Nariilu dashed down the winding path, trying not to second guess which turns she should've taken, jumping over rocks and branches and streams in the way. Alduin roared behind her, his flapping wings ever closer. She just had to get to a clearing, anywhere where the massive dragon could land and she would stand a chance. She had no bow, and spells were notoriously unreliable outside of Mundus. If he even was behind her; Nariilu still hadn't seen him. She had half a mind that she was just hearing things again, which was troubling in it's own right.

She turned a sharp right on a whim, throwing herself back and sliding to the edge of a sudden cliff. Her heart raced as she came to a stop, her foot hanging over the edge. She could see the sky below, stars twinkled and auras danced over the floating plane. Nariilu scrambled back and pressed herself in the rocky mountains behind her, squeezing in the space between two rocks.

Gravel, dirt, and snow rained down on her as Sovngarde shook. A deep shadow cast over her, over the entire cliff, leaving her in near perfect darkness. A golden glow rose off somewhere to the right. Alduin's smooth breathing came slow and loud. Nariilu didn't dare look up in case he could somehow sense her gaze, even though her racing heart was likely already giving her away. Her skin felt full to burst of souls, more painful than ever. Nariilu bit her tongue to keep from crying out.

"Little human, coming here was no small feat," Alduin said. His voice sent shivers down her spine, growing louder and closer with every word. "Indeed, you were very nearly worthy of being called Dovahkiin! If not for my treacherous brother and foolhardy generals, you never would have made it to Sovngarde to face me." A gust of wind forced Nariilu out of her hiding space and threw her back on the narrow cliff. Alduin's gigantic form leaned over the mountain above, bigger than the entire Blue Palace, at least ten times bigger than he'd been at the Throat of the World. Bony, serrated horns protected his face and body, a red mist rose from his scales.

Alduin spoke again, his maw moving with jerking moves as his tongue sounded out the words. He could swallow a horse whole. "You have no knowledge of what it truly means to be a Dragon, and without that knowledge…I'm sorry, child, but you never had a chance against me, even with your dishonorable tricks. Yet, I am a merciful god, and want to thank you for providing me with all the souls I could ever need. Do you have any last prayers to beg to your puny gods? Be quick, I'll swallow the Aedra and Daedra and their worthless realms soon enough." Alduin crawled forwards and Nariilu crawled back until she was in danger of falling off the edge of Sovngarde. She wondered if that would be better than being eaten.

Nariilu swallowed a soul in her throat. "Why devour the entire world? Wouldn't it be better to keep devouring whatever souls end up in Sovngarde? To rule over Nirn as a god once more?" She asked, moving as slowly as possible in the direction of the Hall of Valor. It was futile to think she'd be able to inch her way there before Alduin got her, but maybe she'd get to a place where she wasn't at risk of being Shouted off the cliff the second she used Dragonrend.

Alduin hummed. "Not quite a prayer, child. But you already know," Alduin said. He turned his head and Shouted, mist rolling in. "Destiny is a word you've heard. A word you've held yourself beholden to, with mortal arrogance. It is my destiny to end this world, just as it is yours to try and save it. And you've done well, as well as any mortal could. But destiny is a fickle thing, and while the Elder Scrolls have foretold the auspices of your arrival since the dawn of time itself," Alduin gestured with his wing the same way Paarthurnax did when preaching philosophy, "the dawn of time only began with the knowledge that I would be its dusk.

"I'm sorry that you had to come this far before your death. I tried to help you the first time we met. If you had died before learning of what you are, before stealing your first Soul, it would have been much easier for you," Alduin continued. Nariilu managed to turn herself so her back wasn't to the void below, instead along the cliff path. "You feel the drive for eternal conquest every second of every day, now that your Soul is awake. And it gets worse with each Soul you steal, doesn't it? In my banishment, I watched every Dovahkiin before you fall to their own nature, leaving a legacy of blood in their wake. Mortals cannot handle one immortal Dragon's Soul, let alone two, or ten, or…" Alduin trailed off, his stare almost painfully intense. "Ah, especially not eighty-three. I'm impressed. Most Dovahkiin are dead long before then. And at this rate? Even if I were to let you leave here, you'd be dead within a year just from the strain on your body.

