A/N: The good Lord have mercy, I have been SO bad at this this time around! Again - and a million times over - my thanks to those loyal (and it goes without saying VERY patient) readers that have stuck with me throughout the process, and I hope to have the conclusion soon. Though I am having trouble finishing this one, for some weird reason. I thought I had the ending in my head and then of course the story took on a life of its own and now I'm not sure where it's leading. But it should at the very least be interesting! Take care, enjoy the sunshine, and I hope to talk to you all again very soon!
The sentiment was repeated and then everything blurred around her. Aine closed her eyes, the dizziness not helping when she was already so unsteady, and she allowed her body to sink into a crouch. A moment later and the rush stopped and a familiar voice spoke.
"So it is done. The Eldest is no more, the one who came before and always was. Alduin dilon."
Aine started up with a gasp and she stumbled, grateful she hadn't put the bow away. Paarthurnax perched, gargoyle-like as ever, at the top of his word wall. She was close to the base of this and she met the dragon's sorrowful gaze, seeing her own guilt and loss mirrored there. It took her a moment to realize that the surrounding peaks were full of dragons, each one glinting a different color in the moonlight. Strangely, the moon threw her more than the sight of so many of the creatures. She had lost all concept of time. When Odahviing had dropped her at Skuldafn the sun was high and of course there was Sovngarde with its beautiful night lights, and now back to Skyrim where the moon greeted her in all its golden glory.
"Paarthurnax," She said quietly and moved forward to sink down on her little stone step. One hand pressed to her back where she could feel the stickiness of fresh blood and the jagged tear in her leather armor. It burned dully and she winced as her fingers worked up to the beginning of the tear. It was roughly ten inches long and though it bled freely and she was definitely weakened, she held out hope that the leather had prevented anything vital from being exposed. Her eyes found the dragon's again as he stepped down in front of her and lowered his head to her level, his gaze flickering with pity, "Yes, it's done."
"And you are left standing. Alduin was the crown of our father Akatosh's creation."
"I'm sorry," Aine murmured and found she actually was, her dragon friend seemed so despondent. She reached with one hand and he nudge her palm, resting his chin on the snow near her feet, "But it was him or me. And if he had won-"
"Destruction, yes. Krosis. You did what was necessary. Alduin flew far from our path in his pahlok, arrogance. Yet I cannot celebrate his fall. Zu'u tiiraaz ohst ok mah. Yes, my brother once. This world will never be the same," He pressed against her again and blinked his eyes, "And so your destiny is fulfilled, which you at one time were contemptuous of."
It was Aine's turn for a blink. Contemptuous? She hadn't welcomed any of this with open arms, true, and she supposed she could accept that Paarthurnax had read between the lines of what she had said to him what seemed like years ago. She tried to straighten and felt the heat intensify in her back.
"Fair enough. I certainly wasn't a willing recipient of the power and title, but when I make up my mind to finish something, I finish it. Not unlike you and your brother, I'm thinking?"
He tipped his chin against the snow in agreement and silence fell save for the soft rustling of the dragons around them. Aine was just gathering her strength to stand again when Paarthurnax spoke.
"And this world will continue to exist. Grik los lein. As you once told me, the next world will have to take care of itself. Ful nii los. Not even I can see past Time's ending and we must do the best we can with this life, world."
"Right," She agreed and taking a deep breath hurt. She leaned forward, hoping to ease the discomfort and Paarthurnax was closer still, "And that means I can't regret that Alduin's dead. I can feel sorry that it happened the way it did, I actually really hate that it came to this, but like you said, he chose to leave your path and suffered the consequences. I just… I just don't like this killing business."
"No, it is not for you," His voice had dropped in volume as well and everything else seemed forgotten, "Alduin wahlaan daanii. Yet I would not have assisted you, dovah, if I believed otherwise. Perhaps now you have an insight to forces that shape the vennesetiid - Time's currents; perhaps now you will begin to see this world as a dovah. Krosis, I forget myself. So los mid fahdon. Melancholy is an easy trap for me. Yours was sahrot krongrah - mighty victory indeed. It will echo through all ages of this world for those who have eyes to view it. Savor this, my dovah, it is not the last of what you write upon the currents of Time."
