Zelda had tried again and again to justify their reasons for being there, at the scene of the fight.

"We were looking for help," she said. "We're travelers from a faraway land, and we have no idea where we are."

"Likely story," said a red-clad guard as both she and Link were bound and shoved into the back of a wagon. As the carriage began to roll down the road, she continued pleading their case. She only stopped when another guard threatened to "give her the same treatment as Ulfric". She felt a shoulder nudge her and saw Link casting her a look of resignation. They won't listen, she inwardly cried.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled. Link shook his head and gave her a sad smile. There's nothing we can do about it, he seemed to say, and it's not your fault.

It probably had not helped that they were wearing blue, much like the other soldiers that had been captured. And, even though they were both young, they were both old enough to wield weapons. The moment they had been arrested, Zelda's dagger had been seized as well as Link's sword and shield. She had tried to convince him to leave the weapons at the castle; he would not need to use them at the excavation site. But, true to form, he had brought them, just in case danger decided to arise. When they first came to this land, Zelda was glad he had his gear. At any rate, both the sword and her dagger could be used to hunt for game if they needed to. Now, she bitterly thought, they're both useless.

The good news about the carriage ride was that they were clearly heading somewhere. The bad news was that "somewhere" couldn't be good. The company was met at a fork in the road by an entourage of strange people. Despite their current situation, Zelda stared with curiosity. The newcomers appeared to be Hylians, only taller and with more distinctive features. Each member of the group was marked with gold-tinted skin that glimmered in the torchlight; and every member but the leader wore green armor styled to look like large leaves.

"Altmer. Elves," came a soft voice across from her. Zelda risked a glance at the prisoner who had spoken. Like his leader, he too had a strong build with blond hair over a sturdy face. This man only had one braid though, and it looked to be unwashed and falling out. He was studying her and Link. "This is your first time seeing them, I'm guessing."

"You believe us?" she whispered.

"Well, you definitely aren't one of ours. And, if the Legion doesn't recognize you, you can't be one of theirs." It didn't make much of a difference if the officers holding them captive didn't believe her; but Zelda found herself smiling all the same.

"Zelda of Hyrule," she introduced herself. "This is my Champion Swordsman, Link." She nodded towards her companion, who silently acknowledged the speaker.

"Ralof of Riverwood," he said. "It's a shame we have to meet in such unfortunate circumstances."

"Where are they taking us?" asked Link. Ralof shrugged and risked a glance at the… What did he call them? Zelda thought. Elves?

"Originally, we might have been taken to one of the nearby forts and kept simply as prisoners," he said. "Now that the Thalmor are involved though, who knows?"

"The Thalmor?" asked Zelda.

"Those pointy-eared… my apologies, lass. I shouldn't use such language around a young lady. Anyways, that's another name for the elves, or at least for this particular group." He inclined his head towards the woman in the lead. "That there is Elenwen – First Emissary to Skyrim. Carved to perfection in terms of looks, but ruthless in character." The princess saw what he meant: Elenwen's face was smooth and unblemished, without a single scar or spot to mar her golden features; but this beauty was ruined by the sneer that twisted her lips, as well as the cruel glint in her golden eyes.

The Emissary and woman in steel armor talked softly for a few minutes, during which time, the three prisoners didn't speak. What are you discussing? Zelda demanded.

What seemed like ages later, the Elves departed and the carriage turned to the left. Ralof groaned. "What is it?" asked Zelda.

"The fort would have been down the other road," he said. "That can't be good." He looked at the two of them and exhaled. "You said you were from Hyrule? I've never heard of the place. I don't know what gods you worship, but you'd best start praying to them."

"What for?"

"We've been chosen to set an example for the others," he said simply. Now, he bowed his head and closed his eyes. "Sovngarde awaits."

She did not like the sound of that.

