Hello guys! This is a chapter which kicks off the storm properly. (And I know I say that lot.) Next is a Ralof chapter (you guys have been asking, but I needed to work them to my time scheme for events), and then it's Sovngarde. Also, the battle of Solitude starts next.

Onto the thanks. I got loads of reviews, so seriously thanks! It was great to get and I'm starting to get near the magic two hundred! To ejthepinoy, I loved reading your well thought out ideas on who will win. Like I said, I asked for opinions and you gave a great one. Thanks for the review! To JakMar, thanks for the review. Glad to see your opinion! As for getting Jon a weapon- read on in this chapter! To RaptorZeroOne, thanks for the review. Also fun to see what readers think is going to happen! I love reading it. To Delphine hater, thank you for the review. I appreciate the good luck, and as to your request: I am not going to bring Alea back. I'm sorry, but it wouldn't work for my story, HOWEVER she will feature again, and not in a memory of Ulfric's. To BrunetteAuthorette99, thanks for the review. You did the smartest thing and didn't place a bet at all. I'm glad you liked Tullius taking charge and kicking Erikur's arse! To HereLies, cheers for your review! As always, I love your analysis of the chapter. Tullius and Erikur's feud will have long term effects… To Aero, thanks for the review. As for Ralof, he's coming up next! Erikur is the Solitude Thane who says: 'I'm a Thane of Solitude' in a dicky way, even though you are the Dragonborn. He has no beard and sandy hair. To DoctorDovah, I like your opinion, and review. One for the Imperials. Like I said, Ralof next! To Vickmackey007, thanks for the favourite and story favourite. To Lucie Anonymous, I loved receiving THREE reviews! Glad you liked Ysold's POV and placed a bet on the coming battle. One for the Stormcloaks! To Darth Rabbits, nice name, thanks for the story follower thing! To DraGG, thanks for the review. You made a good point in regard to the war. You said the Imperials have to win otherwise the war will end. True, unless Tullius escapes, they're screwed. Another Imperial score. And last of all to ephad, thanks for the story follower. This is great! I loved reading those reviews and other stuff. It was great, please keep it coming.

