"Paarthurnax, I see you're getting along well."
Nariilu hugged herself against the cold, looking over the audience of twenty or so dragons of all colors and sizes that perched in front of Paarthurnax's Word Wall. The ancient dragon ducked his head to her. "Drem yol lok, Dovahkiin," Paarthurnax replied.
"Drem yol lok," the dragons repeated. Nariilu spotted Odahviing lording at the peak of the Throat of the World.
"Philosophy class?"
"Indeed," Paarthurnax answered, "Without Alduin's lordship, many of the dovah now bow to the vahzen…rightness of my Thu'um."
Nariilu's eyes narrowed. They were her dragons, and she hunched her shoulders and inhaled to show him as much. Paarthurnax leaned forwards over his wall and Nariilu paused. She was barely keeping herself upright. It didn't matter that she just killed Alduin if Paarthurnax would take advantage of her weakness to swallow her whole. "Well, I'm glad that you're taking the chance to revel in the continuance of time." She scanned the ground at her feet, snow drifted over the weapons and armor from Tsun's Shout. She reached down and plucked a dark lump from the snow, revealing the mask of the dragon priest she killed.
"Niid koraav zeim dinoksetiid. We must do the best we can with this world," Paarthurnax replied, creeping ever closer to her. "But I forget myself. Krosis. So los mid fahdon. Melancholy is an easy trap for a dovah to fall into. You have won a mighty victory. Sahrot krongrah, one that will echo through all the ages of this world for those who have eyes to see. Savor your triumph, Dovahkiin. This is not the last of what you will write upon the currents of Time." He snorted; warm, crisp breath hit Nariilu and blew her hair back. She shook the snow from her mask and dropped it in her sack. It clanged against her armor.
"You're welcome," Nariilu said, and smiled, nodding her head to Paarthurnax and turning up to Odahviing. "But there is at least one here who has already sworn to my Thu'um. Odahviing, Alduin is dead by my hand."
All heads turned to the red dragon. Odahviing steamed in the soft falling snow. "If Alduin himself could not stand against your Thu'um, I feel no shame in my own defeat. As for myself, you've proven your mastery twice over. Thuri, Dovahkiin. I gladly acknowledge the power of your Thu'um." The dragons shifted as Odahviing spoke, and Nariilu felt Paarthurnax tense beside her.
She motioned for him to come down with one hand, and Odahviing descended from the peak, speaking as he went, "Though, I admit curiosity of how the Thu'um of Thuri Dovahkiin compares to that of zok gruth Alduin, Alduin's great betrayer."
Nariilu bit her tongue. "Paarthurnax's mastery of the Way of the Voice is simply unparalleled," she answered before Paarthurnax had a chance to turn the goading into an outright challenge. "I personally watched him match Alduin in Voice. I have tasted his Thu'um and know it to match the fallen Alduin's, and I assure that it outclasses any dragon alive, myself included." She paused and let her compliments set in, letting the dragons be taken aback by her statement. To praise a fellow dragon in such a way and not pledge fealty to him was unthinkable to the proud creatures. "However, the power I hold as Dovahkiin with the mortal Shout of Dragonrend at my side leaves me superior to any true dragon, if only in a single aspect. Odahviing, would you agree?"
She forced her breathing to slow, staring down Odahviing. "She speaks truth," he admitted. "Pruzah wundunne wah Wuth Gein, (I wish you good travels, Old One) but I must align myself with the zok mul dovah."(strongest dragon)
Paarthurnax chuckled. "I hope to see you return to my mountain, Dovahkiin, before your short life ends. Dov wahlaan fah rel. We were made to dominate. The will to power is in our blood. Enjoy this if you cannot overcome your nature, but I shall remain should you determine zin krif horvut se suleyk. Honor is only gained by fighting the lure of power."
Odahviing scowled; Nariilu wasn't sure it was possible with such a bony face, but he made it happen. He'd been expecting a fight, and as Alduin's former third in command he'd be able to return to form with herself and Paarthurnax out of the picture. Nariilu smiled. She wouldn't let it be that easy for him. She bowed to Paarthurnax, and he nodded his head back. "Thank you for your offer, honored Paarthurnax. May our differing philosophies not distract from an alliance that envies the gods."
"Lok, Thu'um."
She walked as smoothly as she could to Odahviing. "C'mon, we're going back to Whiterun," She ordered, poking around the snow with her walking staff. With only a brief look, she uncovered scales and weapons returned to Nirn alongside her. Nariilu crouched down and tucked a few nearby scales into her bag; they only burnt her hand a little bit.
"Here," Odahviing spat, drawing one of his clawed feet forwards. A golden rod flew from it, embellished with a twisting, roaring dragon. "Spoils from my priest at Skuldafn. I am grateful for you sparing Lahvusedovi, my dragon army."
