A/N Look! Another chapter! I am officially amazing.

. . .

Ulfric dismounted wearily from his horse. For the past two weeks, he had been traveling to the various Stormcloak outposts that were scattered throughout Eastmarch, the Rift, and Whiterun. At each post, he had done his best to bolster the morale of the troops and give them a bright vision of the future that they could hold on because he knew that the next few months were going to be harsh. He planned to fortify his defenses over the next few weeks, but soon enough, his armies would march forward towards Markarth. It was time that he take the city that had once promised his people freedom.

But that would come later. For now, he was greatly looking forward to a night of sleep in the warmth of his bed. Handing the reins to a stable boy, Ulfric headed for the palace. The rest of the party, which consisted of Galmar, Hjornskar, and a small contingent of men, followed suit, although most of the soldiers took a detour as they passed the Candlehearth Hall. Ulfric chuckled at the sight of the young soldiers piling into the inn, looking forward to a strong drink and good company. Part of him thought about joining them, but he kept walking. He was tired, and hopefully, that exhaustion would lead to a dreamless sleep.

When he reached his bedroom, he pushed the door open and was instantly greeted with a rush of warm air. Silently, he sent a prayer of thanks to the gods that someone had thought to stoke the fire. He shrugged off his traveling cloak and laid it over a chair for one of the maids to pick up in the morning. He was about to change out of the rest of his clothing and into his sleepwear when he spied a pile of parchment and packages in the middle of the table. He had forgotten that he had told Jorleif before he left to have all of the most urgent mail sent straight to his room so that he could look at it when he got back. With a sigh, Ulfric sat down in the chair, rustling his cloak as he did so, and turned to the pile. It seemed his sleep would be delayed a while longer.

The first few papers were letters from his generals that he had stationed in the field. Thankfully, the reports were all positive. Things were going well for the Stormcloak army, it seemed, although he would have to remind Galmar to send another detachment to Fort Amol in the morning. Following those reports was a request from the Jarl of Dawnstar for military action against the giants of in the hold. Ulfric put that letter aside for Jorleif to draft an adequate response to. He had already told Skald that the giants were the least of their problems right now, and that answer hadn't changed. Finally, Ulfric reached the last paper and the small package attached to it.

The single page was slightly wrinkled from its travel, but Ulfric would recognize the handwriting anywhere. His heart seemed to freeze in his chest as his eyes scanned the page, reading the single sentence written on it in the graceful handwriting of Varaduilwe Oaken-Song.

'Forgive me, Ulfric, I was never worthy of her legacy.'

Ulfric's eyes turned to the package, and even without opening it, he knew what lay within. His hands moved slowly, carefully setting down the letter before picking up the package. The wrapping was smooth and careful as if the sender had wanted to ensure the protection of the object within. Hesitantly, Ulfric tore open the packaging, hoping against hope that he was wrong, that it wasn't in there, that she hadn't done what he thought she had. But then the metal began to peek through the packaging, glinting in the flickering light of the fire, and he knew she had. Slowly, he finished unwrapping the amulet, holding it gently between his fingers.

Vara had given him back his mother's Amulet of Talos because she didn't believe she was worthy of it. What had happened to her while she had been gone to make her believe that? What had she suffered through? Ulfric bowed his head, clutching the amulet in his fist, the metal digging into his skin, his knuckles turning white. What had happened to Vara?

. . .

Vara shivered against the might of the wind that pushed against her. "Lok vah kor!" The words drove away the wind for a time and cleared the path of mist as Vara placed one foot in front of the other into the snow that covered the Throat of the World. The cold, although it was oppressive, didn't bother her much. Her wandering mind ignored it.

She had left Whiterun for High Hrothgar just as she had told Balgruuf she would do, and she had sent Delphine the dossier with Esbern's information so that the Blade could track him down. While Delphine had been busy scouring Riften for her old colleague, Vara had been recuperating in High Hrothgar.

The monks had taken excellent care of her, and she had spent a little over a week in the monastery, learning as much as she could about her calling as Dragonborn as well as the language of the Dovah. Apparently, she had a knack for the language, and Arngeir said that he had never heard of someone learning so quickly. It wasn't just words of power that she was good at remembering; she was also able to pick up the common words of the language quite quickly as well. By the end of her stay, she was able to have a decent conversation with the monks in Dovahzul.

Eventually, however, she had had to leave the safety of the mountain to meet with Delphine and Esbern, and that had led to more information, and more questions, about her destiny as the Dragonborn. She now knew that she would have to slay Alduin, the harbinger of the end times, but the questions that the Blades had been unable to answer was how. And that was why she was here, climbing the mountain above High Hrothgar to speak to Paarthurnax, the leader of the Greybeards.

She Shouted once again, the mist and wind parting in the face of her powerful Voice, and this time, she was able to see the top of the mountain. Her feet quickened, and she made her way through the snow. Eventually, she reached a large level area. To one side stood a large, and empty, Word Wall, much like the ones she had seen throughout Skyrim, and on top of the Word Wall sat an ancient dragon. Paarthurnax.