The score as it stands: Imperials- 3, Stormcloaks- 2, Other- 1

Jon Dovahkiin

Jon Dovahkiin pushed his key, horse, hard over the hill and up onto its flat surface. There he stopped, and surveyed the landscape. Jon silently experienced a surge of joy that briefly broke through his immense weariness as he spotted Whiterun. But not for long...
Ysold followed closely behind him, on her own mount with Alsfur perched on the front. Jon felt a surge of appreciation towards his family. It hadn't taken Ysold long to work past her shock and remember the old tales of Dragonborn. But what warmed Jon's heart was the fact that she had accepted that he was this legendary hero. It didn't make things better between them, but at least she knew now. Ysold had also been incredibly tolerant of their circumstances. She'd said nothing when their mounts died beneath them on the hard road, and when Jon watched the vulon, night, scouring the landscapes for enemies she had sat next to him, keeping him company. But she couldn't help him, not really. It's my quest, my destiny, Jon thought. I have to do this myself this time.
The fortress city of Whiterun was spread out before them. The ending point. Jon spurred his horse down the hill wearily, his breath low and rasping.
The fight with the Blades, the race to his home, and now the forced ride of nearly two weeks had drained Jon like nothing he had ever felt. A ride of at least three weeks normally, Jon's sudden, and relentless, drive had pushed them all to their limits. Ysold was looking slightly haggard, but Jon thought he had never seen her more beautiful. In this state she looked wild, and pure. Rek los Jud. He watched as she rode past, her dress clinging tight to her sweat covered body, and he felt his arousal grow. But it couldn't happen, not now. He turned his mind away from his sensual thoughts, instead focusing his tired body onto the completion of his destiny.
They reached Whiterun in early morning, leaving their horses in the stables and making their way through the open gates and up to Dragonsreach.
Ysold moved closer to Jon as she studied the unfamiliar environment. 'Why are we going up to the palace?'
He looked down at her face, set with an anxious look that Jon thought was cute, and he leaned down.
'I know the Jarl.'
Ysold blanched, and she looked up in awe at him. 'You know the Jarl?' She repeated in a tone that sounded dismissive, but Jon knew that secretly, she was bouncing inside.
'He's the one who first suggested that I seek out the Greybeards.'
'The ones who helped you discover your destiny?' Jon nodded. 'How do you know that he will welcome you in?'
'I'm the Dragonborn, and a Thane of Whiterun. Why wouldn't he?' Jon put on a confident look, but he shared Ysold's doubts secretly; he hadn't seen Balgruuf in months and couldn't be sure of the Jarl's disposition towards him. But Whiterun was the only place he could find sanctuary now. Balgruuf had to accept him.
They entered the palace and climbed the steps up to the Jarl's throne, Ysold at his side and Alsfur next to her. The Jarl was there, talking to his Steward, as he was the first time Jon had seen him. The Dragonborn motioned for Ysold and Alsfur to wait and strode forward, taking the knee before the Whiterun Jarl.
If Jon had his way, he wouldn't have bowed, it was the same lack of deference which had caused him to be evicted, but this was a Jarl; he couldn't afford to not treat him with bonaar, humble, respect.
When Balgruuf saw who was in front of him, his mouth worked and he studied Jon before suddenly getting off his throne and grasped the other Nord's arm in front of the whole court.
'Jon Solitude! It has been too long.' And like that, all the tension was gone. Jon breathed a sigh of relief. 'So, why are here? I do not begrudge the visit, but still.'
'My Jarl, I was betrayed by my former allies and I seek sanctuary here with my family.'
'You can stay, of course. Your family is welcome in Dragonsreach. I'll have my Steward prepare an apartment for you.' He called him over and they exchanged some quick words, before he turned back to Jon.
Meanwhile, the Dragonborn was baffled. He hadn't expected such an open welcome. 'That is most generous, my Jarl.'
Balgruuf shared his opinion. 'It is.' He looked Jon over, his expression somewhat concerned. 'Are you alright, Solitude? You look tired.'
Jon felt it. His limbs ached, and his vision was a little fuzzy, but he didn't have time to waste; even now Alduin was regaining his strength. Jon thought back to his dreams, in which he saw the World Eater leading an army of mutilated bodies, and he shuddered. He suspected that soon he would have to face that vol, horror, but he didn't know where, or when.

'Solitude, let's talk in private.'

Jon was surprised. 'What about my family?'

'Yes. I'll have someone take your family to their apartments.' The Jarl motioned and a Breton came over to direct Ysold and Alsfur to their rooms. Jon stole a glance at her; she looked puzzled, but he flashed her a weak smile to reassure them that everything was fine. Meanwhile, Balgruuf walked on ahead, leading Jon up the steps behind the throne and into a war room, which led to several other doors. Jon followed warily.

'What do you want to talk about, my Jarl?'

'Not me, him.' He pointed to a figure in grey robes, standing in a corner. On seeing the motion, the figure stepped forward, pulling back his hood.

'Argneir!' Jon was surprised to see the Greybeard here, and a little guilty. He hadn't told them where he was going, or that he had given up on his quest, but the wuth, old, Nord didn't seem to mind.

'Dovahkiin. I have come here to help you fulfil your destiny.'

Balgruuf took the chance to excuse himself, with a final word; 'when you're done, meet me by the Skyforge.'

Jon gave his word, and then turned back to Argneir. 'How?'

'It is time I revealed where Alduin has gone.'

'What do you mean?' Jon asked suspiciously.

'Alduin, in his weakened state, has travelled to Sovngarde. There he feasts on the souls of the dead to regain his strength.'

Jon felt cold all of the sudden. 'Regain his strength, in Sovngarde?'

'He will come back stronger than ever, Dovahkiin.'