It'd go nice with her mask, and it looked much more regal than her wooden staff. She exchanged it and tested its support. It was more than useful as a walking staff, though she'd have to take care not to accidentally discharge its magic. Storms bounced inside, sealed in by powerful souls.
"Ahrolsedovah awaits," Odahviing said, pressing his massive skull low to the ground for her to climb on.
Jarl Balgruuf scowled at First Emissary Elenwen from across his receiving table. She lectured him on protocol and enforcement and made threats veiled by false compassion; she only wanted to protect him and his Hold, you seem like such a good man, Jarl, I'd hate for this to reflect poorly on you. She spoke highly of the four-four!-Justiciars she personally chose to be stationed in Whiterun, though Balgruuf nearly convinced himself she was just saying that to scare him into not interfering with whatever they'd be pulling before they met their untimely deaths.
But he couldn't just have another Justiciar die under mysterious circumstances. Once was fine, twice was pushing it, but now with four? Even worse, Elenwen offhandedly mentioned that they'd be working in pairs for extra safety, given the past fates of Thalmor in the area.
And the Imperial Legion was only weeks away from pulling away from Whiterun. That damned Tullius got his victory and, exactly like Jarl Dengeir…former Jarl Dengeir had said, he was taking away the forces that were by his count, reducing bandit attacks on the road by half. He didn't have the guards to run a quarter of the patrols they could, but Tullius claimed that rebellious sentiment was at 'an all time low' following Ulfric's defeat.
"First Emissary," Balgruuf interrupted her during a patriotic tirade about respecting the will of the gods, "I'm glad to host your Justiciars, but there isn't a history of religious extremism in Whiterun like in, say, Markarth. Nor are we a seat of great power like Solitude."
"I need not remind you of the incident yesterday," the Emissary said. Balgruuf opened his mouth to defend his Hold, but she held up a hand and continued. "Yes, you were following the word of the Concordat, and there is no need to chide you on being so dogmatic in your methods of enforcement. While not true extremism, you cannot deny that Whiterun Hold was uniquely divided during the recent Civil War. You refused to condemn the Stormcloak Army until they fired upon your walls, seemingly ignoring the blasphemy that they fought for."
Balgruuf shrugged. "I didn't think it would become an all-out war. A skirmish, yes, but I unfortunately underestimated the support the rebels would gain," he lied. No, he wanted to protect that hot-headed cousin of his. Balgruuf didn't know how much longer he could protect them, but Ulfric hadn't been arrested last evening, that was at least worth something. But why, why wouldn't the Thalmor arrest the leader of the Stormcloaks, regardless of the thin diplomatic immunity Dragonborn Therel wove into the terms of surrender? He had interfered with an arrest, stopped a murder, still wore his Amulet of Talos outside of his clothes.
What were they playing at?
"It seems many underestimated the Stormcloak Army," the Emissary agreed. "But, please, Jarl, do not humble yourself. Whiterun is known as the Imperial City of Skyrim, even to children in Alinor. It's said that for every Septim that's made in Solitude, two are made in Whiterun." Balgruuf stopped himself from rolling his eyes. It was the other way around, actually. The Emissary continued, "There's been an explosion of contraband passing through Markarth. As the trade center of Skyrim, we can monitor for illegal items much easier here."
"My men already search each merchant cart," Balgruuf argued. "Thoroughly. We have no need for assistance."
"Of course not, Jarl. Your guard is renowned," the Emissary complimented with her politician's smile. "We just strive to uphold the terms of the White-Gold Concordat. If everything is up to par, you've nothing to worry about but extra security. Many hands make quick work, after all."
Proventus leaned over to him. Balgruuf gave him his ear. "You could be arrested for trying to defend the Shrine, yesterday," his steward whispered. "I'd advise you to accept, rather than risk being dethroned. I've heard of entire families being disappeared by the Thalmor, and-"
"Extra security is always welcome," Balgruuf blurted. They wouldn't touch his children, not while he was alive or dead. "Of course, you're well aware of the dangers the bandits bring."
"Yes, deepest condolences for our late operatives," Elenwen mentioned. "Now, on the matters beyond trade security-"
"Excuse me, Jarl!" A guard rushed up the stairs, giving a hasty bow at the top.
Normally, Balgruuf would've eviscerated the man on the spot for barging into a very serious meeting, but he was so grateful for the distraction from the Thalmor delegation that he decided to promote the guard instead. "What is it, son?"
"A dragon's been spotted flyin' towards the city!" The guard was breathless. The guards stationed around the room shifted nervously. "Looks like that same red one from the Porch."
"From the Throat of the World?" He'd caught glimpse of the dozens of dragons circling the Throat of the World. They were dwarfed by the massive mountain. Balgruuf had been worried for the peaceful Greybeards, but he had much bigger problems to consider than the wellbeing of the old monks. The guard nodded. "Go sound the alarm. If he brings his army back, we've no chance."
