pawing the air before taking off with blazing speed. "He did that deliberately," Alduin shouted above the sound of the thunderous galloping.
"He likes an audience." Ordinarily she would have smiled but she did not turn back and her voice was flat, stripped of any good humour.
"You promised to go back and hunt down the bandits." He leaned closer into her, arms wrapped securely around her waist. Shadowmere might be the architect of this bloodcurdling ride at breakneck speed but Alduin had not lived so long without learning to make the most of a bad situation. "You do know it is impossible to save everyone." The sooner she did, the better. She would realise it would be hopeless trying to save this land, these people from tearing themselves to pieces.
What he assumed would be a few minutes' silence lasted a good portion of the journey. Beneath them, Shadowmere practically flew over the ground. They were still on the main path, he realised, and in broad daylight to boot. There was little he could do but trust that Shadowmere knew what he was doing. The horse certainly did not care for him, but he had yet to meet another who was so fiercely protective of Freyja. Just as Alduin had concluded that she was going to completely ignore him, she spoke up.
"I didn't promise. I will go back, if I can. And I know that they can fend for themselves, as they always have."
"But?"
They came to a sharp bend in the road. Shadowmere barely slowed his pace, forcing them to lean down in the saddle. As they did, he caught a glimpse of her side profile and was taken aback by how worn she looked.
"I knew that dog. He knocked his master to the ground and shielded the boy with his body when a dragon swooped down into the village. Riverwood was the first village I came to after Helgen. The people were kind to me, and generous." Suddenly, the sound of growls rent the air and Alduin caught sight of sleek dark shapes weaving through the thick brush of the forest before bursting out onto the road to run on either side of them. "Gods-damned wolves!" she swore.
There were five and they were fast, almost as fast as Shadowmere. They threw themselves relentlessly at the horse, those massive snapping jaws missing by inches but steadily getting closer with each attempt.
Fire might burn Shadowmere's flank, especially at this angle. At any other given moment, Alduin would not have minded. But on this occasion, ice would better suit his purposes.
"IIZ SLEN!"
Two of the wolves were hurled back, bound in crystalline fingers of ice that rapidly encased them. A third wolf fell behind, buffeted down the riverbank by sparks of lightning that left its fur charred and smoking. Alduin was reaching for his sword when Shadowmere suddenly slowed down. "Hang on!" Freyja shouted. That was all the warning he got when beneath him, powerful muscles exploded into action and Shadowmere bucked, lashing out with both hind legs. There was a tremendous dull crack and the loud ear-piercing yowl of a creature in great agony, and before he realised it was over, they were off and galloping. A glance behind revealed a dead wolf and another crawling slowly to the side of the road. It would die before the day was out, either from its injuries or because of another predator.
After that, they were all on edge. Alduin kept an eye out for wild beasts and possible soldier scouts until he saw the smoke rising in the distance. Finally, they reached the crest of a hill, where the road grew winding as it twisted down to a scene of carnage and chaos.
He had seen worse. He had done worse. But it was the Dragonborn that he looked at the most, because he knew how this must seem to her. The fields were burning, flames and smoke rising from the wasted ruins of the farmsteads like ragged banners to stain the sky and blacken the sun. Ash touched his face and he tried not to breathe it in to little avail.
She did not wait for him to dismount, simply lifted a leg over Shadowmere's neck and slid to the ground. Walking slowly, like one in a dream, she stood at the edge of the crest, far away and high enough above to gaze down safely at the sea of blue and grey that swelled against the walls of the city she had come to save. The low bellow of war horns blasted the air; arrows darted back and forth between the attackers and defenders; amidst the battle cries of soldiers were also screams of pain. Strange war machines that he had never seen littered the field; they were armed with mechanisms that enabled them to fling rocks at the city walls.
"He's sent hundreds of men," Freyja uttered, almost as if in disbelief. "There must be more than a thousand."
"Three thousand," he corrected quietly. "How many guards would the city have?"
"About three hundred. Balgruuf refused to let Tullius garrison Legion solders in Whiterun. He said it was an act of good faith, his way of showing Ulfric that he was on nobody's side but Whiterun's." Behind them, Shadowmere came up and placed his muzzle gently on Freyja's shoulder. "So that's why you came back," she murmured, turning to press her head against his. "And now we have to ride into this."
To say that he was livid hardly covered the extent of his feelings when he heard that statement. "That is utter madness," he snapped. Freyja simply moved to the packs secured to Shadowmere's saddle. She filled her pouch with an assortment of potions, downed a stamina potion and when he put out a hand to stop her, she had the audacity to push a bottle into his hand and tell him to swallow its contents as well. Instead, he dropped it on the ground. "What could you hope to accomplish? You may be the Dovahkiin but you are one woman against three thousand."