'But, I wouldn't be able to defeat him…' Jon thought back to his first battle; he had barely survived.

Argneir looked angry. 'Stop doubting yourself, Dovahkiin. If you never work past the doubt, you'll never be able to overcome him.'

'But I can't, Argneir.'

'Stop this talk! Do you want Paarthurnax's death to be in vain? Is that what he would have wanted?'

Jon already knew the answer, but he felt cowed by the Greybeard's anger and didn't reply.

Argneir's expression softened. 'Jon, you have to face him, for all of us.'

Dovahkiin realised with a start that the Greybeard had used his name, and he looked up. 'I came here to krill, kill, him, and I'll see it through… even to the bitter end.' His throat caught with the last words, and he swallowed.

'I know you will,' the Greybeard said gently. 'The Jarl and I have done our utmost to prepare you in the month or so since you left High Hrothgar. To find Alduin, you will have to talk with one of his allies, a dovah, yes? You will have to call one down, as they are the only one's who can find Sovngarde, but we will discuss that later. Until then, I have a gift for you. I'm sure your father would have wanted you to have it.'

Jon's curiosity was aroused. What did his father want him to have? It was then that he noticed the long bundle of cloth by the Greybeard's side.

'He left it with us a long time ago. I think it only fitting that you should carry it, though I will leave the rest to someone far more worthy of telling you about you lineage.' Jon's mind caught onto the last words and his mind starting racing through possibilities of great lords and heroes, but before he could, Argneir pulled back the cloth.

It was a sword. A beautiful sword, Jon thought. Strong like Keizaal, Skyrim. It was a hand and a half sword, in truth longer than a traditional one by a little in the blade and handle, closer to a two handed sword than a longsword, but still undeniably with all the characteristics of a 'bastard' (nickname for a hand and a half sword), sword. The black sheath was stained, obviously by extensive age, and it had slim bands of silver that wrapped around it every foot. The bottom was made of the silvery steel, as was the mouth, where the guard rested. Draconic runes shimmered down the length of the sheath, and along the wide, straight guard that ended in points.

Argneir handed it over to Jon, who took it relevantly. The whole handle was also made of the same silvery steel, as was the blade, Jon suspected. The leather that wrapped around the grip was black, and though it too looked worn, when he gripped it, it proved to be as soft as virgin leather, and it moulded to his hand perfectly. His excitement rose steadily as he gripped the handle, preparing to draw the blade itself.

The zahkrii, sword, slid from its sheath smoothly and Jon raised it to his face. In reality, though longer than the normal hand and a halfer, it suited Jon's own height very well. The balance was perfect and even though it was long, it was only as heavy as a blade half its size. And his suspicions were proved correct; the blade was indeed made of the same steel as the handle, and it shimmered as he turned it in the light. As Jon looked at it, he noticed a faint, icy blue glow along the edge of the blade as he held it up. The Dovahkiin sheathed it, noticing the roaring bear head pommel, beautifully and meticulously carved from the same silvery metal that made up the sword.

'What is this metal?'

Argneir had been watching silently until now, his eyes glittering. 'It's skyforge steel, but not the kind that you normally encounter. This is another branch of it, made in Atmora. It is thousands of years old, this blade having once belonged to Ysgramor's second son. It is a weapon the dragon's fear, as it was carried by one of the great heroes that instigated Alduin's original fall. It's name is Kodaav.'

Jon listened in silence, unable to comprehend why Argneir had given him such a special gift, one worthy of only a… hero. His throat tightened with suppressed feelings, and the obvious intent, as the old Greybeard gave him a pointed look when discussing the history of the tuz, blade. Jon frowned, and looked at Argneir more closely. He had no idea what the Greybeard was getting at; the only history he knew was that taught to him by Ulfric Stormcloak, all those months ago…

'Why are you giving this to me?' Jon asked, still reeling from the value of this gift.

Argneir gave him a funny look, before saying; 'all with be revealed in Sovngarde. Now, go and see the Jarl. He has another gift from you.'

