Nariilu's Souls danced beneath her skin in a fevered attempt to push out of her body. Her heart beat in time with the footsteps of the ancient Nords that filed into a loose formation behind her as she led them over the Whalebone Bridge and past Tsun, who stepped aside for them with a simple nod and a fist crossed across his chest. The mist was beyond thick, but the glowing warriors behind her seemed not to struggle to keep from coughing as she did.
Her cohort-worth of warriors followed in a loose formation singing a pounding warsong in Dov that she barely translated in her head. It was some song about her Thu'um, and Nariilu could swear she heard something about Alduin. Nariilu bit her tongue to bark an order for them to step in strict formation, marching time. A fair number had lived before even the founding of the First Empire, and more had been simple skirmishers or hunters in life. Besides, there was no reason for strict defensive lines when one Shout from Alduin could send half of them crashing into a mountain. She allowed Felldir the Old to lead beside her, turning them through a softly sloping pass to a large valley that opened below them.
It was covered in low fog, almost looking like a lake in the early autumn morning save for the shrubs and boulders that pushed through. "The main battlegrounds," Felldir explained. "We organize war games here occasionally. Here, the World-Eater can be surrounded and slain with relative ease. At the very least, none of ours will fall to the Void, and all who follow us know the terrain well, even when blinded by this cursed mist."
Wails of dead souls echoed off the cliffs bordering the plain. "Relative ease is still near-impossible. I was barely able to put a scratch on him earlier, even with Dragonrend," Nariilu replied. "If he's got access to the souls of the dead whilst we fight him, he can regain strength faster than we can wound him. Don't forget; Alduin can devour you, too."
"An army of Tongues is more resistance than Alduin has ever met," Gormlaith spoke up. "He has no army to send here. One Dragonrend is nothing compared to the wealth of Voices we have alongside us."
"Still, don't get too close to his mouth," Nariilu said.
"I never make the same mistake twice."
"No, you make them five or more times at the very least."
"Shut up, Hakon."
Nariilu scoffed. "I meant all of you." She looked at the aura dancing above her. It hadn't moved from night to day since her arrival; Nariilu imagined it was a consequence of Sovngarde being a Void-bound plane. It was still here save for a light breeze swirling the top layer of fog. She turned around to address her cohort. "Alright! I'll keep this brief. After today, Alduin will menace the dead and living no more!"
A yell of agreement rose through her ranks. She continued after the warriors died down. "Tongues! Stagger your Shouts. Keeping Alduin grounded with Dragonrend is paramount to our most glorious victory! Veterans of the Dragon War, I don't need to remind you where the Wyrm is most vulnerable and dangerous, but for those who never faced a dragon in life; his scales are thinnest along his belly and on his wings. Avoid his tail, and his maw above all. His blood is poison; do not let it touch your skin. Shor's most honored dead! The gods will sing of our deeds! Take your positions to vanquish a great evil from all of Aurbis!"
The majority of warriors moved down around the valley, the numerous Tongues among them Shouting away the mist as they went and half circled the plain. Archers of all eras drew their bows and hid in enclaves in the cliffs, ready to pin Alduin down when they could and distract him when they couldn't. Behind her, Felldir, Hakon, Gormlaith, and eight ancient Dragonborn-her subordinates-waited for her challenge to Alduin. They would fight alongside her, the most experienced of the dragon hunters, the ones with the most chance of surviving a head-on charge towards Alduin.
The Dragonborn's Souls reached out to her even through their own skin. She already had them organized in her mind from most to least powerful, from Tsunilde of the Dragonguard, with nearly thirty Souls she selfishly kept to herself, to Folgun, a young man with only two Souls besides his own. And Nariilu kept an extra eye on Wulfrend Stormcloak, Thane to some High Queen Sidgne she'd never heard of before, if only because of his name and the deeds he claimed for his clan as he only had half a dozen souls to himself, on the low side of average for the other ancient Dragonborn.
"Do not worry, this one has much less at stake for this battle." J'zargo squeezed her shoulder, his claws cutting through her armor to tiny pricks on her skin. Nariilu refused to turn. He could not be here; it was a miracle she was here, even with the blood of High King Erling flowing through her veins. J'zargo's voice continued. "After all, J'zargo cannot die twice."
Nariilu snickered despite herself, swallowing a lump in her throat as the false reassurance of J'zargo's hand at her shoulder faded. She couldn't bring herself to hope that it would be the last time her mind would trick her.
"Alright, who's ready to fulfil a prophecy?" Nariilu held her swords, ready to draw them from her sides, and began preparing her lungs in the way the ancient Tongues had advised her before they'd left the Hall of Valor. She took one final breath and prayed to Talos to guide her Voice, to Akatosh to guide her Soul, every other Divine to keep her standing after she called the World-Eater. If she had remained standing on the Great Porch, J'zargo would be alive to greet her when she returned to Nirn.
There was no use dwelling on her mistakes, failures. She had a god to kill.
"ALDUIN!"
