Chapter 53: Demagogue Dreams

"I knew it," Delphine cursed, slamming her fist into the wall. "The little witch was working with them!"

The dusty shack we had met the Blade in shuddered under the impact; tiny white flecks of paint rained down from the precariously-balanced ceiling, like snowfall.

With the dossier still safe in Farkas' pack, withheld and unmentioned, I narrowed my eyes at the Blade. "You knew she wasn't their prisoner?"

"I didn't say that," Delphine shot me a dark look.

"Then you'd better tell us what you did mean," Farkas grumbled, low and deadly. "'Cause what is sounds like is you knew Celeste wouldn't find her sister in the cells, and didn't bother mentioning it."

Delphine exhaled a violent huff; the very air nearest her seemed to still and tense in caution. "Voicing my suspicions would have brought her pain and I considered it irrelevant to uncovering the origins of-"

"Bull shit!" Farkas barked, drawing a menacing step closer to her. "You sent her in there to retrieve her sister!"

"I sent her in there to investigate the rise of the dragons, for the sake of Tamriel!" Delphine admitted sharply, narrowing her eyes. "She went in after her sister."

"The Blades are supposed to serve and protect the Dragonborn," Farkas roared. "But you keep making her go into places that'll get her killed, holding back information that might stop her from making a mistake-!"

I rested a hand on Farkas' arm; the muscles were so tight that I might have been touching granite. I squeezed the unyielding bulk gently.

If I didn't intervene, they would continue talking about me as though I wasn't here, and then probably kill each other. I cared naught for Delphine, but I didn't want Farkas getting hurt on my account.

And I couldn't sing him down, not with Delphine in front of us, so I prayed that my contact would be enough to calm the beast clambering to the surface.

I turned back to face Delphine; a half step in front of my coiled but now-silent shield-brother. Why she hadn't mentioned her theory was irrelevant now that the Embassy party was behind us, though I would never forgive her for withholding it, no matter her excuses.

"What made you think Giselle was working with the Thalmor?" I asked steadily, searching for safer territory; for distractions. "Is that why you thought I might be a Thalmor spy?" I added, recalling the Horn debacle as I stole a glance Farkas' way.

He was rigid and glaring; his focus trained on Delphine. But at least his eyes stayed silvery.

"In part," Delphine conceded, her eyes on Farkas for a stern moment before the icy blue flickered to me. "But that's a story for another time. What did you -?"

"It's a story for now, or Farkas and I leave with your precious evidence," I pinned her with a flat look. "I don't care if it's nothing more than gossip you overheard in that pub you've been hiding out in. I want to know, now, what made you suspect Giselle was something other than a prisoner."

"Okay, I get it – but we can't stay here," Delphine grimly motioned toward the door. "Morthal is too-"

"With the authority that my blood gives me within your order, I command you to explain everything you know about my sister, Delphine Comtois," I cut her off cooly.

She turned to look at me as though truly for the first time; an incredulously slow, fluid motion, like she was moving through a dream. The grimness to her remained, deadlier for its lack of feeling, and at that moment I understood more about Delphine than I ever had. She didn't care about me; didn't care about the wellbeing of the Dragonborn. It was possible she didn't really care if the Passero line had mingled with the Septim's. She had never known a living Dragonborn before me, and she was not really ready for more than a pawn to control. I was alive because I was of use to her, at this point in time.

I held her gaze, ready to walk out and keep walking. If she tried to stop me, Farkas and I would fight her, and we would win. Her admission of purposefully withholding information – and not only that, of allowing me to believe my sister needed saving – was the final straw. I was tired of this riddle upon riddle that my sister had either been caught in or created, and if Delphine had any truths for me, I needed to know them, before I decided if I should leave this woman and all she was supposed to represent, forever.

"Talk," I lifted my eyebrows. "Or our acquaintance ends tonight."

"As you wish, Dragonborn," Delphine murmured. "Take a seat-"

"I'll stand, thank you."

She half-shrugged. "All the same to me," she shifted back to the dusty table she'd been sitting on when we had arrived. "I had a feeling Giselle was compromised years ago, but I was never able to get close enough to her to confirm it."

"Years-? You've known her for so long?" I blinked, confused.

"In a sense," Delphine winced, glancing down, staring at a point beyond the dirt-packed floor in the act of remembering. "We never met. Otherwise I might have recognised you when you stumbled into my inn searching for a mercenary. If I'd realised who you were, and that Farengar had sent you, I would have taken you through the Barrow myself-"

"You're getting distracted," I warned her.