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Aryll had trouble sleeping the night before. At the very least, she was still awake when Gwilin finally went to sleep, and he had stayed up for hours listening to the chatter of the inn's other guests. The good news was that she had eventually passed out, because he was now shaking her awake.

The bad news was that she was not waking quick enough.

"Gwilin. Boy." The elf had awoken to Klimmek crouching next to him.

"Ungh," groaned the elf. "Is it morning already?"

"Wake my girl. We need to leave now." The Nord hurriedly left the room without another word. Gwilin could only assume with a warning like that, he was probably going to retrieve Gladwen. But, why the rush? he wondered.

He silently followed Klimmek down the steps until he could peer through the inn's open door. At the sight ahead of him, he gulped. Outside were a mix of soldiers, some dressed in red and silver, and some dressed in green and gold. In front of the tower where Ri'saad and his company had sold their wares only a day before, a humanoid figure in a black hood was sharpening…

He ran back upstairs and started to shake Aryll's shoulder.

"Ary, get up!"

"The snake," she mumbled and turned over. "Masser's dark."

"Ary, please. We have to leave."

"Five more minutes."

"Aryll – wake up." When she wouldn't respond, Gwilin sighed and retrieved the pitcher of water sitting on the room's table. Without hesitation, he emptied its contents onto Aryll's head.

"SPLURGH!" The girl sat up and immediately raised her fists. "WHAT IN OBLIVION…? WHO DID THAT?!"

"Klimmek's getting the cart together," Gwilin said. "We're leaving. Now. Hurry." He set the jug back on the table with a "thunk" and began making his way downstairs, hoping that Aryll would follow. Thankfully, she was at a very quick pace. In any other situation, she probably would have done so with a look of fury across her face; but maybe the urgent tone in his voice had convinced her that now was not the time to be petty.

She did freeze in the doorway, and Gwilin grabbed her hand to pull her towards the carriage.

"Don't stop," he said.

"What's going on?"

"Something ugly. But, it doesn't matter, because we won't be here for it. Come on." He kept pulling, but she wouldn't budge. "We. Have. To. Go," he grunted.

"You said nothing happened in Helgen," she said.

"Yeah? I was wrong. Let's go." She actually yanked her hand away and, to his surprise, glared at him.

"You said nothing would happen," she repeated. Gwilin wanted to argue, but there was something in her eyes that he couldn't understand: she wasn't just angry. The look she now gave him was a look of betrayal, as if this wasn't the first time someone had made this promise to her. I didn't know, he wanted to say. How could I have known? But that expression kept him silent. "I never should have come here," she said at last.

"Well, you are here. So, unless you want to see what happens next, you'll help us get out of Helgen." It sounded insensitive, but there wasn't time to explain this gently. The people of Ivarstead were lucky enough to live a life without the threat of death looming over them. Of course, Aryll had never witnessed an execution. Gwilin most certainly hadn't. He knew what Klimmek was doing – it was the same thing his own father had done when a crowd gathered around an axeman in the Windhelm square. "Come on." Aryll finally snapped out of it and was about to climb into the wagon when a loud braying was heard.

"EASY!" Klimmek was shouting. Both youth went to join him at the stables, where he was trying in vain to calm the horse before hitching him to the wagon. "I don't understand," he said. "He's only gotten worse."

"Maybe he'll feel better once he's out," Aryll said, as she ushered both her guardian and Gwilin to the side and opened the gate. It wasn't open all the way when Gladwen burst out and bolted past the guards, past the inn, past the approaching wagon full of prisoners – all Stormcloak by the look of them – and out through the town's entrance into the wilderness.

The trio stood in stunned silence.

"That's the fastest I've ever seen him run," Klimmek said at last. Gwilin did not like the look on Aryll's face – it was some kind of a cross between terror and absolute defeat.

"Forget the wagon," she said. "We'll follow the road by foot."

"Woah, hold up. What do you mean, 'Leave the wagon'? We have trade goods in there. Wilhelm won't be happy if we return empty-handed."