Aine chuckled and hissed at the new onslaught.
"I don't know, Paarthurnax, if I don't get checked out it might be," She reached out again and he obliged, pressing his nose to her palm. The scales were smooth and cool in the night air and she leaned forward, ignoring the pain, and pressed her forehead to his snout. His body went completely still and she was rather pleased with herself for surprising him, "You were wonderful, a great friend, and I get the feeling this might be the last time I can speak to you like this. So I wanted to say thank you. I really wish you all the rest and peace this world can give you, Paarthurnax, you've earned it."
Paarthurnax very gently raised his chin to nudge her head. It was affectionate and almost playful and she lifted herself to look in his eyes.
"And you as well, my little dovah," He blinked at her and then spread his wings and lifted silently from the ground. His voice boomed around as the other dragons took their cue from him and rose into the sky as well. They circled the summit and one by one flew off into the night sky, "Goraan! I feel younger than I have in many ages! Many of the dovahhe scatter across Keizaal and without Alduin's lordship, they may bow to the vahzen - the rightness of my Thu'um! And willing or not, they will hear it! Farewell, dovahkiin!"
Paarthurnax made two rounds of the mountain and then wheeled away and disappeared with the rest. Aine had stood during some point of his speech and she felt her sadness sharpen with the pain when the dragon was lost to her. She gave a little sigh and turned to head down to Hrothgar when another of the beasts landed in front of her. For one wild moment she thought it was Alduin and she fumbled for an arrow when he spoke to her.
"Pruzah wundunne wah Wuth Gein. I wish the old one luck with his - quest - but I do doubt many will exchange Alduin's lordship for the tyranny of Paarthurnax and his Way of the Voice," Odahviing would have shrugged if it was possible for a dragon to do so, his look told Aine that much. She pushed the arrow back into the quiver and rested on her bow again, "As for me, I am yours should you need assistance. You have proven yourself worthy twice over. Thuri, dovahkiin. I bow to your power, to your Thu'um. Zu'u Odahviing. Call my name and I will come - if I can."
Aine caught that same mischievous lilt she had at Dragonsreach as Odahviing flew off and of course that conjured everything else. Seamus and his affectionate pet-names and crooked grin, Ralof with his tender embrace and passionate kisses; the fact that she still had to deal with Percival and Stychus… And the Stormcloak-Empire fiasco if she was entirely honest. She had - yes, reluctantly - accepted her title of Dragonborn and she was a fool if she thought for a moment that she could fade to the background now. She shook her head and started down the path, making it halfway before she realized the skies were cleared and she didn't have to use her Shout. Her blood loss was probably more severe than she originally believed and this was a testament to it. She should have realized right away and the fact that she didn't kind of scared her.
She made it to the rear courtyard of Hrothgar before she collapsed to her knees and just couldn't go any farther. She was in the midst of a fierce debate with herself about calling for help when she saw the dim grey shapes move toward her. It was Arngeir with one of his brothers and they helped her to her feet and half-carried her into the warm, rich smelling rooms of the fortress. She was dimly aware of being laid face-down on the fur rug in Arngeir's office and she felt the pull of her split-apart breastplate being tugged from her back.
The pain increased and she moaned quietly as one of the Greybeards began cleaning the wound. Her body stiffened and she was half off the floor when a cool, steel-like hand clamped on the back of her neck and pushed her back down. The tearing of her shirt was strangely loud in her ears and she struggled against that grip before realizing how useless it was. She squirmed instead with each gentle poke and prod against the wound and didn't realize Arngeir asked her a question until he repeated it at least twice.
"What?"
"Was this from Alduin?"
"His - ah! - his front claw. Shit! Would you-"
"Shh, Ysmir, we are almost done. The poison has had a chance to get into your blood and we must make sure that we can clean the wound thoroughly before we give you any potions."
