Lovaasmah (Coda)
"Ugh, the passage is so vague! It makes it sound like Olaf One-Eye was a dragon!"
"Hey - that's not a bad idea!"
"It's not like people can't become dragons, so-"
"O-kay, we need to re-focus the enthusiasm," I raised my voice to be heard over the tutorial group. The chatter died down.
"You present interesting ideas from a plot perspective," I said warmly. "The task, however, is to appeal to the High Queen so she might agree to let us hold the festival this year."
"But the High Queen would appreciate the ruler of Solitude being a dragon!" words burst out of the rambunctious, red-headed Oriella. "Nobody's done that before!"
"True," I suppressed a wince. "But perhaps not the most diplomatic approach, given King Olaf's betrayal of Solitude."
"Oh," Oriella's eyes widened.
"And it cancels Numinex's role in the story," Sonir, Oriella's older cousin, added in her muted tones. She cast me a brief look. "I don't think it'd be right to appropriate or exclude the dovah's part."
"A dovah King Olaf kills," Llewellyn sighed, head flopping back to eye the ceiling. "Maybe we could, I dunno. Have Olaf cut a deal with Numinex."
"Then we're back to a dragon betraying Solitude," Talsgar hummed.
"What is the diplomatic solution?" Llewellyn asked, frustrated. "Can't you give us a hint?"
Four pairs of eyes turned to me expectantly, and I bit my bottom lip to hide my smile. Memories of this exact quandary came back to me, a few years prior when I'd been set the same group task in Dean Gemane's class.
"That's the challenge: there isn't one."
The answer came from the open doorway, and the third-years turned.
"How can we do the assignment if there's no answer?" Llewellyn exclaimed, indignant.
I smiled at Ataf, standing against the door arch dressed in his teaching robes. "Thank you, Dean Rashka," I greeted. "Will you join us?" I motioned to an empty chair. "The Dean of Creative Writing's take on the moral greys of Olaf's story would be invaluable."
"Why not?" Ataf smiled back, the same wide, open smile he'd always had. He took a seat across from me at the round table. "Been a while since I've looked at the tale of King Olaf."
Sonir sat forward, elbow on the table, propping her chin on her hand. "So Sir, are you saying no matter which way we look at it, there's no tasteful way to interpret King Olaf's history?"
Ataf gave a shrug. "Depends on how deeply you're willing to explore his story. Remember, this is a man we want to burn an effigy of," he laughed.
Talsgar tilted his head, then flicked his blonde curls off his forehead. "So we need to change his history for the sake of our own goals? That's not right."
"But King Olaf's history was largely erased," Oriella piped up. "And next year's third-years will devise a different story, too. It hardly matters what we come up with," the girl half-shrugged.
"Then why are we bothering?" Llewellyn groaned, leaning down to thunk his head against the table.
"Because it does matter," I insisted. "If for no other reason, that it gives you an opportunity to perform in the High Queen's court and bring prestige to the College."
"Think of it like this," Ataf proposed, ever the mediator. "King Olaf, however we remember him, was a real man."
"Or a real dragon."
"Ori!" Sonir hissed.
Ataf's lips quirked. "He was once a boy, innocent, with hopes and dreams."
Smiling, I sat back and watched Ataf in his element. I was ever-grateful for his friendship, and with his position at the College, his confidence had grown to meet his affable nature. My only regret was I hadn't been able to graduate with him, but then, I'd been a little busy at the time.
"Get into that boy's head," Ataf continued. "Develop his story, knowing what we do about history. What happened during his lifetime to lead him down the path of betrayal he eventually chose?"
"Maybe he was an evil brat who didn't like anyone having more power than him?" Oriella murmured.
"Maybe," Ataf smiled. "But look. The best lesson you can learn as a Bard is that despite what some stories try to tell you, there is no such thing as pure good and pure evil. Our lives and emotions colour our actions, and each and every being believes they are the voice of righteousness. Examining, consolidating choices and why they were made is what breathes life into a character, even eons after they've departed."