"I'd rather be empty-handed and safe than stay here," Aryll said.

"What are you talking about?" Gwilin asked. "We aren't the ones being executed."

"The execution isn't all we have to worry about," she said. "We are out of time." She said these words directly to Gwilin, and he remembered how concerned she had looked the night before.

Klimmek looked between them.

"Would one of you explain what that means?" he asked.

"Ary thinks something bad is about to happen," Gwilin said before Aryll could respond. "Something about Nirn holding its breath and then beginning to tremor. It had to do with Gladwen making a scene last night."

"Is this why you wanted to leave so badly?" said the Nord. Aryll slowly nodded her head. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have listened."

"Because you were both so insistent that we stay here for the night," she said, "and because I hoped that, somehow, I would be wrong." No one answered this. Then finally, Klimmek shut the stable door and put his hand on the girl's shoulder.

"The executions will start before we have a chance to leave," he said. "Go back to the inn with Gwilin and stay there until I come for you. We can set out then."

"But…"

"I can't have you see any of this," he said. "You might be grown up, but you're still my little girl. Go inside, please, and don't come out."

"I don't care if I see. I just want to get out of here with both of you."

"I promise that we'll leave as soon as this is over," he said. "I promise. Go with Gwilin."

"Come on, Ary. Let's go," Gwilin said. She did not look any more reassured than before; in fact, she looked even more desperate. But, she reluctantly began following Gwilin back to the Helgen Homestead. The carriage from before had come to a halt in the town square, and an Imperial official stood waiting with a scroll in his hands. He heard one of the Stormcloaks mutter something about the Empire's lists right before the officer began reading names.

"Ralof of Riverwood," the voice droned. "Lokir of Rorikstead…"

He wished he had gotten Aryll to the inn sooner.

"NO! WE'RE NOT REBELS! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" screamed the prisoner as he attempted to sprint to freedom.

"Keep your eyes on the inn," Gwilin warned as he covered her ears with his hands. Aryll stiffened but didn't fight back. He refused to uncover them until the fatal arrow had been shot and the escapee had stopped groaning.

"Anyone else feel like running?" demanded an armored woman – Legate Rikke, he thought, the name familiar to all of Skyrim's citizens. Aryll had gone pale; she did not have to see the corpse lying fifty feet away to know what had happened.

"They…" she stammered.

"We're almost there," said Gwilin, now taking the lead. "Come on."

"You," the official with the list was saying, "step forward. Who are you?" From here, the Bosmer tried to shut out all of his surroundings so he could focus on Aryll.

"We'll sit by the fire and just wait this out," he said, not looking back. "It'll be over soon, and then we can leave. You'll see." He swung the Homestead's door open and turned.

But, Aryll had disappeared.

"Ary?" He swiveled frantically. By now, the prisoners began gathering around the axeman, waiting for their turn at the block.

And rushing over to them as fast as she could in a corseted dress was Aryll.

"Oh no." He sprinted to intercept her. "Ary, stop!"

"Miss, you can't come any closer," said the official with the list. Guards gathered in front of the girl just as Gwilin caught up.

"That couple," she gasped for breath, "the ones not on the list. You can't kill them."

"What are you doing?" Gwilin mumbled.

"Please – you can't kill them."

"They were discovered at a Stormcloak camp," said the official. "What do you expect us to do with them?"

"Just keep them prisoners or something? But please don't let them be executed."

"Ary, we should go," said Gwilin. He tried to reach for her hand, but the girl shook it away.

"How much?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry?" The officer was taken aback.

"We participated in Market Day yesterday," she said. "How much would it cost for you to not kill them? You can have everything – every septim, fur, leftover crop. Just tell me what it would take to keep them alive."

"This is an execution, not an auction," commented one of the guards.

"Ary, I know how you feel about this," said Gwilin, "but there's nothing we can do."