"So I am," the corner of her mouth lifted into what I assumed passed for amusement. "Okay," she sighed; met my gaze with a steadiness that dared me to interrupt her again. "It began with a book. One of your ancestors wrote a very interesting book," she arched an eyebrow. "It contained a few encoded passages I couldn't read, but I refused to abandon a trail that eluded to the continuance of the Dragon blood without explicit evidence that it was false," she leaned back, crossed her arms; settled in for the tale.

Underneath my hand, Farkas' muscles relaxed – not by much, but it was enough for me to let go of the breath I'd been holding. If he was calming down – then perhaps Delphine was finally telling us a truth.

"I went to Farangar, employed him to devise a codex that might interpret it," she explained, "and I eventually traced the writer to what remained of the Passero line. Fired enquiries to one of my contacts in Solitude, wondering if your father knew anything of..." she met my gaze, under her lashes, "your family's deep, dark secret. When your profiles arrived," her widened eyes turned again to the earthen floor, and she shook her head in disbelief. "It was the closest I'd been to fulfilling my purpose for thirty years. I was so certain that Giselle was my next Dragonborn," Delphine sighed to the ceiling.

Unimpressed, I flashed Farkas a glance, but he was a statue; his eyes trained on the Blade; cold and narrowed.

"A young, brilliant mage," Delphine continued, "frustrated by the shackles of Solitude, desperate to leave and learn and discover, experimenting with her friends to push the boundaries of magic, bound to get into trouble if she didn't get proper training, and soon. Remind you of anyone?" she arched an eyebrow.

I frowned. "Should it?"

Delphine huffed; lowered her eyes again. "What are they teaching kids these days? All right," she seemed to be rolling her eyes – at herself? "Long story short, I sent Giselle a message. I wanted to meet her, start up a dialogue, before she attracted...unwanted attention. Mistake number one," she drawled.

"Why?" I let go of Farkas finally and leant against the wall, crossing my arms.

Her tone darkened. "Because I was so relieved to find her, I ignored the fact that the Thalmor were still looking for me. I don't think the message made it to her."

"The Thalmor intercepted it?" I gaped. Had everything that involved my sister somehow been this letter's – Delphine's fault? "Was it...a dangerous letter?"

"It was benign, but," Delphine closed her eyes briefly in what seemed to be genuine regret. "Look. I can only assume. I received no reply from her, and the time came for your sister to begin at the mage's college in Winterhold. I'd already arranged for her to be watched there. But," she grimaced, "my contact...never saw her."

I frowned, shaking my head. "But – she was there. I remember her starting school."

"Let me guess," Delphine clipped sourly. "You received letters from her."

"Of course, and reports from the school," I fumbled quickly, trying to recall. I hadn't been that interested in Giselle's studies, if I was honest. It had been the first time we had been separated for any length of time, and I had felt a vague sense of resentful abandonment when I had thought about her or read her letters.

"Reports from a mage named Ancano?" she asked pointedly. "Advisor to the Arch-mage, who happens to be an agent for the Thalmor?"

I had no idea who the reports had come from, and shrugged. "It happened such a long time ago," I worried my bottom lip. "Are you telling me she never attended Winterhold?"

"That is my belief," Delphine sat straighter. "She disappeared for a little over three months in fact. I intercepted her letters to your family – no. Don't look at me like that," she crossed her brows. "I was worried about her."

My eyes narrowed further. "You didn't even know her."

"And, as it eventuates, neither did you," she glanced away dismissively, "or you might have realised something was wrong," she all but accused, then continued before I could defend myself.

"Her letters confused me. It was clear she was writing them, and that she was content to have everybody believe she was in Winterhold, studying," Delphine's mouth curled downward; she had, long ago, untangled this particular riddle, and the retelling was bringing her discomfort. "She was...smart. I couldn't reason her deception at the time, or trace where the letters originated from. The school term ended and on cue, she returned to Solitude for a week," she murmured. "During that week I was contacted by an old friend via a network I hadn't used for a decade or two. Giselle had been in Windhelm," she laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "He wrote to me for what was essentially advice; said she was making claims relating to information we had unearthed together – that she was not who he had expected to find-"

"You're doing it again," Farkas cut Delphine off darkly.