"Yes, sir!" The guard ran off.
"All of you!" Balgruuf barked at the palace guards. Some hesitated, but all ran down the stairs towards the entrance of Dragonsreach.
The Emissary hummed. "Jarl, you've nothing to worry about. A dragon is no danger to one Thalmor, let alone all that are here."
"I seem to recall seeing your name in the report on Helgen," Balgruuf snapped. "If that were true, the city wouldn't be a pile of rocks, would it?" A ear-splitting roar cut through the air, followed by a frantic, regular bell toll. "Irileth, get the children to the dungeons."
"I'm sworn-"
"I don't give a single damn." Irileth scowled at him and cursed in Dunmeris, but still moved towards his private quarters. She shoved a Thalmor soldier roughly as she picked up her pace. "Well, Ambassador, here's your 'matters beyond trade security'."
The Emissary was still sitting calmly at the table, her Justiciars mimicking her almost bored expression and posture. "There's no reason to panic, Jarl," she explained. "Your city stood up to twenty dragons not long ago, no? One dragon shouldn't cause alarm."
"We were prepared then." Balgruuf stood and held his hand on his sword. "Proventus, go get Farengar."
"Yes, I'd been meaning to ask you what happened that day. Capturing a dragon only to release it? Very unexpected, Jarl Balgruuf."
And then Dragonsreach shook, nearly knocking Proventus down. Balgruuf saw a flash of worry ghost across the Emissary's eyes. The Great Porch. Odahviing had returned, expecting the yoke this time, come for his revenge. The Dragonborn was dead, probably swallowed by the World Eater. And all his guards were in the city proper, not Dragonsreach, where they could somewhat wound the dragon.
At least they'd be able to protect the city before it was razed.
"Damn it," Balgruuf muttered, drawing his sword and moving to the door to the porch. "Ambassador, over here!" The Justiciars didn't move. Useless, slimy elves.
He stood back, waiting for the door to be forced open with some Shout, maybe it would turn to ash before his very eyes. Instead, it opened gently. The Dragonborn hobbled through, supporting herself on a grand staff and wearing oversized grey robes.
"Oh, hello Jarl," she spoke as if she was greeting him on the street. His Thane smiled at him and then scanned the room, observing the Thalmor party behind him. "Apologies if I'm interrupting something important, there was nowhere else to land."
Perhaps arriving on the back of a dragon with no warning wasn't the most appropriate way to arrive after a long absence, but she wasn't walking down the Seven Thousand Steps in her condition, and she wanted to make an impression. Nariilu hadn't considered the Thalmor would be in Whiterun, much less their head bitch, but she was thankful she got to see Elenwen's shocked look as she realized her method of travel.
Even better was her frantic repositioning when Nariilu invited Odahviing to poke his massive head through the doors. "Drem yol lok," he grumbled. The Thalmor soldiers, all twelve of them, drew their weapons. Elven swords, all standard issue, just like their armor. And four Justiciars, two with staffs, two without, scrambling to stand alongside Elenwen. Four. Nariilu hadn't seen this many Thalmor in one place since she killed half the Embassy.
"Jarl, what kind of…stunt is this?" Elenwen sputtered, and Nariilu's heart swelled as the woman had to search for words.
Jarl Balgruuf called for the alarm to stop, called for his court to return. "This stunt?" Nariilu spoke before the Jarl had a chance to answer. "I didn't have the money for a carriage. Don't worry about the dragon; Odahviing and his army answer to me, now."
"Then it's done?" Jarl Balgruuf asked. His eyes were wide and he blinked a few times. "Alduin is dead?"
"And his Soul was delicious," Nariilu lied. She shifted her weight to her other foot, her legs were beginning to go numb. "Well! I won't take up any more of your time. My Jarl, if you'd ask your guard not to attack Odahviing should you see him, I'd be very grateful."
"I…alright."
Elenwen seemed to finally find her tongue. "Allying yourself with the dragons, now?"
"I am a dragon," Nariilu answered, "with Akatosh's own blood flowing in my veins. Be ready when I call, Odahviing. Enjoy your meeting."
And she tried to move to the stairs as smoothly as possible, but her staff dragged and clanked along the floor, and Farengar and Proventus climbed the stairs just as she reached them. "You're back!" Farengar exclaimed.
"Yes, I'm back," Nariilu muttered. "I'll take my leave." She pushed past them; they stepped aside for her to take each step too slowly.
The Jarl apologized to the Thalmor delegation behind her, dismissing them. "I believe you're uncompromising in your actions, Emissary. There is no more to negotiate here than scheduling and lodging. Discuss the rest with my steward."
Proventus cursed under his breath and hurried the rest of the way up the stairs as Elenwen protested behind them. The unmistakable flapping of powerful wings sounded; Odahviing had flown off. Farengar wouldn't be too happy about that-or maybe he would. Nariilu smirked, remembering that day on the Porch. And then she swallowed a lump in her throat.