"You don't understand," she said to all of them. "Please: you don't understand. They're not criminals. I know them." She said this with so much conviction and desperation that the official's expression softened. He motioned for the guards to lower their weapons.

"I'll see what can be done," he said. He then hurried to the block and said something to Rikke. "Axeman, hold," the woman commanded. From where they stood, Gwilin could hear nothing but soft mumbling as the Imperials held a discussion between themselves. A lump formed in his stomach when he heard the legate call for the execution to resume.

"No," Aryll muttered. To his dismay, she pushed past the guards and through the crowd of prisoners. Gwilin was about to follow when a monstrous groan filled the air.

What was that?

"Who are you?" Rikke was demanding. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I'll go." That was when Gwilin's limbs acted on their own will. One minute, he was standing outside the circle, the next he was entering the space in front of the tower.

His eyes widened when he saw Aryll kneeling by the next prisoner at the block, a boy in a blue tunic.

"I'll go instead," she was saying. "I'll go. You can kill me in his place, his and hers."

"NO!" This outburst had gained Klimmek's full attention, and now he came pushing through the crowd. "ARYLL, STOP!"

"Aryll?" When Gwilin looked to the next prisoner in line, a girl the same age as the one on the block, he was surprised to see a look of recognition and shock.

For her part, Legate Rikke had no idea what to do now. Her head turned from Aryll, to the prisoners, to the officer, to Gwilin, to Klimmek, and back. She took a deep breath and prepared to speak.

Gwilin would never know what she was about to say, because just then a large, dark shadow crunched onto the top of the tower, casting a looming shadow over the square. He slowly raised his head towards the scaly, black snout pointed towards them with red eyes glowing at the other end.

"DRAGON!" someone screamed. On instinct, Gwilin dove towards the prisoner in line and shoved her to the ground, just in time for the giant stream of flame to blast its way through Helgen.

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Someone was sawing at Link's bonds.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Setting you free! What does it look like?!" He recognized the voice to be from the woman before, the one who had volunteered to take his and Zelda's place. He felt the rope snap, and the woman pulling him to a stand. "Gwilin has your friend covered. We have to get out of here."

"LINK!" Zelda called, waving to him. Thankfully, she was also unbound, and unharmed by the dragon fire. The elf who had helped her sheathed his dagger and looked directly at the woman.

"Tremor?" he asked simply. His voice had a forced steadiness to it, as if he was using every bit of his energy to keep calm.

"Tremor," answered the woman.

"Tell me what to do."

"Get these two to safety. I saw a cave on the way in. It will hold a lot longer than Helgen's fort."

"What will you do?" Zelda asked.

"I'll try to get its attention," the woman said. "If I can hold it for even a minute, that should be enough time for you to escape. And Gwilin? If you see Klimmek…"

"I'll make sure he's safe," promised Gwilin.

"Good. Now go."

"But, we can't just…" stammered Link.

"Go!" She shoved him towards Zelda and Gwilin and raised her head to the sky. "Dovahfeh!" she screamed. "Grah a' dii!"

"You heard her," Gwilin said. "Let's move." Link did as he was told, though he was not happy about it. He was always used to saving others, not others saving him. For some reason, it felt wrong.

"What's going to happen to her?" he asked.

"Honestly, I don't think she cares."

"Don't you?"

"Of course. But…" Gwilin paused before pulling Link and Zelda behind a wall in time for another blast of dragon fire. "She tried to warn us twice, and we didn't listen. The least I can do is listen to her now."

"We can't just let her fight the dragon on her own!" Zelda said.

"She has a way to defend herself, supposedly. We don't have the means to fight alongside her. At the very least, I don't." At that moment, Link caught sight of a charred wagon wheel. The force of that blast had burst the prisoners' carriage into pieces, all of which were scattered across the town. When those soldiers in red had seized their gear, they had stored it in a compartment between the wagon's wheels.