Delphine stared at him, unimpressed. "Doing what?"

"Rambling vaguely," Farkas grumbled. "If you're going to say what I think you're going to say, just say it."

"And you have the nerve to call me vague," Delphine muttered in a scathing tone. "I am not in the habit of explaining the past," she glanced back to me.

"Get used to it," I steeled myself, though I had a sickening feeling I knew who it was who had written to the Blade about Giselle. "Start with the name of this friend in Windhelm."

"Isn't it obvious?" Delphine drawled. "Ulfric Stormcloak."

"I see," I had thought correctly, but still; a roaring filled my ears as anger shot through me; my hands clenched into fists. "And how is it that you came to call him friend?" I managed.

Delphine half-shrugged again. "Friend might be too strong a term. Before you were born, my search for the Dragon blood led me to Hrothgar, where Ulfric was studying the Way of the Voice," her faraway smirk sent a shudder through me. "I studied with him for a short time, conducting my own research from the Greybeards' library. Was where I found the book your ancestor wrote, actually."

"No – wait," I had to cut in again. "The Greybeards let you study at High Hrothgar?!" my head spun. "Do...you know how to Shout?"

She shot me a warning glance. "How do you think I got the Horn? Any with the discipline to ascend and remain may be tested and accepted by the Greybeards. Us mere mortals can't learn a Shout in a single breath, but you've seen Ulfric use his Voice. Did you think he was the only person in Skyrim who had ever studied with them?"

"Of course not," I frowned at her – though I couldn't imagine this stern, calculating woman taking lessons from the steady, kindly Master Arngeir at all, and made a mental note to ask him about her when I returned.

"Shall I continue?" she asked with a hint of mocking. "Or do you require a demonstration?"

I shot her a look; one that made her glance away with a small, victorious smirk.

"Yes, for some months, Ulfric and I were what you could call colleagues, before the war called us away and put my research on hold," she picked up. "He has a mind made for strategy, and I had him put it to what I sought. Over time, his devotion to Talos made me feel I could trust him," she shook her head at herself. "Mistake number two. You must understand, I had been running for so long, hadn't trusted anybody for so long," she shuffled uncomfortably, reconsidering. "I told him everything about my quest to find where the Septim line had been hidden after the Oblivion Crisis."

So this is how he claims to know why I've become Dragonborn, I wondered?

"And, he surprised me." Delphine sighed with a pleading glance to the ceiling. "He was on board with my investigations; so willing and ready to help. But of course, it was for his own design."

"Design?" Farkas drawled.

Delphine's eyes lowered and irises clouded with memories. "He is not a man to do anything by halves – and never has been. A living Septim was almost as good as having Talos Himself by his side."

Farkas made an unimpressed hmph sound, and I checked him briefly. Was he reacting to the name Septim? My shield-brother's silvery gaze was still locked on the Blade, and he still looked as though he wanted to tear her arms off. Perhaps the connection hadn't surprised him; perhaps he had made it for himself on our journey to Hrothgar after all, during that exasperating conversation we hadn't had about Tiber Septim.

Or perhaps it truly didn't matter to him whose blood flowed through my veins.

"Okay," I tried to focus on what I wanted to know; we were getting off track again. "Giselle disappeared for a couple of months and then turned up on Ulfric's doorstep, saying that she was...what, exactly?" I felt the need to clarify. "The lost and rightful Empress of Tamriel, come to help him liberate Skyrim?"

"I wish I could show you his letter, but I burned it after I read it." Delphine continued. "Ulfric didn't mention how long she had been at the Palace of the Kings; only that she had been there."

"Were they together at this point?"

Delphine threw me a baleful glance. "Why should that matter?" she fired.

"Don't you dare raise your voice to her," Farkas growled. "If Celeste asks you a question, you answer it."

"For the love of-! Whether they were sleeping together or not during those three months – it was a detail he deemed not worth documenting," she spat. "What I do know is that they shared several private conversations. Whether those conversations were conducted in a war room or post-coitus is utterly irrelevant!"

"All right!" I hissed. "You've made your point. What did she tell him?"

"That she had dreamed of their alliance," Delphine's tone evened out and she grimaced.

"Dreamed?" I spluttered.