The winds stopped; Kyne herself held her breath along with the rest of Whiterun as Elenwen crossed to Vignar, still bent in prayer to Talos. Her Justiciars and soldiers stood in flawless attention in the plaza in shining armor and shimmering robes. They stared forwards towards the scene unfolding, the scene that was going to end in blood splattered on ancient stones.
"What do we have here?" Elenwen spoke, stopping a short distance from Vignar. "I trust my eyes deceive me, for it appears we not only have a shrine to the false god, but a devotee to sacrilege itself. Citizen, what does the scene appear to you?"
She wanted a confession. Her tone was sweet and sick; a mother who knew of her child's misgivings and falsely promised a lighter punishment in exchange for owning up to their faults. And how she could get a confession to all the sins of life! Words as warm as a hot iron, as savory as the flesh she burned with it. Ulfric tasted bile in the back of his throat, his vision narrowing to focus only on her.
"I see no scene; my eyes are closed," Vignar replied.
"And why might they be closed?"
"Well, I've just had an excellent meal, and I'd hate to taste it a second time if I were to see your face."
Snark. Elenwen hated snark. Any sort of backtalk at all was strictly forbidden. She expected polite responses, even if they were syncopated by sobs and screams.
Elenwen circled Vignar with her arms tightly crossed, turning her attention to the Whiterun guards in formation on the Dragonsreach stairs. "Guards, before what does this man bend?"
The guard's faceplates betrayed no emotion, and not one answered her. Elenwen hated silence more than snark. She demanded the courtesy of admitting ignorance, and rewarded it with her helping one to remember. Ulfric noted the slight twitch in her eyes, widening in annoyance. He doubted anyone else noticed the slight change in her demeanor.
"Legate," Vignar said.
Elenwen swiveled, her back to Ulfric. "Come again?"
"You'd ought to refer to me as Legate." Vignar stood and turned to face Elenwen, straightening out his back as much as he could to stand tall, placing a solid hand on the hilt of his sword. If he turned his head slightly, he'd see Ulfric cowering under the branches of the Gildergreen. "I earned that rank in the Great War for slaughtering over a hundred Thalmor myself. I dedicated each swing of my sword to Talos."
Elenwen let her arms fall to her sides, her neutral almost-smile fading almost imperceivably. She was over a swords legnth away from Vignar; the old man wouldn't be able to unsheathe his sword before she struck him down with a spell. And then he would be left on the ground, writhing in pain until he didn't even have the mind to beg for mercy, but Elenwen wouldn't stop until he lost all feeling except for his heart beating in time to her pulses of lightning. Maybe she'd heal him and do it again. And again. And again.
"So, I've got it on good authority from a certain 'false god' that I'll be walking away from this encounter," Vignar asserted. "I'll be taking my leave now. May Talos damn you." He tossed a coin towards the shrine and moved to walk past Elenwen.
And she let him walk away from her, whistling an old Hymn to Kynareth. And Ulfric would place his life on the fact that he would be the only person in Tamriel to notice Elenwen's finger's twitch, her shoulders square. And his feet were made of iron as he sprinted from the Gildergreen, his heart racing against Elenwen's raising hand, his mind fighting to remind him that Elenwen brought nothing but pain and suffering and dishonor and death and cruelty. Ulfric threw his body between Vignar and Elenwen, drew his sword between himself and arcing purple lightning.
His knees buckled and Ulfric collapsed to the ground as her spell caught on his sword and raced through him. Ulfric didn't doubt for a second that she had intended to kill Vignar with this spell; he cried out in pain as his vision blurred, his grip tightening painfully around the hilt of his sword against himself. The spell stopped, leaving a strong shivering echo of itself bouncing around Ulfric's body.
"Well!" Elenwen exclaimed in what Ulfric figured was genuine surprise. "Ulfric Stormcloak, it's been too long. But, if you'll excuse yourself, I've just caught a man in the act of breaking the terms of the White-Gold Concordat, and as First Ambassador to Skyrim, it's my sworn duty to deal with such misgivings in an efficient and timely manner."
"Ulfric, you damned fool!" Vignar muttered behind him. Ulfric steadied his breathing, and let his shaking sword arm lower. He didn't dare try to stand in his state, it was all he could do to remain upright, resting on both knees.
"He hasn't given a confession, so his crimes are suspected. Under the White-Gold Concordat, any suspected Talos worshippers must be given a fair trial to defend themselves against accusations," Ulfric choked out between pants. Every breath crackled in his lungs. "This trial," Ulfric continued, quoting the Concordat, "must be held in accordance with local laws and customs in a public forum. The verdict over the guilt of the accused must be determined by a panel consisting of one or more Thalmor Justiciars in addition to the standard number and selection of adjudicators to be found in similar trials of such importance, such as trials to affirm guilt of treason or Daedra worship.
"In Whiterun Hold, trials of treason are held before the Jarl and his Thanes," Ulfric continued. "If you were to kill him now, Elenwen, you'd be in clear violation of the treaty you claim to uphold." Her name dripped from his lips like sick. Her face twisted in some emotion Ulfric barely had the energy to categorize, instead focusing on pushing himself upright.