Aine stiffened, the words not really conducive to remaining still and calm, but Arngeir's grip was so strong and she was caught. She didn't have any choice but to lay there and let them work. When the Greybeards finally moved back from her, her face was wet with tears of pain and frustration. She would have reached up to knock them aside, but couldn't manage. And then she felt more vulnerable than ever when Arngeir himself wiped her cheeks with a handkerchief and settled beside her. Aine pressed her eyes closed and took a breath. It still hurt, but she felt the cool relief of whatever tincture was used. She was able to take the potion he handed her without embarrassing herself and she grimaced at the taste as Arngeir started in.
"You were successful."
He wasn't asking and Aine opened her eyes to look up at him. His face was composed as ever though there was an underlying elation that could never be wholly concealed.
"I was. Skyrim - Tamriel - is safe… for now," She frowned as a thought hit her, "I think. Alduin was killed, but I never absorbed the soul. Is that strange? Or is it different because we were in Sovngarde and not actual… life?"
"I have never heard it put in such a way," Arngeir tipped his head and one hand stroked idly through his beard, "But I suppose you could be right, Ysmir. Sovngarde is the afterlife and not many mortals are granted the privilege of a foretaste. Alduin being killed there would be a different situation than if he were killed here. There was nothing? Not even a beginning of the soul transfer?"
Aine inhaled again and felt the tightness of her wound, but she went on with the story of Alduin's death, downplaying her part and emphasizing the others'. Which - as far as she was concerned - was more than warranted. Arngeir listened raptly and it wasn't until she had eased into a sitting position and caught a glimpse of the rest of the room that she realized the other Greybeards were grouped around the beautiful desk and listening just as intently. Her back throbbed, but she wasn't about to linger here for the rest of the night. She wanted Seamus and Ralof and it didn't matter that she didn't have Lettie this time; she would find a mount in Ivarstead. Or just take one and worry about the cost later… or not.
"And you truly think he's gone?"
It was more of a demand than a question and Arngeir sat back on his heels.
"I truly cannot answer you, Ysmir. Dragons are not normal, mortal creatures and Alduin is - was - unique even among his own kind. He may very well be permitted to return at the end of time to fulfill his own destiny as the World-Eater and that is for the gods to decide; not you or me. You are finished with your part."
"For now."
Arngeir ignored the animosity in her words, but inclined his head.
"You have shown yourself mighty indeed, in both Voice and action. In the act of defeating Alduin, you showed a mastery of the most dreadful weapons in this life. It is now up to you what you will do with your power. Will you be a hero and allow your name to be remembered fondly in song and tale throughout the ages? Or will it become a curse? And still there is a possibility that you will simply fade from memory, remembered as a woman who gave what she had to end a tyrant and then disappeared from the forefront of human knowledge," Arngeir leveled his gaze on her when her lips opened to say that that was her particular preference, no matter how damned far-fetched it was, and she pressed them into a line when he continued, "Let the Way of the Voice be your guide, Ysmir, and welcome the path of wisdom that opens to you. Breathe and focus; your future lies before you."
"My future," Aine repeated the words rather bitterly and couldn't suppress the moan of pain when she stood. It took a moment to gather her strength and she could feel the blood drain from her face. She caught her torn shirt more firmly against her chest and motioned for her breastplate. Arngeir looked at her wordlessly for a beat and then handed the clean cotton shirt to her before turning over the armor. She hissed in pain and managed the shirt and buckles without too much trouble. The Greybeard's disapproval didn't mean much to her at this point in time, "Rife with meetings, strategy talks, and endless frustration. My thanks for your help, all of you, and I'm sure we will speak soon… Part of the strategy, right?"
"You should not-"
"No, I have to, so don't bother," Aine tried to straighten her shoulders and couldn't, but she refused to accept defeat and arched her brows at him, "Anything else?"
"Call on the Greybeards when you must, Ysmir, and we will answer. If you will not listen to reason and wait until your wounds have set, then we will send our tinctures with you as well as our blessings," Arngeir gave her a bow as one of the others stepped forward and handed her a satchel that clinked with bottles, "Until we meet again… Dragonborn."