"She told him she has the Septim's gift of foresight," Delphine added swiftly. "That she had experienced," the Blade searched, waving her hand, "nightmares, she had thought – fire and bloodshed – dreams that linked Septim and Stormcloak, and that only together might they hope to free and unify Skyrim with Cyrodiil, and throw off their Thalmor oppressors."

"And he believed her?" Farkas scoffed.

"She was playing him?" I cut in quickly. Prior to the Embassy party I would not have believed Giselle capable of convincing anyone of anything, but now...well. Perhaps she had been able to persuade Stormcloak of a certain legitimacy. "She knew of his time at Hrothgar, and told him exactly what he wanted to hear?"

"Ulfric wasn't sure," Delphine shrugged. "I think he wanted to believe her, but – look, normal, rational people do not write of their feelings all the time," she shot me an annoyed look. "He stated the facts, of what they had spoken of, and simply wanted me to confirm her story, before she returned."

"Did you?"

"I didn't reply."

"What?"

"I couldn't," Delphine defended quickly. "It was too risky, and there was a chance his letter might have been bait intended to trap me. Ulfric was a fool for writing of it to begin with, but he was taken by – well," she flickered me a look. "What did you say? Exactly what he wanted to hear."

My jaw locked in frustration as I stared at the woman. "You believe my sister was intercepted on her way to Winterhold, was convinced to work for the Thalmor, then went to Stormcloak to ensnare him?"

"That's the theory," she smirked. "We're lucky the Divines have a sense of humour. If she had been made Dragonborn after all, there's a chance we'd all be calling her Empress, now. Or be dead," she considered with a tilt to her head.

"How fortunate," I posed through narrowed eyes, "that my profile was boring, or the Thalmor might have seen fit to abduct me."

"Precisely," Delphine completely missed the point of my accusation. "So, Dragonborn," she all but mocked, "are you satisfied? Can we go back to saving the world or-?"

"The Thalmor aren't responsible for Alduin," I cut in blithely. There were still gaps – large ones – in my sister's past, but I had drawn enough from Delphine to mull over for a long while.

Delphine squinted. "What did you discover, precisely?"

"How did you put it?" I motioned toward my shield-brother. "A very interesting book."

He shot me a sideways glance; you sure about this?

I nodded, trying to suppress a smirk, and felt Delphine's gaze flicker impatiently between us.

Farkas returned the smile and swung the pack down onto the dusty table-top with a thud. With a fastidiousness I'd not thought him capable of, Farkas extracted the contents one piece at a time, laying each item carefully down next to the other. I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing at him – or rather, Delphine's irritation.

At about the tenth item in, Farkas stood tall. His features blank, he stared at a swathe of tan fabric in his fist; Hadvar's tunic. "Oh," he chuckled, replacing it carefully with a lopsided smile. "Wrong pack."

"Ugh!" Delphine roared, throwing her hands in the air. "Is the fate of Nirn a joke to you-?"

"Fate of the Dragonborn seems to be a joke to you," he muttered; his shoulder rolled dismissively. "Maybe I'll find it faster if you tell Celeste who Esbern is," he met her glare with his own, "and why Giselle risked so much to save him."

The Blade's expression fell; her face paled. "She...they...?" she swallowed; her eyes, suddenly bizarrely uncertain, found mine. "Did you see him?" she whispered. "He's alive?"

"Who is he?" I asked, speculating her reaction.

The Blade settled against the table, her eyes trained on her shaking hands, and beyond. "One of our number. A Blade, I mean," she confirmed, closing her eyes.

I frowned at Farkas; Delphine took a controlled breath, then continued.

"An archivist, but during the War-" the icy-blue lifted with a flicker of imploring, but her tone was as hard as ever; "Where is he?"

"Hiding out in Riften. How is it that Giselle knows he's alive if you don't?" I was tired of giving Delphine information for free; she could figure out exactly where in Riften for herself.

Delphine closed her eyes; her hands closed into fists. "How indeed?" she murmured regretfully. "I can only assume Ulfric is the answer."

"How would Ulfric-?"

"Do I look like I have that information?" Delphine bit out with a curse. "If she was with the Thalmor, she would not be trying to save Esbern. Unless it was another elaborate trap," she hissed, clenching her fists.

"Okay," I breathed weightily, settling against the table for myself and accepting the dossier as Farkas handed it over. "Here," I passed it to her, before we became distracted by yet another mystery wrapped in paranoid hunches. "This is proof that your theory about the dragons is wrong."