Jon nodded, slightly reluctant to receive so much help for quest. But he couldn't ignore all their efforts, he couldn't afford to anyway. He was tired, bloody, and on the verge of giving up, even as he committed himself further to his destiny, so he trudged to the Skyforge outside Dragonsreach without another word.

The Skyforge was a massive forge, covered by a large statue in the shape of an eagle that enclosed about half of the area. The metal forge itself was immense, and around it were weapons of all kinds, constructed in the finest quality. Every manner of tool needed to work a forge was here, all constructed using skyforge dwiin, steel. And it was also here that the greatest blacksmith of Jon's time worked; Eorlund Gray-Mane. He was a grizzled man of fifty, with the grey hair of his ancestors and strong arms. The master blacksmith worked the skyforge, as his predecessors had for eras. In Skyrim, and quite possibly Tamriel, his skill was unmatched by anybody.

Jarl Balgruuf Wind-Shifter was waiting by the forge, his wide brow covered with sweat. On Jon's arrival he spoke a few quiet words to Gray-Mane, who stopped his own work and walked off to a corner of the forge.

'Good, you're finally here,' the Jarl said. 'It's about time.' He eyed Jon's new sword. 'A pretty blade; one capable of finishing the World Eater I hope.'

Jon's mind flashed back to his first battle, and how his sword broke so easily. This time, he suspected that it would be different. 'It has to be,' was all he said in response.

Balgruuf didn't seem satisfied with that answer, but he didn't press it. 'I knew that you would have to be prepared when your battle with Alduin finally came, so I commissioned Eorlund Gray-Mane to forge you a set of armour, I think even the World Eater would have trouble besting.'

The blacksmith came back, his arms laden with pieces of metal. Eorlund placed them carefully on the floor and stood to face Jon. 'So, this is Dragonborn, eh?' He looked Dovahkiin over. 'You'll do.'

'I have here armour, made of skyforge steel, and crafted over the past month. I put aside all tasks for this, so I expect to see the World Eater's blood on it when you get back, yes.'

Jon nodded. 'If I can, I will.'

Eorlund snorted. 'I hate those who speak in riddles.' With that, the blacksmith trudged off to continue his work.

Balgruuf put a haal, hand, on Jon's shoulder. 'Ah, don't mind him. The Gray-Manes have always been prickly. Take it, and put it on. Come see me when you're done.'

Jon felt like he was about to collapse, but he said nothing and squatted to see the armour better through his tired eyes.

It was impressive. Rinik hungaar. There was a knee length mail hauberk, and the links that joined it together were tiny. It had taken immense skill to construct, Jon realised. To go on top of that was a flat collar of mail to further protect his shoulders, and a striking set of plate armour that covered his upper chest, a raised part to protect the back and sides of his neck, and flexible links that covered his arms, moulding into a pair of bracers. There were also a set of mail-backed gloves, a pair of knee height greaves, and a leather gambeson. A skyforge steel dagger in a black sheath lay on top of it all. It was amazing. Only a Jun, King, would be able to wear it, or a great hero, and it was built to be light so that, Jon presumed, he could use it to track Alduin through ruins, and plains, and eventually, Sovngarde. He donned it slowly, his tired limbs working hard to fit it onto his body. Light as the steel was, it still weighed on Jon heavily.

Now, he was beginning to really feel his earlier exertions. His legs were on fire, and he felt the cut on his chest stab him with pain on every step he took. But his pains disappeared when Jon arrived back in the war room above the main hall. It was a strange site.