Maybe you don't, he thought, an idea forming in his mind, but I do. He could see a stone watchtower still standing in the flames and carnage.

"Go on without me," he said before sprinting towards the structure. He could hear both Gwilin and Zelda calling after him, but he did not stop. He dove through the door just as Ralof was beginning to shut it.

"Glad you could make it… where are you going?" Link did not even give Ralof time to complete his welcome. He bolted up the steps, knowing that a watchtower should have a door in the top to reach the roof.

The good news: he had been right. The bad news was that as he neared the top, a scaly, spiky object came crashing through the stone, demolishing the outer wall and the last section of stairwell. Link leaped out of the way just in time for the dragon to throw another blast of fire. He waited for it to fly off, then pulled the neckline of his tunic over his mouth and pressed forward. The air around him was beyond hot now, but he would have to just ignore it, no matter how difficult that might be.

Now that there was a large hole to the outside, Link reached for the outside surface of what remained of the wall. His fingers were automatically seared, and he pulled them back.

I can do this, he assured himself. I just need to be quick. He reached again and began climbing up to the roof as fast as he could. His hands reddened and burned with every effort, but he eventually made it. Now, he looked over the town for any sign of his shield and the Master Sword. To his dismay, he saw no sign of the latter, which usually called to him if they were separated.

He did, however, see his shield wedged in the far end of the building next to him, way at the bottom of the rubble where a stone hearth used to be.

"That'll have to do," he muttered. He backed up, then ran and jumped off of the tower onto the roof below. Upon impact, the roof began to crumble; but Link outran the destruction until he reached his approximate destination. Then, he fell to the floor, yanked his shield from the ash and piles of rock, and rolled out through the doorway in time for the rest of the roof to cave in.

Man, I wish Zelda had seen that, he thought with a grin as he examined his shield and strapped it to his arm. That was epic. The burning, not so much; but that last part… He looked around to reorient himself. He was far from the execution block now, and it seemed the woman had finally managed to get the dragon's attention. He had to admit that what she was doing was gutsy, especially when she wore no armor. But, that's why I went to get this, he reminded himself.

His legs were near busted from his battle with gravity and his fingers felt melted. Regardless, he got to his feet and ran back towards the fight.

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Surprisingly, it was not the several times that Aryll shouted "Ugly dragon" in the Old Tongue that finally got its attention.

No: it was when she had called it by name.

"Grah a dii, Alduin!" she had shrieked just as the beast was about to completely obliterate the watchtower. It had stopped directing its fire at the structure and now turned its entire attention to her.

Honestly, with everything Arngeir had taught her about the Prophecy, she had every right to be terrified.

"Why do they call Alduin the 'World-Eater'?" she had asked him after reading the Book of the Dragonborn for what seemed like the millionth time.

"Of all of the questions you have asked," replied Arngeir, "I'm surprised that one didn't come first."

"I tend to study things in order. I've taken all kinds of notes on the other lines, but not on this last one."

"Well, the answer is simple enough. Once Alduin returns to this realm, only destruction lies ahead. His power and flame shall consume the world that we know and turn it to ash."

"That doesn't sound very good," she managed.

"I should say not. But, it is destiny. And, if it is written in the stars, nothing can be done."

"Unless the 'Last Dragonborn' stops him," countered Aryll. "But, how is that possible? The line of Dragonborn royalty died with Martin Septim. He didn't have any children, and any other heirs were already dead."

"Even the Brothers cannot answer that," Arngeir said. "Perhaps, even the Grand Master does not know. But, I will say this: prophecies are not always what they seem, my Sister. And, I get the feeling that when the Last Dragonborn finally does arrive, it will have less to do with blood than it will deeds and actions."

She really wished this Dragonborn figure were here with her now, so that she would not be facing the so-called "World-Eater" alone.

"About time!" she shouted as Alduin perched himself on the wall in front of her. "I've been calling you for ages."