"And the Jarl of this Hold is in clear violation of the Concordat himself." Elenwen gestured behind her towards the shrine. "By refusing to remove such a blasphemous statue, Jarl Balgruuf has proven himself unwilling to comply with the terms, and a proclivity against them. A trial with him as judge is not a fair trial as the Concordat demands." She stepped one, two, three steps towards Ulfric, close enough to touch him. He didn't trust his feet to back away, and instead glanced ever so slightly down to stare into her eyes. They were the color of suffering. "Now, dear general, since you've proven yourself so intimately familiar with the White-Gold Concordat, would you please continue on to quote the next section?"
"If it is to be the case that the local authority is found to be incapable of holding fair trials be it due to lack of facilities, a culture that lacks precedent for the necessary proceedings, uncommon bias towards the accused, or some other aberration not here listed," Ulfric spoke as she wished, and he hated himself for it, "the burden of trial will fall upon the local Aldmeri Dominion authority."
Elenwen smiled. "And as the mere existence of this shrine shows 'uncommon bias towards the accused', given the nature of the accusation-"
"In such circumstances, the proceedings must be made public with ample opportunity for the accused to defend themselves," Ulfric finished, cutting off Elenwen. He was vaguely aware of a small crowd gathering to watch the spectacle, and likely the subsequent execution of himself and Vignar. Maybe even Balgruuf, too. Elenwen's fingers sparked.
"Ah, yes, such were the affairs in Windhelm, though most in Eastmarch were known blasphemers, rather than suspected as is the case here," Elenwen replied. "Much simpler protocol, don't you agree, dear general?"
Ulfric opened his mouth to agree, to speak the words she wanted to hear, the words she'd asked him to say. And they almost spilled from his mouth as easily as anything, but this request…It was too much to condone the slaughter of his own people for daring to worship their own god. He'd given up everything for the right of his innocent people to choose who to pray to. How dare she demand him to support her? How dare he give her any control over his thoughts, his words, his words blessed by Kynareth herself with the Voice of the ancient Tongues, a Voice that brought Dominion armies to their deaths, Skyrim to arms.
And in spite of all she'd taken from him; years of his prime, countless nights of sleep, the luxury of painlessness, Elenwen had taken far more from those he'd tried his hardest to protect from her, from the Thalmor. His blessed citizens, whether they'd taken up arms alongside him or cursed his very name, he'd failed to protect them. "Tell me, dear Ambassador, how badly were you punished when you couldn't even force a timely confession from a boy, even with all your tricks? How poorly did you feel when all of your interrogations yielded nothing but outdated swill?"
Elenwen took a second to compose herself. Ulfric barely kept a lax hold of his sword; the rush of standing up to her throbbed harder than any lingering pain from her powerful spell. Vignar chuckled behind him. The man had no regard for his own life, it seemed.
"Is the Jarl of Whiterun so far beneath the Dominion's notice as to not receive a letter of expectation?" Jarl Balgruuf boomed from the first platform of the stairs, flanked by twenty guards and his court. Irileth looked especially aggressive at his side.
"Jarl Balgruuf, I'm afraid you've been found in violation of the White-Gold Concordat, as has this man." Elenwen moved in front of Ulfric to gesture at Vignar.
"On what grounds?"
"The mere presence of this shrine in your fair city is in strong contention of the terms that you, yourself, signed and agreed to. It's stance nearly three decades after your agreement-"
"Is a result of your incompetence." Balgruuf crossed his arms. "Under the Concordat, any shrines can only be removed under the guidance of a Thalmor Justiciar who must oversee its destruction. However, that so-called 'shrine' is nothing more than a statue of Tiber Septim, the founder of the Third Empire."
"Another name for Talos."
"First Ambassador, are you implying that the man Tiber Septim is Talos? Why, we simply honor our history in Whiterun," Balgruuf said. "I'm sure you're aware we Nords revere our ancestors, and why should we not revere Tiber Septim, an Atmoran as much as Ysgramor and his Companions, who built their hall right over there, the same as any other who's passed on to Sovngarde. So, would you deny us our right to admire our bloodlines as you admire your own, though it be no less red than mine? The legacy of Tiber Septim has not been banned."
Elenwen scoffed. "You obfuscate."
"Then substantiate," Balgruuf dared.
"OH, TALOS GUIDE OUR SOULS!"
Kyne and the rest of the world let out a collective sigh as the priest Ulfric had seen giving his rather treasonous sermon ran up, pushing through the crowd of muttering onlookers. He was caught by one of the Thalmor soldiers in golden armor with one hand, and dramatically collapsed in his grasp, sobbing. Elenwen's eyebrows nearly flew off her head and she smiled like a snake.
"See, children of Skyrim, children of Talos," the priest ranted, weakly pulling against his captor, "see how our Elven overlords have come to take away the god of Man! To take away the terrible and mighty Talos, he who has risen from this unworthy mortal plane to become Divine!"
"Mara's mercy, gag him!" One of the Justiciars barked.