The Jarl stood in the middle, looking sick. Argneir stood next to him, his face tight, but triumphant. Balgruuf's Housecarl, Carl Irileth, was next to him, her hand gripping her own sword tightly. His Court Wizard, Farengar Secret-Fire, was also present, though he looked distracted. They had obviously all be arguing about something. Jon walked up to the group, his face questioning.
Argneir spoke first; 'Dovahkiin, in your absence we have been discussing how to get a dragon here.'
'I'll just issue a challenge,' Jon said, recalling his dragon lore from his days on High Hrothgar.
'Indeed, but how to capture it?' Argneir said, in a way that suggested he knew the answer.
'Enough of this!' Balgruuf barked. 'We all know how this will end. The old snake has already talked me into it. Use the ancient traps,' he muttered.
'What traps?' Jon asked.
'Dragonsreach was built to capture a dragon, Solitude. And so it did, in the case of Olaf One-Eye.'
Jon didn't know what they were talking about, but he remained silent, using the conversation to inform himself of the details rather than admit his own shortcomings.
'So, you'll saying I should use these traps to capture a dragon, and then... interrogate him?' Jon laughed, such was the novelty of the image.
'Yes, yes, use them, and then let the dragon go or put it down,' Balgruuf agreed, his expression black. 'My guards are ready to man them; I've suspected that this would be the only way for a while now. With the civil war somewhat stalled, there is no better time.' Balgruuf still looked disgruntled, but his eyes gleamed with anticipation.
'Then let's capture a dragon.' Without further ado, Jon led the group out a large door from the war room, into a light, sunny day; the last he expected to see with winter almost upon them. Irileth strode by his side, as did the Jarl, but the others remained by the door as they made their way across the massive porch that stood at the back of Dragonsreach. Jon glanced up to see a maze of chains and wood, presumably the trap, and when he reached the end of the stone walkway, he looked down over the plains of Whiterun behind the city.

Jon Dovahkiin's armour shimmered as he turned to face his companions. Balgruuf nodded, and he readied himself, drawing up what little strength remained to him, before bellowing out in draconic; 'Dovah! Hon dii bel, ahrk meyz sahrot aar of Alduin!' Dragon! Here my summons, and come mighty servant of Alduin!

The Whiterunions, Balgruuf and Irileth, looked disturbed by his command of the dragon tongue, but the Jarl stepped forward anyway, despite his obvious nervousness.

'How do you know it will come?'

Jon turned to face him. 'He will come because of my very nature. A mortal speaking the dragon tongue, and "soiling" it through this manner, will prickle any dovah's pride. Calling for Alduin's first aar, his first servant, means that the dragon which finally comes should be high in the World Eater's circles. He will know how to get to Sovngarde, if anyone does.'

'Right. How long until it arrives?'

Jon shrugged, unsure. 'It could be hours. The best thing to do is wait.' Having said this, Jon walked to a corner of the massive porch and sat down, leaning against it, determined to grab any chance he could to rest. He closed his eyes, his armour keeping him warm in the cold light, and Jon felt the embrace of sleep rush up on him.

The ground raced along below him, many miles away. The wind rushed up under his wings and he surveyed the ground, his heart clenching as his eyes comprehended the scene below.

Armies writhed along the ground, tramping down on the vast expanse of flora and grass. Even now, under his brother's power, the land was still beautiful. Streams gurgled along, happily bouncing off rocks and hills. Little, well paved trails made their way through the gorgeous valley, all the way up to the mighty hall that stood upon the hilltop, watching over all. Such was its majesty that he had to turn away, and instead returned his gaze the armies below.

A roar pierced the night, and a black shape descended from the sky, the dark, purplish light being sucked in by his scales. He landed on a large temple, and watched his army past below, before turning his attention to the sky. The scene blurred as Jon was swept away to avoid being seen by his brother, but he knew that something had to happen soon, or mighty Sovngarde would fall under his might. The saviour was nearly here, but not quite. But he was content to stand guard, ready for that impending moment.

Jon Dovahkiin woke with a start. The light was dimmer now; obviously some hours had passed. A guard was tapping his shoulder.

'What is it?' Jon snapped.

'Wings on the wind.' The Nord quickly ran off, and Jon raised himself with effort. His limbs didn't burn like before, but his body still ached, and his mouth was dry. What he needed was proper sleep, a day of recuperation, but he wasn't granted that by the gods; they were content to let him continue as he was.