"How does a Man know of the Old Tongue?" His voice came out as a guttural hiss.

"First of all, I'm not a man." Alduin roared at this. "What? It's true."

"YOU DARE PESTER ME, CHILD?!"

"Well, I mean, it should be rather refreshing for you, seeing as how you've been dead and all that," Aryll quipped. Another roar and Alduin shifted in place.

"You will die next," he said.

"Maybe," she agreed, "but not necessarily now." He reared back his head, but before he could say a word, Aryll beat him to it. "FO… KRAH… DIIN!" A blizzard of ice and snow erupted from her mouth and plastered itself on Alduin's throat. The dragon reared in pain and immediately took air. Those blood-red eyes were now filled with loathing. "Why don't you fly back to the Underworld from whence you came?" Aryll goaded.

"So, it is true," Alduin glowered. "The time is at hand."

"For you to eat Nirn? Yeah, that time was never going to come. You were always going to be stopped." Alduin looked up to the sky and let out a piercing cry that would have split Aryll's eardrums had it been directed at her. She used this time to gather her energy for another shout.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!" This time, Alduin dodged the attack.

"How dare you use the Thu'um against ME?!" He swung his tail towards her, and Aryll barely dodged. Shouting came with a price: that was the first principle the monks had taught her. It took years to build up the strength and energy that the Brothers had to shout so frequently in so short an amount of time. While it was true that she had studied the Voice from a young age, she did not yet have the constitution to use it for a second time within the span of a few minutes, much less for a third time. Still, she forced herself into a steady stance and prepared for one final shout. It would have to be one that would protect her for just a bit longer, even if she would not be conscious for the results. Alduin wanted her dead, which meant that the more she prolonged the inevitable, the angrier and more focused on her he would become.

"Feim…" she gasped, her world spinning and blurring before her eyes. "Zii… zii…" She fell to her knees, her strength failing her. "Gr… rrr…" Flames ignited in Alduin's throat, and Aryll knew that nothing would satisfy the World-Eater more than seeing his challenger burnt to a crisp.

A shadow suddenly blocked her view and obstructed the fire breath. Forcing her eyes open, Aryll saw the boy from before standing over her, a shield raised in defense. How is he doing that? she wondered. Any ordinary shield, be it wooden or metal, should have melted under the strain. But, neither it nor its wielder looked fazed.

"Are you alright?" he asked without looking back. Aryll could barely answer with anything more than a soft grunt. Alduin looked ready to blast them again when a small and pointed object flew through the air and pierced itself in one of his scales. He growled, more furious than hurt, and looked past Aryll and the boy.

"Ary!" Gwilin hollered from nearby. Another cry revealed that the strange girl was still with him. Aryll could see Alduin smirking – if dragons could smirk – and knew that she didn't have a choice.

"Feim… zii… gron…" she mumbled, just as he let out another shout. The boy raised his shield to defend their group, but Aryll knew it would be unnecessary. The flames just flew straight through them into the earth below. Aryll shot a weak grin back at Alduin, who now appeared to reevaluate the situation.

"We will meet again, Dovahkiin," he said. "And when we do, you and your friends will be the first to be devoured. You shall suffer – aus – slowly and painfully."

"Get us… out of here…" Aryll whispered to Gwilin. "Won't… last… long…" Her world faded just as Alduin took to the skies.

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Author's Note: Most of the Dragon Shouts in this chapter are canon. But, I figured if the Greybeards know the Old Tongue, there would actually be a language with syntax and phrases not introduced in the game. "Dovahfeh" is what I imagine would be translated to "ugly dragon". "Grah a dii" uses words from two canonical shouts, "grah" (meaning "battle") from "Elemental Fury" and "dii" (meaning "mine") from Miraak's shout, "Devour Soul". The imagined meaning of the combined phrase is quite literally "The battle is mine". In Aryll's case, she is basically saying, "Come fight me, bro".