Spots of colour returned to Delphine's cheeks as she stared at the title page. "How did you manage to extract this?"

"Not important," I murmured; I didn't want her thinking Hadvar would aid her in her personal quest to incriminate the Thalmor for whatever was wrong with the world. I pushed off the table; turned to face her, too weary of her to stay and witness her reaction to the contents after all. "Good bye, Delphine."

Her focus was on the document. "Mm. Do what you have to do," she didn't bother looking up. "I know where to find you, when I need you," she murmured, distracted.

"Right," I rolled my eyes. Truthfully, I was not surprised.

Farkas' heavy footfalls followed me out of the abandoned shack. He closed the door, and we'd not taken two steps across the frost-bitten spiny grass when there came a resounding thump; a fist, meeting the precarious wall. The Blade's voice was loud enough that she might have been standing beside me; a furious, incredulous, "What?"

I glanced to my shield-brother and his satisfied smirk undid me. Despite Delphine's convenient web of lies and all she had revealed in order to gain the dossier, I found myself laughing quietly, suddenly giddy that our time with the deceptive woman was finally over.

Because yes – she could find me at Hrothgar if she believed that I was necessary to her endeavours. But I didn't owe her anything, and would not have her drag or send me anywhere again.

Farkas and I walked in companionable relief to where we had left Misty and Patch, smiles wide as we mounted up and directed our horses toward Whiterun. We had families and friends to visit before we returned the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller to the Greybeards and got back to my training. When I allowed myself to think about the Greybeards, I realised I was actually looking forward to talking with Master Arngeir about what my journey to locate the Horn had revealed to me about my purpose.

And as for my sister? For all her faults, I had to acknowledge that she was capable of taking care of herself. I was confused by her motives and true allegiance – and baffled by what she had told Stormcloak and why he, a man of absolutes and strategy, had believed her, a teenager claiming dreams of destiny. But whatever Giselle's game was, she was not defenceless, and I could leave her in the Embassy without feeling a weight of guilt that I was abandoning her.

The eastern horizon was pink, and the thin, shadowed clouds were lined with bright, warm gold. My smile turned bittersweet. Hadvar was out there, looking at the same dawn, calculating when to lead his team into an enemy fort. We had my sister to thank for those lives he was about to save, too.

A silent, snowy owl whisked across the lightening sky; effortlessly weightless.

Giselle has been instrumental in securing the information you have come for tonight.

The owl suddenly darted down at a steep angle, in pursuit of one final meal before the sun rose.

My heart clenched in fear and I gasped in a lungful of frozen air. "No!" was all I could choke.

"Hmm?" came the immediate reply from Farkas.

Misty protested with a rude snort as I tugged on the reigns and drew her to a halt, only to turn her back along the path we had been travelling along. I had seen a signpost for Windhelm a little way back. "It's a trap!"

"What's a trap?" he called, kicking his horse into action. "Celeste?"

"If Giselle is a spy for Stormcloak, then they will know what she told the Thalmor about Fort Kastav," I called back hurriedly. "Hadvar and his people are being set up!"

"Slow down!" Farkas ordered, reaching for my horse's reigns as he drew up beside me. With a mighty tug, he stopped both of our horses in their tracks. I threw my arms around Misty's neck as the horse reared up in frustration.

"You trying to get yourself killed?" Farkas boomed, throwing my reigns toward me. The leather hit me on my arm, but I barely felt it.

"No," I clipped, fumbling for them, but I let the horse find her footing. "I'm trying to save him!"

"You can't just – run off like that!" he fired, whipping his disarrayed black mop out of his face with a frustrated shake. "Hadvar knows what he's doing. Give him a little credit."

Slamming my eyes shut, I reigned back my response; took a deep breath. "I trust him, Farkas," I exhaled sharply, meeting his gaze steadily. "I do not trust her," I grated; my eyes narrowed to slits.

Farkas' anger softened into what appeared to be sympathy. "He probably already thinks it's a trap, after all you went through at the Embassy."

"No," I shook my head, determined. "He doesn't know all we now know. Hadvar would not put lives at risk like that if he did."

"Okay, sister," Farkas passed a stamina potion to me. "You've had a long night and no sleep. But, you call the shots, so – have a think first, then tell me if we turn east?"