Jon thought about the dream he had just had as he listened to the lok, sky. It was disturbing, but before he could think more on it, the sound of wings softly entered his hearing. He got up and strode to the centre of the porch, where Balgruuf was watching the skies.

'He approaches, Dragonborn. Be careful, and good luck.' He turned away, leaving Jon alone facing the sky.

He didn't have long to wait. A huge, red dragon swept out of the su, air, and glided round to face Jon. It hovered, and then, in a deep, booming voice called out: 'I am here, Dovahkiin!'

Jon replied in draconic as well. 'Come down here, and test your claws against my sword.'

'Why should I? You who was bested by Alduin.'

'Are you afraid? If I could be bested by Alduin, surely you yourself can beat me.'

The dragon was angry and sniffed in disdain. 'I fear nothing!' His wings beat the ground and he swept down, landing on the porch.

With the scrape of steel, Jon drew Kodaav, and stepped back as the dragon advanced. It leapt at him, and the Dragonborn rolled, slashing Kodaav backhanded as he came up. Much to Jon's surprise, it cut through the scales and drew hot dovah sos, blood. The dragon roared in pain, and Jon dodged again as it lunged at him. It's claws came down, swiping at him, but he grasped his sword two handed, and deflected them. Kodaav held strong, blue sparks springing off it with each kiss, even as each blow jarred his arms painfully.

Jon glanced up. The trap shook overhead. With a final slash, he threw himself back, landing heavily, and the dragon followed, roaring its triumph before the heavy wooden and metal shackles fell down on him, trapping his neck.

The dragon roared in pain and humiliation, before slumping, defeated. Jon picked himself up off of the ground and walked over to him, sheathing Kodaav.

'Zu'u bonaar. You went through a great deal of effort to put me in this… humiliating position,' he said in the common tongue. Up close, the dragon was massive, nearly as big as Paarthurnax or Alduin, and red, with dusky white wing colouring.

'What is your name?' Jon asked, keeping his face calm when in fact he was surprised to even have got this far.

'Odahviing; it is Snow Winged Hunter. But I sense you care little for me personally. Hind siiv, Alduin. Why else would you call for his chief servant?'

'Indeed. Where has the World Eater bovul, fled?'

'Fled! Yes, indeed. Alduin has proved himself unworthy of my loyalty. The Dovah do not flee. Rinik vazah. One of the reasons I came here was to taste the thu'um that sent Alduin fleeing myself. We have often questioned Alduin's right to lead now, but among ourselves. Mu ni meyye. None are ready to openly defy him.'

Jon shuddered as he recalled Alduin's power. How could they question it?

'Where is Alduin?' He persisted.

'Unslaad Krosis! Innumerable pardons. I digress. He has travelled to Sovngarde to devour the souls of the sillesjoor. A privilege he guards most jealously…'

'How can I get there?' Jon asked, holding his breath in anticipation.

'Skuldafn, one of his ancient fanes, temples, in the eastern mountains. Now, zu'u lost ofan hin laan. You will free me now I have answered your questions, yes?'

'No. I cannot allow you to go free.'

'To a fellow dovah, perhaps?'

Jon looked down. 'I will think on it.'

He was about to turn away when Odahviing muttered some words that sealed his fate. 'Skuldafn can only be reached through flight, a power even you don't possess, Dovahkiin.'

Jon looked round, and then walked out of the great porch, his head swirling, ignoring his companions. So, there is a way to Sovengarde! But I have to trust a dovah… Paarthurnax warned me never to do that...

Jon decided that he needed to find Ysold, at least to tell her what was happening. He asked directions from a guard to the apartments and strode through the corridors until he found the door that had been pointed out to him. Jon could hear voices behind it, and without thinking he pushed it open, only to find himself face to face with Ysold.