"Even now, they try bind me, the chosen of Talos, anointed by the ascended Ninth to spread his holy-" An adjacent soldier shoved a hand over his mouth, holding his head in a firm lock. Balgruuf stared down at the scene, not flinching in his stance, but his eyes quivered.
"Wait," Elenwen said, holding up a hand and smoothly gliding over to the priest. "Let him speak." Ulfric backed up closer to Vignar, ready to block him from another spell or sword.
"Yes, Ambassador." The soldier unclasped his mouth, moving to hold him down tighter by his shoulder.
"Elven bitch! Talos has spoken to me! We Men, not Elves, are to inherit the heavens and the earth!" The priest spat at Elenwen's feet, not coming anywhere close to hitting her. "Aye, not you and your toadies! Rise up! Rise up children of Talos, of the Stormcrown!"
"A priest, I take it?" Elenwen asked, all the annoyance he and Balgruuf had forced into her voice gone and replaced with her smooth control.
"A priest of Talos, the god of Men and the god of the Empire of Man!"
"He is unwell," Balgruuf argued. "Every town needs a drunk, and here is ours."
"Nay, I do not speak for the Jarl, who has embraced the Puppet Empire and their lies. Lies!" Heimskr raved. "For I am healthy, more than healthy, with the blessings of Talos Stormcrown, he who is both man and divine!"
"Dammit, he's going to get us all killed," Vignar cursed under his breath.
"But where is your temple, humble priest of Talos?"
"Under the heavens, where he watches close over his chosen children. We lay our souls at his feet that he may take mercy upon us. Mercy! Yes, you damned Thalmor have no meaning of the word, for you have forsaken our god!"
"Shut up, Heimskr!" Balgruuf shouted.
Elenwen smiled. "Do you perhaps mean those feet?" She moved aside and pointed towards the statue of Talos.
"Yes! The holy feet of the ascended!"
"Ah, I see. So this is not a statue of Tiber Septim, but rather a statue of Talos?"
"Tiber Septim, as he is known as a mere man, who led the slaughter of the tyrannical Elves! Talos, as he is known as a god, who guides his children against the Thalmor's Empire!"
"And you will not repent your worship of Talos?"
"Never! Never will I bow!"
Elenwen waved her hand and the soldiers released Heimskr. He stood and gestured wildly at the crowd. "See how they release me? Aye, it is proof of Talos' intervention for his chosen! Rise up, Whiterun! Rise up!"
"Get out of here," Ulfric whispered to Vignar. The man began to take halting steps back towards his home and paused not three feet back. Heimskr continued trying to rile up the city, moving to fall at the shrine in prayer.
"As is law," Elenwen announced, "a confession of and subsequent refusal to abscond heretical beliefs, is punishable by public execution."
Ulfric sprinted forwards to throw himself in front of yet another spell, one he wasn't sure he could take the full force of for the second time in five minutes. But instead he found himself face down on the ground, unable to move anything but his eyes. He could clearly see Heimskr at the base of the statue, arms raised in prayer, as he was engulfed by purple spell work. An all too familiar smell of smoking flesh filled his nostrils. Ulfric would've gagged if he hadn't been paralyzed.
"And, Jarl Balgruuf, seeing as we've just received confirmation that this is, in fact, a statue of the false god, I believe we have more than enough Justiciars present to oversee it's destruction."
The statue exploded into chunks of stone, pelting Ulfric like hail. It didn't hurt as much as that damned blizzard spell the Dragonborn cast. Divines, if she were here, she'd…she wasn't here. There were much more important things to worry about than whatever that woman would scream at Elenwen. Scream. Ulfric cursed himself and tried to turn towards Elenwen, towards the soldiers to Shout them into Oblivion.
"Meranion, Trinimale, arrest that heretic on grounds of suspected Talos worship," Elenwen ordered. "It seems you were right, Legate, you are walking away!"
Vignar cursed the Thalmor, his words growing muffled as Ulfric assumed they gagged him. They'd gag him soon enough.
"Jarl, we have need of your dungeon. And please, if your servants could prepare quarters for your new advisors, I'd be greatly obliged," Elenwen crooned. She crossed in front of Ulfric, stopping just before she left his sight. "Justiciar Niraande is an expert in paralysis. Dear general, I believe you should regain control over yourself in an hour or so. You'll likely be sore for the next day. My sincerest apologies that it had to come to this, Ulfric. And, if you're wondering why we don't arrest you along with this old man, you can thank arrogant little Therel for weaving your immunity into your own terms of surrender. Dunmer are awfully fond of their slaves, you see, even disgusting half-breeds like her."
Ulfric tried to open his mouth to Shout her worthless head off her stupid body. A little drool dripped off of his lip instead.
Her Shout swirled around in the valley, agitating the occasional lost soul revealed in the cleared mist, waiting for Shor's Hall to open to them once more. Nariilu remained standing, her heart beating in time with her Souls, with the Souls of the Dragonborn behind her. She forced herself to breathe slowly, deeply from her stomach. Her lungs burned with the effort, but each inhale came smoother than the last.