"There will be nothing more painful than defeat for you, Dovahkiin. Dragons were not created to lose at anything. Unfortunately, mortals were created to lose at everything. I could speak for all of time on the true ways of Dragons, but I'm sure my dear, worthless brother has already spoke enough of his lies that I'd do nothing but confuse you." Alduin sighed. Mist came out of his nose in a puff. "I'll offer you one last choice, out of respect for the end of this world. How would you like to die, child?"

Nariilu was silent as she squirmed on the ground, trying to move to where she could jump up easily. She hung her head before lifting her chin to face Alduin, staring into one eye. She slowly stood to attention, her head held high and every muscle tense. Alduin did not react as she moved; he had full confidence he could easily kill her no matter her position. "I've made my choice. I would like to die like the rest of the world will." Which is to say, not at all, she added to herself.

"Good. You bow before those stronger than you as a true Dragon should," Alduin said, moving down the mountain in an angled crawl.

"JOOR, ZAH FRUL!" Nariilu Shouted. Alduin screeched, his body freezing and tumbling down the slope, sliding off the cliff into the void. She took off in a sprint towards the Hall of Valor. If being outside of time hadn't killed him, she wasn't taking her chances that falling out of the world itself would.


Ulfric met High King Borgas' eyes, waiting to wake up from a dream. "Alright," Lydia said. Her voice sounded far away, even though she was only twenty feet or so to the side. "So here's the plan. I think we can get a horse down here to haul crates, so this'll go a lot quicker than usual. We'll fill one crate at a time, starting from here in the throne room- Are you even listening?" She jostled his shoulder. Ulfric blinked, she didn't sound all too far anymore. "What's that?"

Ulfric coughed to clear his throat before speaking. "Have you ever heard of the Jagged Crown?"

Lydia stood and stared at it. The crown was ebony and gold and dragon bones, still shining even after a thousand years, even in the torchlight. "You mean…it's not just a legend?"

"Not anymore."

She whistled low. "Well, shit. Guess this is what she wanted you to find."

Galmar had been right. He thought that the one big mission he'd planned without any of Ulfric's input had been all for nothing, often wondering aloud if it was his wasteful allocation of soldiers, resources that led the Stormcloak Army to such dire circumstances. And here was the Jagged Crown, right where Galmar said it would be. And, even though it pained him to dare to think it, maybe one day it would be on the brow Galmar said it belonged on.

"I'll go get started with the crates. See if you can drag those chests closer to the door, and take any junk out of them.

It took the rest of the day to fill up the cart, and they still didn't manage to clear all the wealth from the throne room. The moons were well in the sky by the time the final chest was lifted and tied down, The horses nibbled on spring growth pushing through ancient stones just inside the barrow, their shadows from the campfire dancing along the walls. Lydia passed him a jelly-filled roll, an unusual ration for the road but Ulfric supposed that a journey of only a day or so justified it. He wasn't about to complain; the berry jam was almost too sweet.

Ulfric rested his arm on the small crate containing the Jagged Crown. He was terrified that he would turn and it would be gone from history again. He occupied himself trying to calculate how much wealth was loaded in the cart, and then how much he'd be hand delivering to each citizen in Whiterun. He wondered if it'd be enough to convince them not to kill him. Maybe Lydia would accompany him; they seemed to like her well enough.

"What are you gonna do with it?" Lydia asked. She stared at the dancing flames of the fire. She'd lit it herself with a small spell, waving off any questions Ulfric asked about her magical ability. "The Crown."

"With any luck, wear it, someday."

"How much do you know?"

"I asked you first."