Jon quickly got over his surprise and looked around. 'So, this is where you're staying? It's nice.' The apartments were large, and well furnished. He felt a surge of appreciation towards Balgruuf.

Ysold, however, looked wary. She still hadn't managed to come to terms properly with Jon's revelations, and she treated him like a stranger. 'What are you doing here?'

'I…' Any excuse withered in his mouth and instead Jon's expression became tight. 'I've captured a dragon… and I'm leaving for Sovngarde.'

At this Ysold looked incredulous… and hurt. Jon realised that she thought he was lying, but at the same time, he also discovered that he couldn't be bothered to explain. Not this time. On the journey here he had talked and explained, silently begging her to accept his destiny, but now he couldn't be bothered. Yet, he didn't want to not extend the opportunity.

'He's on the great porch. I'm leaving now. I just thought you would want to know. Can I see Alsfur?'

Ysold shook her head. 'I don't want him to see you.'

'Fine.' Jon left the room without a second glance and strode off back to the great porch, struggling to repress his feelings of hurt and betrayal. He knew that he should have gone back to Ysold and explained everything again, but he couldn't. Destiny was calling…

'Is there any other way to get Skuldafn?' Jon asked Odahviing when he returned. His conflicted feelings were making him angry.

'You may have the thu'um of a dovah, but without the wings of one, you will never see Skuldafn…' The red dragon smiled through his razor sharp teeth. 'Of course, I could fly you there, but not like this.'

'Then we are at an impasse,' Jon said curtly.

'Indeed. Orin brit ro. I cannot leave until you defeat Alduin, which you cannot do without my help.'

Jon gritted his teeth. He was about to let go of an enemy, but he had no choice. The dovah had said it well. 'I'll let you go if you promise to take me to Skuldafn, and leave Alduin's service.'

'Onikaan koraav gein miraad. It is wise to recognise when you only have one choice.' That further darkened Jon's mood, but he ignored the slight. 'And you can trust me. I will honour my pact, as any true dovah would. Free me, and I will fly you to Skuldafn,' Odahviing finished.

Jon turned away without answering, and walked back up to Balgruuf who was watching in a corner, his eyes steady.

'So, what's happening now? Are you ready to finally get going?'

'Yes, I am.' Jon didn't appreciate the reference to his detour. 'I'm freeing him.'

'What!'

'I have to… to reach Alduin.'

Balgruuf nodded, his jaw working. 'Do it then, Dragonborn.'

Jon nodded. If he did this, he was betraying the gods and falling from his duty. But he had to, if he wanted to fulfil his destiny. He strode to the chain that had been tied in place to hold to the weights that sprung the trap, and with one slash of Kodaav they broke and trailed up, whipping past Jon.

The Dovahkiin turned back and watched as the wood and metal rose up off Odahviing's neck. The dragon roared and lumbered to the edge of the porch, swinging his tail from side to side. Jon was afraid he might go back on his promise, but he didn't, instead turning he turned to face Dovahkiin.

'Saraan uth! I await your command.' Jon made his way over and the dovah looked down at him with sparkling white eyes. 'Are you ready to see the world as a dovah does?'

Jon nodded.

'You will envy us only more after flying the skies of Keizaal!'

With a sudden giddiness, Jon grabbed the horns on the back of Odahviing's head and hauled himself up onto the dragon, so that he rested on the front of the dovah's neck. He looked around with a strange excitement and noticed Ysold, standing by a corner of the porch, watching in amazement. Jon started to call out, but then Odahviing launched himself forward and the wind blew any words from his mouth. And then they were flying, all thoughts, desires and regrets lost to the ever shrinking city.

Please review. Also, I should say in advance. The coming events may prove painful to many, but as you wouldn't quit something like Game of Thrones, please work through this. You may not care, but some people get… touchy. By all means grieve on your reviews, just don't accuse me of favouritism. Just needed to say that. You guys are great, but as proven with Cool Dude, you have to be on your guard. As for the scores on the coming battle, please place a bet! It will take place over several chapters…