And then after a silence too long, Alduin's roar pierced her ears and echoed in her skull like a dagger. "Coward!" Alduin yelled, sounding right next to her. She couldn't hear any sounds of powerful wings, or see his dark shadow fall over the valley. "How you have failed to meet my expectations of the lastborn of Akatosh! Little Dovahkiin, you are barely worthy of any death, much less the one I shall grant you! Strun, bah yol!"
The eternal night auras of greens and blues and purples turned to yellows and oranges and reds as the sky opened up and spat flaming meteors down to the plain. Battlecries and screams of pain rose from the warriors. Bodies went flying around where unlucky souls weren't quick enough to dodge. Nariilu sprinted into cover, pressing under a shallow overhang in a cliff with Hakon. "Plan's already gone to shit, eh?" He commented, bracing himself against the stone as Sovngarde shook.
"He'll level Sovngarde before we can put a scratch on him," Nariilu snapped. A Dragonborn warrior with seven Souls, Hrodith the Fang, joined them in their cover in a dive. "Hrodith, any sign of him?"
"Aside from this fiery storm?" Hrodith shook her head. Nariilu turned from a spray of flaming dirt; a meteor crashed outside of their huddle.
"And he calls me a coward!" Nariilu spat, drawing her swords and stepping out into the smoldering landscape. "Lok, vah koor!" Her Voice cut through the burning clouds, dispelling Alduin's storm. And there he was, hovering above the valley, watching his sown chaos frenzy her warriors. "THERE!" She yelled, listening to a chorus of Voices rise up, echoing the words Gormlaith had woven together in a burial shroud for all dragons.
Alduin cried out, landing hard in his own crater. Warriors descended upon him as he Shouted, "Ven, mul riik," and his mist rushed into the valley, hiding himself and the warriors from sight. Hrodith's Voice called in unison with Hakon as they cleared the mist once more, revealing a grim image of Alduin easily dispatching the warriors, their fallen essence flowing towards his serrated scales. The honored warriors looked to be no bigger than mice compared to him.
Nariilu cursed. "Quickly!" She called, breaking into a sprint down the mountain slopes towards Alduin. She tossed a Rally spell into the swarming masses of bodies, a dusted aura falling over the honored dead. The ancient warriors and Dragonborn easily passed her with their own Whirlwind Sprints, others with no knowledge of the Shout still outpaced her; Nariilu's chest caught with each step she took. Calling Alduin had been much easier than Odahviing, but summoning him and then Shouting not a minute later was straining her novice breaths. Arrows rained down upon Alduin, their path true to pierce his wings and embed themselves between scales. Spells dotted the air; mages were few in the Hall of Valor, but fire lapped at Alduin's back, lightning danced over him, and Nariilu even noticed the distinctive aura of a paralysis spell rush over his body. The warriors rushing towards Alduin gained an illusory twin from a wizard hidden in the cliffs.
He pulled one massive wing up, shrouding the valley in shadow briefly before slamming it down, crushing warriors underneath, leaving shattered light of illusion and crumpled puddles of corpses when he lifted his wing again. The bloodied bodies faded into golden light, their souls streaming into Alduin. The force of the gust he made swept others lucky enough to avoid the impact off their feet. The Dragonborn Mraldi of Valthume reached Alduin first, dodging his wing and ducking underneath him, hacking up with her greataxe into his belly. Gormlaith Shouted, "Joor, zah frul!", distracting Alduin away from the Dragonborn underneath him.
Nariilu drew her swords in a Battlemage grip with her thumb and first two fingers on each hand free for casting, throwing ice spears into his roaring mouth with some accuracy. Mraldi screeched as blood poured from the gash she made in Alduin's stomach, melting her ancient steel armor. She moved from under Alduin, clutching her chest as acrid smoke rose, falling just short of the warrior offering his hand to her. Her body exploded into light, leaving behind nothing but her bones and armor and weapon as her Soul-and the fourteen dragon Souls she devoured in life-flowed into Alduin.
"Pin him down!" Nariilu ordered, casting spear after spear into Alduin. He shuddered and sighed, the Soul essence brightening his eyes and glowing red skin. Voices rose in a unison Dragonrend; Alduin laughed and swung his tail like a mace. It was as big as the battering ram she'd used to break through Windhelm's thick gate…no, his tail was bigger. Scarce healing spells shot from the mountains, golden magic binding wounds and raising dying warriors to their feet.
Alduin turned from the rushing Dragonborn, Shouting at the cliffs. "Faas, ru maar!" The spells and arrows halted, and warriors caught in the edge of the Shout cowered where they stood or turned to flee. Alduin spread his massive wings, testing his span against the ceased onslaught of Dragonrend. And then he rose into the air, one inch, one foot-too high. Nariilu cursed Alduin; he was recovering too quickly. Far too quickly. The dying around him certainly weren't helping. And Mraldi's dragon Souls had likely healed him much more than a simple mortal's.