Brow furrowed in concentration, Freyja unplugged a crimson bottle and poured its contents over the Daedric blade. The red veins of the sword seemed to glow as the clear, oily liquid seeped into every jagged crevice, coated its razor teeth. She did the same to the elven dagger she retrieved from her boot. Then, very carefully, she sheathed them before handing him a spare pouch. He refused to take it. "I am not going to let you throw your life away on a lost cause." The thought of her dying on that field below horrified him.
"Then help me."
Alduin laughed bitterly. "What would you have me do? Call down burning stars so that I might obliterate everything that yet stands, including you? It is for this very reason that you have not called down a storm. The tempest would strike all, including those you wish to protect."
"No. But a dragon would make all the difference in this war. So call him."
It was a rare thing, to see Alduin speechless, so stunned he couldn't even grope for words or a place to start. "How did I know, you want to ask?" Taking his hand, I placed the spare pouch with soul gems, stamina and magicka potions in his palm and closed his fingers over it, wishing it was his skin that I could touch, instead of the leather and metal gauntlet of the Blades armour. "It was the Falkreath guards who said you called down a dragon. They mentioned two had perished but one had escaped. When you told me what happened, you only spoke of the dragons you fought. And between you and the guards," I let his hand go, "I do believe you have more to hide from me than they do. I just wish you'd told me though."
Reaching back, I pulled the cowl up over my head, tugging the half-mask up from beneath my chin until the soft thin material clung to my cheeks. At least I wouldn't choke on ash on the battlefield even if the taste was already in my mouth. "So will you help me?"
As long as I lived, I doubted that anyone could look at me with such intensity that I felt unravelled, even with all my armour on and my weapons at my side.
"He would never consent to bear you on his back, not unless you defeat him in battle. The concept of fighting for a city, for mortals that will neither reward nor welcome him does not sit well with me, and it certainly will not with him."
"I don't need him to carry me to the city or fight Ulfric's men. I just need you to clear a path to the entrance for me, that's all."
"And what in the name of Akatosh could you hope to accomplish inside there?
"I have to reach Balgruuf. Under any other circumstance he would be well guarded. But there's a war at his gate and he would have sent every available soldier out to fight. He would be fighting on the battlements if not for the fact that Irileth would lock him in his own dungeons just to keep him safe. The Stormcloaks might have planted agents in the city before this siege. All it would take is a moment's distraction amidst all this chaos to kill him. Trust me, I know."
"Freyja, even if they spare him, this city will still fall to those you name Stormcloaks. It makes no difference if he lives or dies."
Behind me, Shadowmere whinnied impatiently. "Whether you call the dragon or not, Alduin, I must go. Whiterun's my city; I cannot desert it anymore than you could have Bromjunaar." I untied the remaining packs from the saddle, stuffed them in the long grass at the foot of a tree and muttered a hasty prayer to Nocturnal to defend this thief's property from other thieves. Then, I swung myself up in the saddle and we began making our way down the broken cobbled road. I refused to glance back at the man I was leaving behind. He would call the dragon. He had to.
It had been a long time since I had felt this enraged and desperately afraid. Alduin was right; shadows and silence were my greatest weapons. I had never seen a war, let alone fought in one. And without the night, I was a clear target in my strange dark armour atop a huge black mount with eyes the colour of blood. But behind those walls were Balgruuf, Lydia, Meeko, Sinding and others whom I called friend. Somehow, I was going to make my way through that storm of swords and arrows, and into Whiterun. "Best to leave the road then," I murmured, tugging on the left rein and Shadowmere obviously agreed, for he complied. "We could circle around, try to stay hidden on the slopes and behind the trees until we get to the Pelagia farm, or whatever is left of it—" My throat closed up. If I lived, there would surely be Black Sacraments performed, calling for Ulfric's death and the Dark Brotherhood would be more than happy to respond to those.
Then came the sound that I had been waiting for. In the distance, a dragon roared, loudly enough to draw the attention of some of the soldiers at the fringes of the battlefield. Shadowmere and I moved deeper into the cover of the trees, and waited.
An answering rumble shook the air, and I smiled at a sight that used to make me run for the nearest shelter. A dragon came soaring down over the mountains, red and pale grey, the smoke scattering before the wind of his wings.
The Stormcloaks did not know it yet, but the tide of this battle had just turned.