Lydia frowned and rolled her eyes. "Then we're at an impasse." They resumed their silence. It was tense where before it was comfortable and tired from a day's travel and work.

Ulfric figured there wasn't much harm in telling her that the Dragonborn planned on making him High King. She'd seemed to figure it out for herself, if she hadn't known already, and judging from the way she kept him in her line of sight from across the fire, and how she occasionally opened her mouth only to shut it before speaking, she wanted to discuss it. And Lydia couldn't discuss the Dragonborn's plans until Ulfric himself brought it up.

But he didn't want to make her plans feel any more real than they did at that very moment. Having the Jagged Crown only a thin piece of wood away made him want to break out in a sweat. And lifting it into the crate earlier had left him nauseous for hours. Ulfric didn't want to even consider how it would feel on his head. "Where are we keeping it?" Ulfric asked. "In the second room?"

"Breezehome has a false floor. It's where she keeps most things," Lydia answered. "The rest gets shipped to her other house in Solitude, mostly."

"Mostly?" Ulfric pressed.

Lydia shrugged. "She's got five-wait, no, six-other Housecarls. Jordis and I send excess coin. They've got their own priorities. Iona in Riften is paying off merchant's debts to the Thieves' Guild, Rayya in Falkreath is setting up a lumber mill. They all need money to do what they do."

"Her merchant's debts?"

"No, the debts of half the hold." Lydia rolled her eyes. "We're sitting on a mountain of gold and you think my Thane could purchase more than this in a few months?"

Ulfric shrugged. "Regardless, you've got no issues discussing what you and the Housecarls are doing," Ulfric said, waiting for Lydia to freeze and transition to speaking about the Jagged Crown, or the Ruby Throne, or anything.

"Of course not. It's public knowledge," Lydia replied. She wiped some errant jelly off of her hands on the stone floor. "Especially where the Dragonborn's starting her townships."

Ulfric waited for Lydia to start laughing and comment on how good her joke was. She didn't. Ulfric sighed. "Why townships?" An even better question, why hadn't he heard about them until now? People started farms and little settlements all the time on any available land, of which Skyrim had no shortage of, so the act of starting a mill or setting up a house or two was nothing out of the ordinary for any citizen. But for the Dragonborn to do it-Ulfric just figured it would be bigger news. Or at least something she'd mention to him. It wasn't exactly a plot to overthrow the Empire.

"You tell me."

Because she wanted to rule Tamriel? She had mentioned that the road to becoming a Jarl was eased by her deal with Maven-gods, Ulfric had nearly forgot about that. He had no desire to step foot in Solitude, much less help that traitor move her mead. Now that he thought about it, Blackbriar Mead didn't even taste that good-but he never would've guessed that her first plan was to build a Hold capital from scratch. Every other capital was thousands of years old with tens of thousands of citizens at the very least and pushing a few hundred thousand in Solitude. She had maybe a century to reach that level before she died, and far, far less than that before the Thalmor made a move for Skyrim.

By Talos, if she had just asked, he would've made her a Jarl if she'd had the mind between her pointed ears to join the Stormcloaks. Maybe Markarth; the Dragonborn could do well against the Witches of the Reach. Ulfric bit his cheek. She'd been hasty since the beginning. She'd had little time to sit in his court and listen to him lecture on the reasons she should join the Stormcloaks, instead focused on delivering some potion to Wuunferth. Still, he'd asked her to join after commenting on both her escape from Helgen and rumors that she was Dragonborn, and she declined. If he could talk to himself a year ago, he'd make his offer much more enticing than just glory of battle and liberation.

Ulfric shrugged. "Because she has her mind set on it. Arkay's blessing to those who stand between the Dragonborn and what she wants," he answered. Lydia laughed. "Where are they?"