"Joor, zah frul!" Nariilu Shouted Alduin down from his hover, casting runes beneath him. He landed on terrified warriors, reducing them to golden souls, his stomach freezing as he triggered the runes. Damn. She slashed at his back leg, pausing to let Hakon wedge his greataxe between a scale and skin, sending oozing, quick cauterizing blood streaming down his leg. Nariilu stabbed into his flesh with both blades, twisting as she pulled her swords out. Splatters of his blood carried on her sword, and though it didn't seem to affect her Daedric blades, it splashed on her face and stung like embers.
The twin wounds sprayed blood in time with Alduin's booming heart. "Qo, lok tu!" Hakon Shouted, lightning bursting from his mouth and arcing to the gash in Alduin's leg. The purple lightning crested across his body and the World-Eater roared, his wings flapping uselessly after Nariilu's Dragonrend. Tsunilde joined them, her distinctive Blades-like armor and weapon flying as she Shouted, speeding up her strikes against the wound. Hakon stepped to the side to let her attack, moving ever closer to his massive ankle joint; he began hacking at another protruding scale.
Alduin's neck crested, four warriors flew screaming through the air before Alduin caught and swallowed them in one easy gulp. The trail of blood from his wounds slowed, and Alduin stood on his two hind legs, sweeping his wings along the ground and tearing deep trenches through the terrain. Dozens of warriors were unlucky enough to be caught against his wings and slammed into the cliffs or were tossed up to the mountains.
He slammed back into the ground hard enough to make Nariilu lose her balance as Sovngarde itself shook. He'd been playing with her earlier. Perhaps not at Helgen, when he was newly awoken, perhaps not at the Throat of the World where Paarthurnax was nearly his match, but in Sovngarde, where he feasted upon soul after soul that she'd brought to him.
A sharp, heavy tail barely missed her, prone on the ground, catching Hakon and Tsunhilde on the giant appendage. Hakon went flying under Alduin, skidding to the other side of the World-Eater. Tsunhilde choked, blood spraying from her mouth as her body was carried on a tail spike back over Nariilu, on its way to catch the other group of Dragonborn on the left side.
Nariilu jumped up and then collapsed back down as the tail returned, carrying Ulferth Kyne-Singer and all his dozen and a half Souls caught on another serrated horn. She shoved her head down, feeling Alduin's horns catch a small nick in the armor on her shoulder. She felt the cold sting of her skin opening easily before she twisted herself free of his tail without being pulled along. The blood of the two dying Dragonborn speckled the ground around Nariilu before they began to fade to Souls of every color, their essence and that of the dragons they devoured streaming to Alduin.
Her own Soul screamed in protest. That was her prize, they were her soldiers, her subservient dragons. Nariilu roared and jumped on Alduin's leg, climbing up to his back one razor sharp foothold at a time, feeling his scales slice through her leather gloves and into her palms with each move. "You belong to ME!" She yelled, holding onto Alduin's black scales with one hand, half freed around her sword, and reaching out to the betrayer Souls with the other. And they obeyed her, splitting from Alduin's body to flow into her own.
Dragonborn Souls were much more delicious than any Dragon's she'd ever devoured. Even the fraction of dragon Souls Tsunhilde and Ulferth brought with them to her, their rightful master rather than give to Alduin were flavored with the same mortal spark after thousands of years of belonging to the late Dragonborn.
"Ah, Dragonborn, your will is strong," Alduin sneered, pausing to breathe fire across the valley. "Though, their Souls will be mine soon enough." And he took off into the sky, revived by his stolen Souls. Nariilu forced a sword down through his scales, feeling the resistance of the bony plates fail once she pushed through and the scale cracked on either side of her sword with a loud pop. She clutched her sword as Alduin swirled through the sky, wind rushing past her ears and deafening her. His blood caught on the air and poured on her glove, stinging and melting the already shredded leather grip to her hand.
She felt a tickle cross through her armor and over her skin, like a wisp had just passed through her. Nariilu was suddenly all too aware that she was falling towards the ground in Alduin's shadow, still attached to his massive body. He writhed in pain above her, the last word of Dragonrend barely reaching her ears. "Feim, zii gron!"
Even as her body turned from corporeal to ethereal, she felt the impact between the Sovngarde, herself, and Alduin in a strange, ungodly way. Nariilu's intangible form passed through the ground and Alduin, and she raced to move out from under him before her Shout's effect faded. Nariilu found the edge of the World Eater and walked out of his body, seeing through it as if it were delicately woven gauze.
The warriors were taking full advantage of Alduin crashing on his back and attacked his soft stomach in all ways they knew how. Arrows and spells rained down from the cliffs, though their numbers a harsh fraction of what they had been. Others threw themselves into the newly-formed crater in one dangerous attack that left wounds peppered on Alduin's abdomen. The lucky ones survived to do their worst as they stood briefly on the dragon, flailing to turn over, the unlucky ones wailed as Alduin's caustic blood caught their leather, fur, cloth padded armor and skin.
Nariilu flexed her fingers around her sword; the other was still caught in Alduin's back. Her grip tightened around her own slick blood, ignoring the throbbing cuts in her hand. She backed up to the edge of the crater, feeling her weight return as her Shout faded. She was nearly breathless after Shouting however many times in fewer minutes. Gormlaith slid down the edge of the crater and caught her arm as she nearly collapsed. Tsunilde's Soul screeched at her to focus her breathing, to feel the fire of the gods within her, whatever in Oblivion that meant.