The dragon left his perch, circling Vara in the air for a few moments before landing in front of her, shaking the earth as he did so. He tilted his head and seemed to regard her with some curiosity. "Drem Yol Lok," the great creature rumbled. "Greetings, wunduniik. I am Paarthurnax. Who are you? What brings you to my strunmah ... my mountain?"

For a few moments, Vara couldn't respond. The dragon before her was magnificent and obviously far older than the others that she had faced. It radiated a tired wisdom that could only come from millennia on this place of existence. Finally, Vara managed to bring her focus back to the topic at hand. "The Greybeards sent me," she explained. "I am the Dragonborn, and I need to learn a Shout that will help me defeat Alduin. Its name is Dragonrend. Do you know it?"

A light of understanding shone in the old dragon's eyes. "Drem. Patience," he said. "There are formalities that must be observed, at the first meeting of two of the dov. By long tradition, the elder speaks first. Hear my Thu'um! Feel it in your bones. Match it, if you are Dovahkiin!" Then Paarthurnax turned to the Word Wall and Shouted, a burst of flame tumbling from his mouth as he did so, rushing over the wall and leaving behind a glowing Word of Power.

Paarthurnax turned back to Vara. "Approach the Word," he said. "Feel it in your Sil, your soul."

Vara obeyed the command, walking up to the Word Wall and touching a hand to the still-glowing letters. In an instant, she felt the Word rush into her and heard it reverberate deep within her being. Yol. Fire. Then she turned back to Paarturnax.

"A gift, Dovahkiin. Yol. Understand Fire as the dov do." The dragon bowed his head, and a rush of swirling white and golden wind surrounded them both. Vara closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, allowing the ancient dragon's knowledge of the Word to fill her soul. In her mind's eye, images of fire arced through the air like graceful wings, burned villages to the ground, clashed in great dragon duels and smoldered along the earth. Then the feeling faded, and Vara opened her eyes. "Now," Paarthurnax said, "show me what you can do. Greet me not as half-elf, but as dovah!"

Vara smiled behind her mask before Shouting, letting her new Word explode into existence. Her fire breath washed over the ancient dragon, and Paarthurnax let out a deep rumble, sounding satisfied. "Your Thu'um, your Voice, is strong, Dragonborn. Now, tell me, what do you need?"

"To defeat Alduin," Vara stated, doing her best to keep the fear from her voice. In truth, she was terrified. She had read the stories, heard the tales, of Alduin, the dragon who would bring to pass the end of the world. He was a primal force, created by Akatosh himself, and Vara had to destroy him. Vara, who had only discovered her destiny as Dragonborn a few months ago.

Paarthurnax nodded slowly. "Yes. You are the Dragonborn, sent to battle Alduin and save the world. And yet some would say that all things must end so that the next can come to pass. Perhaps this world is simply the Egg of the next kalpa? Lein vokiin? Would you stop the next world from being born?" he mused.

Vara paused. Some small part of her was irritated that the old dragon was avoiding her question, but the rest of her understood on some level his need to talk with another being. He lived alone at the Throat of the World for thousands of years, and he had had nothing else to do but think. According to what the Greybeards had told her, he was Alduin's brother, and Vara couldn't blame the dragon for thinking such thoughts.

"I cannot decide what fate the Gods will bestow upon this world. If they decree that Alduin will win, then there is nothing I can do to stop him," she said after a few moments. "However, I will do what I can to save this world, even if it is in vain." And that was the truth. No matter what pain and suffering the Gods put her through, Vara would pour every ounce of her soul into fulfilling the mission she had been given because no one else could. She was the Dragonborn, and she could not sit idly by while Alduin reigned.

"A fair answer," Paarthurnax admitted. "Not even the Dov can see the Gods' plans. Unfortunately, I cannot teach you the Shout you seek. Krosis. It cannot be known to me." The old dragon bowed his head, and Vara thought she could see pain in his weathered face. "To know a Shout, one must be able to understand it. An immortal being cannot understand mortality, and that is what Dragonrend does. It was created by the Tongues of old to instill faas, fear, into the dragons and to weaken them."

At those words, Vara looked down, forcing her anger into check. All of these weeks of running around, of searching for information about the dragons, it was all for nothing! She wanted to scream her rage into the sky, but instead, she took a deep breath and asked, "Is there any way for me to learn it?"

For several moments, Paarthurnax was silent. "This is the most sacred mountain in Skyrim," he finally said. "The great mountain of the world. Here the ancient Tongues, the first mortal masters of the voice, brought Alduin to battle and defeated him." Vara nodded, having learned by now that the old dragon would get to the point soon enough. "Tiid krent. Time was… shattered here because of what the ancient Nords did to Alduin. If you brought that Kel, that Elder Scroll back here… to the Tiid-Ahraan, the Time-Wound… With the Elder Scroll that was used to break Time, you may be able to… cast yourself back. To the other end of the break. You could learn Dragonrend from those who created it."