Guards filed in through the Dragonsreach enterance, pausing to gawk at her as they moved back to their posts. She almost felt bad for causing a false alarm, but she had never been opposed to a drill for her own soldiers. It kept them on their toes.
"Nariilu," Jarl Balgruuf said, sounding just behind her. Of course he'd caught up easily; she was moving at a snail's pace even with the walking staff. "What happened? You look half-dead."
"Well, you certainly know how to talk to a woman," Nariilu replied, not stopping on her quest for the door. She'd stop by the Temple of Kynareth first, get some health potions, then straight to Breezehome. Lydia'd probably be there, and she'd be able to catch up on everything that'd happened in her absence. Stormcloak would be there too-right? No, he was probably somewhere far away, taking advantage of his opportunity away from her to leave, to be his own man in his own foolhardy way. Which meant she was right back at square one for unweaving Skyrim's stupid politics.
"I'm not in a joking mood."
"And I feel worse than I look." Jarl Balgruuf circled around her, placing himself in her path. His arms were crossed and he looked furious. No, he looked tired. Depressed. The same way he'd looked when Stormcloak's siege began, right before she sprinted onto the plains. "I'm not discussing this here, not right now. It seems you have bigger troubles than I do, and I need to find out where my assets stand before I can help you."
"Ulfric's alive, if that's what you're curious of," the Jarl said. Nariilu felt a weight fly from her chest. At the very least, there was that. Whether he'd stay by her side or not was the real question. She was just about ready to begin her true quest, her true destiny. "First Emissary Elenwen very nearly killed him when she arrived in the city yesterday. They're about to start arresting my citizens. Executing them. I don't have the luxury of time on my side."
Nariilu paused. "Meet me at Breezehome at sundown. We can consider options then," she said. The Jarl nodded. "I hope I can help you," she added.
"You've got to be kidding me." Lydia sounded astonished over the dragon alarm. She shielded her eyes from the sun with her sword arm, staring up at the dragon flying ahead. Ulfric didn't know why he scrambled outside alongside her; he'd be near useless in a dragon fight with his sword arm bound as tightly as it was.
The dragon circled towards Dragonsreach, distinctive red scales and white wings glinting in the mid-morning light. A dark figure contrasted against the light sky, against Odahviing's bright scales. And then the alarm stopped just as suddenly as it started. Ulfric took off in a sprint towards Dragonsreach, ignoring the sharp pain that spiked through his right leg with every step and Lydia's calls for him to slow down.
He didn't quite know why he was running, but greeting someone who'd likely just returned from Sovngarde of all places was an easy rationality for him. Divines, here was his excuse to get into Dragonsreach, to listen in on that delegation. Here was perhaps the only woman in all of Nirn who hated the Thalmor as much as he did. Maybe she'd kill the delegation before he even reached the Wind District, but she'd leave Elenwen alive for him to deliver the final blow.
He was breathless when he got to the Wind District, an echo of Danica Purespring's orders to rest for a few days nagging him briefly before he tossed that advice from his thoughts. And there she was, emerging from the Temple of Kynareth in Greybeard robes that were far too big for her, resting her weight on an ornate staff that was as tall as her with her right hand, sipping a red potion with her left. He froze, watching her grimace in pain with every move she made.
The Dragonborn adjusted the straps to a sack on her right shoulder before moving towards him, her eyes focused on the ancient stones beneath her feet. He didn't blame her; her robes were too long and she was unsteady and the stones were uneven. She looked gaunt, though perhaps that was an effect of the oversized robes, and a portion of her hair was missing in a horrific scar unlike anything Ulfric had ever seen before that ran its way up from her neck, past her cheek and ear, and into her scalp. The same kind of scar extended to her hands and arms where her sleeves fell away, leaving them a mottled pink and grey.
She'd met the end of the world and lived to tell about it.
Something hit him on the shoulder; Ulfric realized it was Lydia jogging past him. "Nariilu!" She called, and the Dragonborn looked up with an exhausted smile. Lydia took her sack, letting the Dragonborn straighten, and offered her free shoulder to help her walk, exchanging words Ulfric couldn't make out over the plaza. The Dragonborn waved her away, and greeted her with a one-armed hug.
They pulled away, and Lydia pointed back towards him. The Dragonborn looked over, her eyes still as bright and piercing as they'd been in the Palace of Kings. She squared her shoulders, glancing him over and meeting his eyes, and her face relaxed where it could around her scars. And then the Dragonborn mouthed clear as day, even from a hundred feet away, "You're still here."
"You've much bigger plans for me," Ulfric whispered back.
Thanks for reading! Any comments, criticism, questions are more than welcome 3 This story now has a sequel: Dragon's Nature.
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