"Retreat, fated Hero," Gormlaith ordered, holding up her shield to block a spray of dirt as Alduin righted himself with a deafening roar. "We shall weaken him for your fatal blow." Tongues around and inside the crater Shouted elemental breaths towards Alduin, lighting him up red and blue and purple. Alduin Shouted back, catching a number of Tongues in an Unrelenting Force that pulled their muscle from their bones. The smell of burning, electrified flesh caught itself in Nariilu's nose; it smelled like a Great War battlefield. Cries of pain from the fallen and dying sounded louder than any Thu'um.
Nariilu nodded, watching tiny wisps of mortal souls reach towards Alduin. If only she could devour them like dragon Souls. Ulferth's Soul was in a frenzy, hating the feeling of captivity within her body, stirring up her other Souls, especially the dragon Souls that previously belonged to Tsunhilde and Ulferth. She wondered what the Souls she hadn't been able to keep Alduin from stealing felt like. She tapped her temple with her free hand, casting a small healing spell. Gormlaith ran off towards Alduin with a battle cry the warriors all matched in turn, joining Felldir and Hakon in their complex dodging game underneath the World Eater.
Dragonrend sounded around the crater, only seconds between the end of one Voice to the start of another. Alduin shrugged each one off easier than the last, slashing with his clawed wings and Shouting almost endlessly at one Tongue at a time. He was playing with them all. A severed leg landed in front of her, slapping the ground with a sickening thud. It faded to white Soul. She pulled a crushed candied fruit from her pocket and popped it in her mouth, letting the blessed food of the Hall of Valor refresh her.
And she sprinted to join the other Dragonborn attacking Alduin's neck and chest in an ill-practiced formation, just out of reach of his wings, easily far from his deadly maw. But, they were more than vulnerable to his dripping blood, though another of Alduin's wounds closed as each of Shor's honored warriors fell. She cursed, sliding under Alduin's wing to pass under his chest, dragging her sword along the thick skin. Nariilu hissed as her leathers melted away and her clothes beneath held unholy acid to her skin.
They were barely making a dent in him, even with all their effort. She stabbed and sliced and dodged in tandem with the others around her. Perhaps hundreds had fallen, and as long as Alduin could refresh himself as their numbers dwindled, they were no better off than had she come alone. If only he'd kill another Dragonborn so she could steal their Souls from him. Maybe that's why he was more or less ignoring the half dozen Dragonslayers at his chest; he didn't want to risk losing his precious Souls to one of them.
Risk losing them to her.
Tsunhilde and Ulferth's Souls protested her sudden scheme futilely as Nariilu used their own knowledge to prepare her spent lungs to Shout. She took half a second's effort to force their Souls into quivering submission-they were hers now, and they would obey.
"Tiid, klo ul!"
The warriors around her slowed, but Alduin and the Dragonborn moved as if they hadn't noticed. Of course Akatosh would keep his children shielded from such a Shout. But he hadn't thought to protect his children from their siblings; such was Nariilu's purpose, such was foretold in the Elder Scrolls.
Nariilu dove towards the Dragonborn, slicing her sword at young Folgun's chest. His thick leather armor was no match for a Daedric sword, and Jorling the Lesser fell as Nariilu sent an ice spear through his neck. Their dozen Souls streamed into her, frantic in betrayal and bloodthirsty for revenge. Kynslod paused, seeing her kill, devour two of their shield-brothers, and all Nariilu could feel was the thirteen Souls he kept from her. Selfish fool. He triggered an ice rune on his mace as he adjusted his grip to try and stop her from taking what was rightfully hers, freezing where he stood and shattering with another spear to his body.
"Ah," Alduin hummed above her, turning from the dwindling warriors barely moving under the effects of her Slow Time Shout. "I warned you, a dragon's nature is not easily ignored."
"What? Wait!" Hrodith cried out, catching Nariilu's sword on her own. Nariilu growled at her with the force of all her hundreds of Souls. Hrodith faltered, and Nariilu took advantage of her weakness to slice her head clean from her body.
"Look how you slay your weak, worthless kin," Alduin said, watching the spectacle with dark, shining eyes. Hrodith's body faded into light, and nearly turned to move to Alduin. Nariilu forced her to her rightful ruler. "Yes, I shall grant you the mercy of understanding what it feels like to be a true dragon, if only briefly."
"Zun, haal viik!"
Nariilu's sword was pulled from her hand, and she turned to the source of her Disarming. Wulfrend Stormcloak. Stormcloak. The man who left the Snow Tower sundered, kingless, bleeding. The man who caused the return of the dragons. The man who set into motion the beginning of her glorious reign over all of Nirn. But, before she could finish her conquest, she had to take down its last Tyrant. She must at least give the ancestor of a man to whom she owed so much a merciful death.