Vara's eyes widened slightly. She had to go back in time? "Do you know where I can find an Elder Scroll?" she asked, her mind already racing with the possibilities and implications of the Time-Wound.

Paarthurnax shook his head. "I do not. Krosis. I have been removed from the world for many years. You are likely better informed than I."

"Arngeir might know. I'll ask him."

"Good. Trust your blood, it will show you the way." Vara nodded and turned away from the dragon. She was almost to the path that would lead her back down the mountain when the dragon spoke once more. "Dovahkiin," he called, causing Vara to look back over her shoulder. "Do not forget that the blood of three peoples runs through your veins. Do not deny your heritage." Before Vara could respond, Paarthurnax took to the air, causing the ground to tremble once more as he did so. For a long moment, Vara stared after him, wondering what had prompted him to say those words, before she turned away and began to make her way back to High Hrothgar once more.

Once she reached the monastery, Vara sought out Arngeir. The speaker for the Greybeards had been disappointed when she had told him that she was working with the Blades, but Vara knew that he would help her if she asked. Eventually, she found him meditating at one of the many windows. Instead of interrupting him, Vara knelt beside him and allowed her eyes to slip closed. They stayed that way for several quiet minutes, but eventually, Arngeir stood, and Vara followed suit.

"Master Arngeir," she said, bowing slightly. "Paarthurnax has told me what I need to do, but in order to learn Dragonrend, I need to find an Elder Scroll. Do you know where I could start looking?"

The Greybeard was silent for a moment, looking Vara up and down, searching for...something. Eventually, he sighed and said, "I do not know where you could find a Kel, but the College of Winterhold always seems to know of things that they shouldn't. The master of the arcanaeum there may be able to guide you." Vara nodded gratefully and was about to turn away when the Greybeard's voice stopped her.

"Be careful that you do not act too quickly, Dragonborn," he warned, his voice grave. "You are dancing among the threads of fate and destiny themselves. Do not cut a string without first understanding the larger picture it creates. Far too often, the young turn their backs on that which they do not truly understand."

Vara looked into Arngeir's eyes and saw deep regret there. "You're talking about Ulfric, aren't you?" she asked quietly. The Greybeard bowed his head.

"Ulfric Stormcloak had a gift; he had the most talented Voice I had ever seen until you arrived. And he threw that gift away and forsook the Way." Anger began to creep into Arngeir's voice now. "He threw away a gift from the Gods to go fight in a petty war. Do not let yourself become embroiled in the low things of the world, Dragonborn. You have a greater destiny than he ever will."

At those words, Vara's eyes flashed defensively. "Please," she begged, trying to reign in her emotions. "Do not speak of him that way. He made a choice, and whether or not that choice was correct is not for us to judge. He believes that he is fighting a fight that no one else is willing to. He weighed the price of his choice, and he sacrificed." Her voice grew quieter as she remembered the faraway look that Ulfric always seemed to get in his eye when he spoke of his time on High Hrothgar. "He misses this place, and I know a part of him wishes that he had never had to leave."

The monk quirked an eyebrow. "And how do you know so much about Ulfric Stormcloak? I was under the impression that he was too busy waging war to socialize." Arngeir's voice was bitter, and Vara could hear the pain in it. Even after all these years, the monk still felt the sting of what he viewed as a betrayal of his trust and guidance.

Vara looked to the side, unable to meet the Greybeard's gaze. Her relationship with Ulfric was complicated, to say the least, if she even had one after all she had done. "I was an officer in his army before I learned I was Dragonborn," she admitted. "I've listened to him talk about his days on this mountain, and I can tell you that if things were different, there would be nothing he would enjoy more than joining you here once again. But he has made his choice, just as I have made mine." She looked up, meeting Arngeir's aged gaze.

"I am the Dragonborn, and I will do what it takes to see Skyrim free, from the dragons as well as any others who would threaten her," she declared, her voice firm. "The Voice is a tool, and I will use it, however, when the day comes that it may be used solely for praising the Gods, I will welcome it gladly." With those words, she turned away from the Greybeard and began to make her way down the hall. She thought that Arngeir would call after her, warn her that that kind of thinking was against the Way of the Voice, but the monk stayed silent. After all, she was the Dragonborn, and the rules didn't quite apply.

Vara shook her head as she rounded the corner to the small room where she had been sleeping. She eyed the bed there wistfully before gathering her things and slinging her pack over her shoulder. As much as she wished she could spend another week in the monastery away from the world, she knew she had to leave. Winterhold was far, and Alduin wasn't going to wait.

. . .

A/N So, they haven't reunited yet, but a lot happened in this chapter. We have maybe two or three chapters before Vara and Ulfric meet again, and it will be interesting, to say the least. I love to hear from you, and I am very thankful to you dedicated readers who have been so patient with me. You guys make the long hours worth it!