Uncorking the little green bottle with a pop, I nodded. "I must get a warning to him," I murmured, watching the glorious dawn unfold as I upended the bottle; swallowed the thick liquid with barely a grimace. I was growing used to the taste, and I wasn't sure if I should be settled or concerned by that.

As I finished the bottle and took a moment to catch my breaths, errant thoughts tried to dissuade me from interfering in Hadvar's mission. I would be a hinderance; I would definitely blow his cover. It would be a stealth operation; none of my Shouts could help (could they?) and Hadvar was more than capable of facing whatever the Stormcloaks threw at them with the team he'd been assigned. I was worried about the unknowns; the what ifs.

After a pause, Farkas let out a low chuckle. "All right already. Stop your bellyaching. I'll go."

"This isn't bellyaching," I arched an eyebrow. "And – what?"

He smirked. "I can make it to Fort Kastav faster on my own. Make sure...nobody's sneaking up on them," he outlined.

Anxiety twisted my belly; I stuttered a confused laugh. "But – what about Whiterun-" I uttered.

"Morthal's not far – hire someone to take you to Whiterun from there."

"But – I need to get back to Hrothgar, I can't stay in Whiterun-"

"'Course not," he butted in. "Get Vilkas to go to Hrothgar. He can take a turn watching your back. I can watch Hadvar's for a bit. Keep him company, til he gets sick of me," he shrugged. "He carries a lot of loneliness 'round with him, you know?"

A sharp ache filled my chest, tightening at the casual acknowledgement, doubled by the thought of Farkas suddenly leaving me. "Yeah. I know," I whispered.

Why would he offer such a thing? Did the bond between our inner demons extend to Hadvar somehow – no, that didn't make any sense. Perhaps Hadvar had earned my shield-brother's loyalty for handling the Embassy debacle with such aplomb. And yes, I had asked Vilkas to watch over Hadvar in the past but the circumstances had been different – Hadvar didn't know about their curse and would never understand why Farkas was dogging his every move, unless my shield brother became a soldier. The idea of Farkas joining the Legion was ridiculous – and with Hadvar on special assignments that put him on solo missions, it simply wouldn't work.

While my head spun, I managed a quiet, "You aren't serious, are you?"

"We're family." With an easy, sideways smile, Farkas added openly, "What good is family if we can't look out for each other?"

If I could have hugged him without falling off my horse I would have. I settled for a tearful laugh. "He wouldn't want anyone to join the Imperials on his account."

"Eh?" he shot me a confused look. "Who said anything about joining the army?"

"Okay, then," I hurriedly added, "Yes, I want him safe. But I don't want you to go."

"Can't have it both ways," Farkas shrugged. "Think about it like this; High Hrothgar is more Vilkas' scene," he tilted me a small smile.

"Is that what this is?" I laughed, while deep within, a tension uncoiled. "Your resignation? Hadvar's life of adventure is so much better than mine?" I teased.

"There'll be more ale where Hadvar's headed," he admitted with a grin.

Bemused, I shook my head. It was almost impossible to let grimness settle in with Farkas nearby, but the ready mirth sobered. "What about the Companions?" I asked quietly. "They need their Harbinger."

"Yeah," Farkas drawled, turning his eyes back to the road. "But she's gallivanting around Skyrim, isn't she?"

"I'm not-"

"Aela'll cover Vilkas," he cut in with a laugh, reaching over to ruffle my hair. "C'mon, Celeste. Imagine him in that library, huh? He'd love it."

Leaning out of reach and swatting him away, I finally understood why he might have offered – and why he seemed to have thought out all of the problems I might bring up. As ever; it wasn't all about me, or my wants and needs, and the reminder relieved and steadied me.

"You're worried about him?"

"I always worry about him," Farkas glanced toward the horizon. "It's...his turn. With you, I mean. Only fair."

"Won't you suffer?" I asked gently.

"Nah," Farkas grinned at the road. "I've got a better hold on it than Vilkas. Always did have."

Not recently, I thought, but kept to myself with a frown. "If this is what you want, I won't say no. But...Vilkas might. And," biting my bottom lip in worry, I added, "Hadvar's not going to be happy about you leaving me in Morthal."

"Yeah," Farkas chuckled fondly. "Reckon they both might have a thing or two to say about it, but they'll get over it. We should probably make it sound like it was your idea."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever you think is best, brother."

There was a pause, where Farkas cocked his head and waited.

I lifted my eyebrows at him expectantly. "What?"