Wulfrend's eyes glazed over with a calm spell, and he walked forwards and knelt before her. Alduin chuckled above; Nariilu had no means of a clean death, but a quick, nearly painless one would suffice. Alduin would not get the same luxury. She enveloped him in a wall of frost, letting him shatter behind her as she dove for her sword.
Alduin moved to incinerate her with a Shout; Nariilu caught his Voice on a ward and blocked most of the heat from her body, instead feeling her leathers crack and bend against the flames. The pain was dulled by Wulfrend's Souls; she absorbed them one by one until his own Dragonborn Soul settled in her body, full of fury of betrayal and unfulfilled battlelust. All of the Dragonborn were livid at their perceived betrayal. Why could they not understand that Nariilu needed their strength to save the Aurbis?
And their strength she would take. She screamed against the fallen Dragonborn's vengeful Souls in unison, forcing them to submit and quiet and dissolve to nameless sources of power and knowledge and subservience as all their combined dragon Souls did automatically; they knew their places. Mortal arrogance, Alduin had mentioned, was a flaw of the Dragonborn who came before her. Mortal arrogance that kept them from accepting her as the greatest of them all, as the Elder Scrolls themselves foretold at the dawn of time.
Nariilu shivered as ancient knowledge reluctantly flowed into her own Soul, the Dragonborn Souls slipping off their Nordic lives to become as timeless as the dragons believed they were. Knowledge. It was warm and frenzied and obvious once she knew it all. And her newfound Knowledge filled her with fragments of memories from more mortal lives than one could ever live by themselves.
Mortality. It was what dragons could never comprehend. What Alduin feared. What he devoured so readily, despite having no use for the weakness of age, of decay. Arkay guide her, for she understood the cycle of life and death better than the god himself. She had the power of seven other Dragonborn in her Soul, and she herself was worth countless Dragonborn. As the Lastborn of Akatosh, she may as well be his own reincarnation, all his Divine might in one vessel.
Nariilu let her ward fade along with her Slow Time Shout and Alduin's own Fire Breath, readjusting her sword's grip to cast a massive blizzard against the World Eater. "JOOR, ZAH FRUL!"
Where one understanding of Mortality had stumbled Alduin, Dragonrend with the collective Knowledge of eight mortals-SEVEN. She would never fall to such weakness as death-left the massive dragon weeping and writhing in agony. His scales and skin dissolved before her, fading to bloody sludge and sloughing off in smoking puddles. The hail from her blizzard swirled, pummeling her as much as her target with stinging wounds that bounced and dented off her armor.
Alduin collapsed in shivers, his maw crashing to the ground in a cloud of dirt. "What…what is this? Fool! I am UNENDING!" Hail pelleted him where his scales were dissolving, leaving trickling wounds that he could not heal.
Nariilu jumped on his massive snout, feeling his sharp horns prick through the overlapping plates of her armor. Her own blood, or maybe Alduin's burning blood, warmed her legs with each step. She cast an ice rune on her sword and gained what speed she could on the uneven, dagger-filled surface of Alduin's face, forcing her blade deep within his melon-sized eye.
The wound spurted dark blood onto her and she cried out in pain before her rune even triggered. Shards of ice burst from Alduin's eye, catching Nariilu's helmet and sending it flying off her head, crisp cold slices breaking her skin and embedding themselves where her armor failed to protect. Alduin writhed and flailed. Nariilu kept firm grip of her sword, letting it twist and saw with each movement he made.
"I am ALDUIN! THE MOST MIGHTY OF ANY IN THE WORLD!"
Elemental Shouts from some Tongues behind her nipped at Nariilu's body; Fire Breath warmed her from the unrelenting onslaught of her blizzard and someone's rather powerful Frost Breath, Lightning Breath arced through Alduin into her own body. Nariilu cried in pain and lost her footing as Alduin reared back and Shouted, just managing to stay upright on one knee as his own Fire Breath joined the Tongues'. A scale punctured through her knee, sliding up the plate skirt covering her thighs and scraping along the ebony metal. She pulled herself up by her sword, still embedded firmly in Alduin's eye socket.
Red blood clouded her vision. She dared to loosen one hand's grip on her sword and sent ice spike after ice spike into the World Eater's head. With each spell, more of his deadly blood splashed onto her and her armor.
And then with one deafening shriek, Alduin crashed to the ground. Nariilu's sword popped loose from the ruined socket and she flew back, landing hard against the crater. Her breath left her body and she gasped for air, feeling her skin burn and melt and freeze and jolt all at once.
Alduin exploded into a rainbow of light, his body stiffening in agony. "I…I cannot!" He moaned. "Cannot die!" Nariilu turned away and squeezed her eyes shut behind her arm and even that was too bright.
His Soul-she felt it. Trickling into her slowly, with all the luxury of endlessness on its side. And oh, how endless it was in power! To call Alduin a god was humility.
But the steady slow stream of omniscience faded to nothing. "No," Nariilu whispered, opening her eyes and blinding herself against the dissolving dragon. Alduin's Soul moved away from her against all her protests, and it rose into Aetherius. She collapsed, too tired and wounded to strain for more.