Aine ended up 'borrowing' a mount from the inn. She allowed her guilt to leave a note on the stable door and she also left a portion of sovereigns just in case the horse was not returned. It was a very spirited stallion that neighed and snorted at her the moment she crept into the stables and she liked his energy; she needed his energy. Her back was not 'set' and it hurt with each step down the path from Hrothgar. She still had no idea what time it was, but when Whiterun came into view the eastern sky almost looked a bit lighter. She slipped from the stallion's saddle and led him into the stables. The horse-master was absent, not surprising at an early hour, and she unbuckled the saddle and quickly brushed the horse down, tossing him a scoop of oats.
As soon as the task was finished, Aine slipped into the city and headed for Dragonsreach. The streets were quiet and deserted, even the patrols were missing from this part of town, and she climbed the steps to the palace as the sky continued with its almost-brightness. Her skin pricked a bit at the fact that the doors weren't guarded, but she didn't think too much of it and pushed the huge things open herself. The foyer was dark save a few torches closer to the steps leading to the dragon trap and Farengar's office, and she started into the depths slowly.
The movement behind her was quiet and too late, she realized something was very wrong. She had just turned, one hand reaching for a knife, and then something crashed against her skull and everything disappeared into a murky black.
She came to slowly, very slowly, the black fading into an ugly brown at the edges of her eyes. Her head throbbed and her back pained her more than ever, and she reached with one hand and found her wrists bound tightly. She tried again and heard a horrifyingly familiar laugh. Her back went stiff with fury and she shoved that brown-black from her vision, needing her full attention for whatever came next. Her eyes focused on the scene in front of her and she struggled until she couldn't stand the pain; which wasn't long.
Seamus, stripped of armor and his shirt, was lashed to one of the huge pillars in the foyer of Dragonsreach, and an Imperial guard stood close. He held a whip in one hand and Seamus' pale brown eyes were fixed on Aine. He shook his head when their gazes locked and Aine pulled harshly at her bound wrists, shoving the pain to the back of her head.
"Now, now, little Bird, don't get too excited," Stychus crouched in front of her and she strained even more. Her mouth opened to yell at him and the cloth of the gag fell in against her tongue. She tried to spit it out and twisted her hands until she couldn't feel her fingers anymore; it was no use. The captain smiled at her and all rational thought was very quickly disappearing, "You can't be surprised I'd take the precaution, little Bird. It was a clever trick, but like I said, your footing was bound to slip. I think we should pick up where we left off last time. I know the Nord has a more… shall we say physical presence in your life now, right? Right. But even I can see that is not enough and I think if I want to live up to your idea of sadism, your Seamus has to suffer. Watch carefully and remember," He bent close, his lips practically touching her ear, "This is all on you."
The Imperial guard unfurled the whip and began striking Seamus. Aine screamed against the gag, pulling harder than ever and causing the ties to cut into her wrists so badly she felt the warmth of fresh blood. Seamus kept quiet at first, but when the lashes counted thirteen, he couldn't help but cry out and Aine felt each one through her entire being. Her rage was such that the only things she could focus on were her friend's pain and the fact that Stychus watched her like a hawk. She felt tears against her cheeks and she kept repeating 'stop', not sure what good it would do her. She had nothing to trade for Seamus' life, but she just couldn't take it. Seamus seemed to feel what she was thinking and his eyes met hers, making it that much worse. Between exclamations of anguish, he implored her not to act and she couldn't promise him that. It had nothing to do with the fact that she couldn't speak; she truly couldn't promise him. It was not in her nature.
Stychus had turned to Seamus when he spoke to her and she hardly registered the captain anymore. She kept trying to spit out the gag and between her struggles and the saliva, it loosened enough that she could push it from her mouth. It fell down against her chin where it stuck and she didn't yell at Stychus. Her sole focus was Seamus Hady and stopping the assault against him. The count was now at twenty-six and she couldn't do it, she couldn't do it.
"Stop!" She cried hoarsely and felt more than saw Stychus turn to her. He started in her direction and she felt the give of her ties now, too. She pulled harshly, not feeling the raw and broken skin and got one hand free. She had been bound with both wrists tied together, her arms hugging the pillar like Seamus was, and she darted toward him, ignoring Stychus completely, "Stop, enough! Take me instead-"
"Anni-"
"No, take me," Her voice was frantic at the sound of her nickname and she wrenched herself from Stychus' grip, crouching beside Seamus, "Let him go. Take me, take me."