"Well, Lakeview near Falkreath is the first one she started, and the main one. It's off Lake Ilinalta, near that pass from Riverwood to Pinewatch," Lydia explained. Ulfric figured he must've looked as confused as he felt when Lydia pulled out a map, walked around the fire, and pointed to the place. He nodded. It was situated right off the intersection of the main roads where all merchants from Cyrodiil and Hammerfell on their way to Eastern Skyrim or Morrowind would need to pass. Positioned just as well as Falkreath, but without being out of the way for a merchant passing through Helgen to visit. "And once that's all set up and going, which, by the sounds of things, is just around the corner, Rayya's sending the excess lumber off to Valdimar up in Hjaalmarch."

Lydia pointed near the mouth of the Karth River, just north of the Drajkmyr marsh, and continued. "Nariilu wants to set up a port town, Windstad, between Dawnstar and Solitude, and make a road over the swamps to Morthal for easy trade. And yes, she insists on the road. We've tried to talk her out of that more than once. And then here," Lydia slid her finger to south of Dawnstar, "Nariilu wants a mining town. Says the Dwarves had to be onto something in the Anthor mountains. That's lowest on her priority list, though."

"And I'm sure I don't need to remind you how this all sounds," Ulfric said.

"You're the one cuddling the Jagged Crown."


Alduin recovered too fast from Dragonrend. Nariilu barely had a head start on her way to the mead hall, Alduin climbing back topside of Sovngarde. "Ven, mul riik!" He Shouted, mist pouring like water over the mountains and down the cliff, obscuring her vision until she could barely see two feet in front of her. Nariilu hoped the path didn't wind around beneath her feet.

"Lok, vah koor!" Nariilu Shouted, the mist parting around her. She took a sharp breath; running and Shouting was hard work.

"Ven, mul riik!"

Nariilu cursed and choked on an inhale. Not yet. The ground disappeared around her under the thick fog once more and she slowed to a stop and turned, trying to convince herself she had a chance against the World Eater. She had to have a chance. "Come out and face me, coward!" The mists in this direction were deep reds, purples instead of the glowing golds, silver, in the direction of the Hall of Valor.

A low laugh echoed around in the mist from all directions. Nariilu drew both swords and planted her feet, scanning for shadows, flashes of light bouncing off scales, beating wings, anything that gave away Alduin's position. Anything, like the Shout of hail that came from one side. Nariilu jumped up back, watching the ice leave dents and cracks where it didn't coat the dirt path in a layer of slick.

Alduin's maw thrust towards her out of the mists, moving like a flash of lightning. Nariilu dropped to her back, lying on the ground above his massive skull, and stabbed up through his chin with both swords. "Joor, zah frul!" She Shouted. Her swords didn't puncture through his thick skin, instead scraping along in thick scratches where crimson-black blood pooled and scabbed over instantly.

He cringed above her, paralyzed for the time being from Dragonrend. Nariilu twisted to brace herself on one knee, putting all her weight behind one sword. She pushed up through his jaw, blood spilling and dripping down her blade. It steamed up from where it dripped on the ground. An acrid smell rose, almost like burning citrus; Nariilu choked as the fumes entered her lungs.

Alduin roared and beat his massive wings, tearing himself free from her sword. She almost lost it; Nariilu was pulled up with him as he began his ascent. When her sword finally broke free, she landed and fell back. She cursed, readjusting her grip on her swords. His jaw had been awfully weak at the Throat of the World, his eyes, as well, but she doubted she could reach those without climbing onto his head. And since Dragonrend was only affecting him for a fraction of the time it should, climbing around on a dragon ornated with razor-sharp horns wasn't a wise path.

She raised both hands, holding her swords with her last two fingers to free most of her hand. Alduin hovered above her, still getting his bearings as he didn't have all the space needed to fly effectively along the narrow path. His powerful wings cleared some of the mist; although it was magical, it still behaved like plain fog. Nariilu put the heels of her palms together and fired an ice spear at him, aiming for the dripping wound in his chin.