"Wow," Farkas finally admitted with a chuckle. "That was easier than I thought it'd be."

"What was?"

He shot me a knowing sideways look, then cracked a smile. "C'mon. There's a road in the valley that forks close to Morthal. I'll take you there first."

"Lead the way."

I matched the pace Farkas set, and for a time, we rode in silence. The road widened and the clumped ice either side eventually browned to mush as the marshy land surrounding Morthal flattened.

My mind ticked over this latest development; for a time, Farkas would look out for my Hadvar, if I would look after his brother. I could live with that. These extraordinary people who I had known for only a few months were all essential to my life; their happiness and safety, essential to mine. Hadvar was my home, the centre around which I circled, but Farkas and Vilkas, Lydia and Sigrid were part of it too; the foundations, without which I might quake and topple. And what Farkas had said was right; we had to look out for each other. Not everything and everyone had to revolve around my Dragonborn duties.

Morthal was shrouded in morning mist with the tops of the tiled roofs visible, but mirage-like. The sight brought the realisation crashing down; my shield-brother and I would be parting at any moment, and I would be walking into this hazy village on my own.

"Thanks, by the way," I broke the silence hastily, rallying my courage. Farkas turned with questions in his eyes, and I gave him a small, grateful smile. "I will feel better knowing that you are watching out for Hadvar. And it will be good to give Vilkas a...reprieve," I added thoughtfully.

Farkas clearly picked up something of my prior musings. "Now you're getting it."

We drew our horses to a halt at the fork where we would part. 'Getting it' didn't make saying good bye to Farkas any easier, and once we had dismounted, I choked out my regret at not being able to play my repaired lute for him after all.

"Yeah, shame to miss that," Farkas sighed, then hesitated. "Can Hadvar sing?" he turned, heaving down my pack and lute from Patch, and securing it to the back of Misty.

A bubble of laughter left me and I looked down to blink back unshed tears. "Ask him yourself. What are you going to say to him, anyway?" I cleared my throat.

"Easy," Farkas tightened the saddle straps with a gentle tug, then reached into his own bag; dug about for a moment. "The truth. With Giselle's allegiance uncertain, it's possible she was setting him up, and might keep trying to set him up."

"Highly possible, given what happened between them at Korvanjund," I murmured, glancing to the eastern horizon. Not to mention our own animosity...

"Mm," Farkas confirmed, facing me and holding his arms open. "Better go."

I fell into him and tried to breathe as he crushed me into a hug. "Thank you," I squeaked.

"Thank you. 'm gonna miss you, sister," he grumbled, pulling back; large hands still on my shoulders, and holding a sheaf of papers.

"Same," I stared up and tried to smile when I met his silvery eyes, nodding to what was unmistakably his letter to his brother. "Want me to give him that?" I sniffed.

Farkas nodded, handing it over. "Don't let Vilkas give you a hard time about this."

"I won't."

"And – straight to the inn, okay? Called the Moorside, I think. You should be able to hire some muscle there."

"Okay."

"But don't pay them in advance. Half now, half when you reach Whiterun."

"Farkas," I stalled him with a gentle laugh. "I'll be fine."

"You'd better be," he grumbled as he tousled my hair.

"Get off!" I swatted again.

He mounted up, smiling gently, and made a soft clicking sound as he turned his horse away and angled toward the sun.

I watched on with a surreal sense of disconnect, squinting against the sudden glare as my amusement waned. It had happened so quickly; one minute we had been laughing in relief over the state we had left Delphine in and then...now, we were saying good bye.

Farkas can only make sure Fort Kastav isn't a trap if he gets there in time.

Yes, I nodded to myself, lifting a hand as Farkas turned back and lifted his from the top of the crest that would part us. Farkas had to go at once, or not at all.

Once I could no longer see him, I secured his unfinished letter in my bag, then turned and walked my horse toward Morthal. I wasn't tired – the stamina potion had taken care of my fatigue for now – but I still felt drained.

The quiet, foggy township only enhanced the feeling, and for a time the world echoed my mood. There had been so much action for the past few days – and it was suddenly over; I was suddenly alone.

It's not over. Get to Whiterun, go back to High Hrothgar. Time to be the Dragonborn.

My eyes widened at the task ahead – the conversation I would need to have in a day or two. Master Arngeir and I needed to have a long chat about my true purpose and then – well. Perhaps then, my real Dragonborn training would begin.