She reached with one hand to touch Seamus' cheek and the whip whistled down, hitting her in the head, and she fell against the pillar. Seamus called the Imperial every name in the book and the lashes hit Aine again, this time catching her left arm and shoulder and she cried out. He hit her a third time and Aine grabbed the lashes before he could yank them away. Her hands slipped in Seamus' blood, but she let the ends wrap around her fingers and held tight, her temper heating rapidly. Stychus was there at her shoulder and she pulled hard on the whip, yanking it from the Imperial and turning on the captain. He was ready for her and threw one arm up, the whip circling him without causing injury and he pulled himself. Aine was ready for this and she caught herself in a tug-of-war with the damned thing, wanting nothing more than to tear out the captain's grey eyes.
"Lousy piece of shit!" She spat at him and the Imperial was trying to slip another gag over her mouth. She ducked her head and heard Seamus' voice imploring her to remember what she could use. It didn't make any sense to her and she refused to let go of the whip while she still tried to keep from being bound again, "Sick bastard! Let go!"
"Her mouth, damn it! Cover her mouth!"
Oddly, it was Stychus' vehemence that made her realize what Seamus was talking about and her sudden stillness confused both the captain and his man. The Imperial soldier looked uncertainly at his superior and before Stychus could speak, Aine did. She shouted Odahviing's name, hearing the echoes bounce around the hall.
Stychus' face twisted with rage and he yarded on the whip, pulling it from Aine's fingers so hard she worried he actually broke a couple of the fingers. The Imperial stepped back and Stychus turned his attention to Seamus. Aine threw herself forward, covering her friend, and cried out at the heavy-handed swings against her already wounded back. Stychus kept going, oblivious to Seamus' protests and Aine's cries.
"Little bitch! You've stood in my way the last time!"
A sudden scuffle sounded at the base of the steps to the dragon trap and Stychus grunted. Aine had steeled herself for the next blow and sighed when nothing came. She shoved the pain away and slipped to the ground beside Seamus, her fingers already working at the ties. He watched her with tormented eyes and she shook her head when he opened his mouth.
"No, Seamus, no," She whispered, not caring why Stychus or the Imperial didn't attack her again, "I'm not losing or leaving you. I can't, I… I can't, don't tell me to."
"Anni…"
She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth, surprising even herself, and then went back to freeing his wrists. He sagged against the pillar, looking at her in wonder at her open affection. She brushed it aside and got to her feet with a moan, finally turning to see who had saved them.
Once again, Percival Coyne pinned the captain to the floor and the Imperial soldier had a knife to Percival's throat. His pale eyes were on Aine and Seamus and he wasn't struggling, nor was he letting go of the captain. For a moment, all of them simply stared at one another and then the roar of the dragon could be heard.
"Let him go," Aine said hoarsely and the Imperial's eyes found hers.
"Kill him," Stychus hissed and Percival was able to slam his head into the stone beneath him, "End it, cut him!"
"This is it, soldier," Aine offered and couldn't start forward right now without collapsing, "That roar is from a dragon I summoned. He will destroy everything in his path until he sees me. Do you really want to risk that for a fleeting victory? And trust me, it will be fleeting. If you kill Coyne, we kill you and then your captain. Make your choice."
"He'll kill me anyway."
The Imperial wasn't talking about Stychus and Seamus chuckled weakly behind Aine. He hadn't moved from the pillar and he looked white and strained.
"You're right, but it won't be for a while."
The sound of cries from outside the doors echoed now and Aine saw the Imperial's eyes flick in that direction.
"Wherever your men were, they'll wish they'd stayed hidden now. Odahviing's here because I called and I'm the only one that can stop him. Decide."
Aine took a half-step forward and paused when the guard pressed the blade to Percival's throat. Stychus implored his man to end it once more and Seamus' voice, sounding so normal, made Aine stop completely and look at him. He tried to stand and couldn't manage, sinking back to his heels and almost falling onto his butt.
"Remember that tomb with Frey, Anni? It was kind of something what those draugr did, huh?"
"Now, you bloody fool, now!"
Stychus was trying to heave Percival off of him and Aine faced the trio and Shouted.