It hit square on its target, forcing his mouth open and freezing in a bloody icicle. Nariilu cast again, aiming for his stomach, hoping it was just as weak as every other dragon that pissed her off. Judging from the way he snarled down at her, it was. But he didn't seem nearly as phased as anyone should with giant wounds in their mouth and stomach should have been.

Nariilu dove for the mountain, landing just behind a half-collapsed statue as white-hot flames licked around the sides of her shelter. She covered her face with her forearms, her armor uncomfortably hot by the time the Shout died down. Nariilu leaned out from her hiding spot, getting one spear off before having to duck back down as he Shouted again. Alduin hovered, the ice in his body already melted. She didn't get a good look at how the wounds were looking, but he seemed to be in good enough health.

Ice spells were no good against an opponent who could simply melt them before they were able to freeze the blood. And swords were no good against an opponent who was out of reach. She looked towards Shor's Hall; none of the glow penetrated the mists. Was she facing the wrong way?

Nariilu took a deep breath and held it until the flames let up. She poked her head out. "Joor, zah frul!" She Shouted, hearing Alduin crash to the ground behind her as she took off in the direction she figured the Hall of Valor had to be. There were at least three others there that knew Dragonrend. Three others that could keep Alduin pinned down for her. And, if those three warriors from the Elder Scroll weren't there, a hundred ancient Tongues at the very least had to know Clear Skies.

An old Battlemage instructor of hers always insisted they learn to fight enemies they couldn't see; there were more than enough mages around that were deadset on either learning the invisibility spell or going to the lengths required to craft even a weak potion for it. Nariilu always brushed the old Redguard off; Invisibility didn't last long in any regard. Perhaps the Penitus Oculatus would need to be able to constantly cast Detect Life to find any would-be assassins, but Battlemages knew which direction to sling spells far more often than not. She'd be writing a letter of apology to the man for debating his teaching priorities.

"FUS, RO DAH!"

Nariilu was skidding along the ground before she even heard Alduin's Shout, and slammed her side into a mossy rock before she realized what had happened. Her mouth tasted of blood and her ribs throbbed as she clenched empty fists around where her swords should be. A wet warmth bloomed on her back around the pressure of dented armor. Her eyes darted wildly around the mist, taking a knee and raising her hands when she realized that finding her blades was futile when she could barely see her own nose. Lifting her arms scraped her armor against what was no doubt a nasty wound in her back.

Her lungs burned from Shouting, more than they should in the mist. Nariilu cursed and began to cast Blizzard, wondering if it would do much more than piss Alduin off. Perhaps the sound of sharp hail bouncing uselessly off of his back would give her some indication of where he was, even if it was obfuscated by the persistent echo off the mountains. She crouched down, holding a ward over her head and ready to jump out of the way of a Fire Breath Shout, or a swiping, deadly wing. Some hail broke through, pelting her armor like arrows.

The wind of the Blizzard picked up, pushing some of the mist away, but leaving visibility nearly as low with her storm. Drops of bright crimson blood stained the snow around her; the wound on her back warmed her body against the cold winds she summoned. Nariilu jumped away from the edge of the cliff; she'd been only a step or two away from falling into the void, and a single sign of Alduin attacking from diving into it. She turned her head wildly for any sign of Alduin, of Shor's Hall, of any cover better than some protruding rocks. Nothing. Had Alduin left, believing her dead or fallen from Sovngarde?

The spell faded and the mist rushed back towards her, filling her nostrils with the same burnt tartness of Alduin's steaming blood. And then, just as quickly, the mist retreated over the cliff like a waterfall until the path was clear in front of her, the only signs of the mist was occasional wisps rising from the low peaks of mountains to her left. No Alduin to be seen, no Alduin to be heard. Her swords lay fifty yards back, to either side of a Dragonborn-sized trench that extended nearly twice as long.

She jogged towards them, keeping her eyes to the void, waiting for Alduin to crawl over the cliffside and kill her. And then it didn't happen. He didn't show, and she looked over her shoulder almost constantly as she turned to walk towards the Hall of Valor, closer than ever.