Ataf's words sparked discussion, and for a time I was able to sit and listen as the third-years let their imaginations run wild. After about fifteen minutes of chatter, the bell rang to signal the end of classes for the day.
The group left, Oriella's ideas still spilling out of her at double-speed. I smiled after them and started tidying the room.
Ataf rose and pushed a couple of chairs in. "Ah, Celeste. I can do this, if you want," he offered. "Don't you have a graduation to be getting ready for?"
I laughed at the floor, nerves making my belly flutter.
"It's so strange, Ataf," I tucked the history verses back onto the shelves. "In a few hours, I'll be a Master Bard," I murmured idly.
"About time," Ataf scoffed. "Only took you ten years."
"Six, thank you," I wrinkled my nose at him. "And - I wasn't exactly idle."
My friend laughed. "Are your parents on their way?"
His mirth tugged my thoughts back to the now. "The whole family's coming up to Solitude."
"All of them?" Ataf gaped. "Even Giselle?"
"She's bringing Lydia and the twins," I gave him a sideways glance; it was no secret my sister avoided Solitude. "We're having a family party, up at the Palace, before the ceremony. The Blue Palace courtyard can accommodate about fifteen dragons at a time now, you know?"
"Maybe if they stand on each other's backs," Ataf countered.
Ataf walked me down to the entryway, all laughs and positivity, and I left the Bard's College for the last time as a student. We parted on the road, he for his home and I for the Blue Palace.
It was the height of Mid Year, and the sun was hours away from dipping below the wall, the sky an endless blue painted with high brush strokes of white cloud. I breathed in the salty sea-air, passing my childhood home with a warm smile, dusting my palm against the soft white blooms bobbing in a street-side window box. The three-story manor and gardens had belonged to the College for nearly five years now, with several of the shared walls toppled to join the buildings properly. When I'd first gifted it to the school, many internal renovations had taken place; my old bedroom was currently the Dean of Lute's office.
As her Thane, Elisif had gifted me quarters in the Blue Palace, and I made for those now, calling hello to the guards on gate duty, smiling at the officer who opened the main door for me, and slipping down the side hallway that led to my rooms.
'Wing' might have been a more appropriate descriptor. With a grand outdoor porch equipped to house any of my dovah family who happened to be visiting, the rooms were tall and elegantly-dressed, as much of Solitude was.
I stood in the doorway, taking in the white walls and high ceilings and polished furniture, the sheer white curtains framing views of the ocean beyond. Silence settled around me and my eyes fell to a mannequin stood at an open window wearing my deep-blue graduation robes, shifting in the breeze. A lump swelled in my throat, and I stepped toward the robes, my mind spinning with love and longing, bittersweet happiness and hope.
"A goodbye is a happy thing. It lets you show those you love how much you will miss them."
"And what if there is no reunion? What if this goodbye is the last?"
"Nobody knows when their last goodbye will be."
I huffed, reaching out to take the wrist of my robes, rubbing the fine stitching between my fingers, and the memory continued. I could picture Hadvar, stood on the bridge out of Riverwood; I could smell the clean air, the mountain wildflowers, the earth being churned by the river.
"We drink to our youth, to days come and gone," I sang quietly, drifting off as I took the robes off the mannequin and lay them out on the bed.
"For the age of aggression is just about done," came from the doorway.
My heart swelled and I glanced up. Hadvar stood in the entry, his red hair tied back in a topknot, wearing a beautiful smile that reached his eyes.
"You're here!" I ran to him, fell into his embrace, closing my eyes as his warm strength enveloped me.
"I'm here," he said with a contented sigh. "Ralof flew me up. How are you feeling?"
"Good, I'm really good," the urge to cry happy tears overtook me. "I missed you."
Hadvar squeezed me closer. "Three weeks," he huffed into my hair. "Love, it's just - far too long."
"I know," I retreated, apologetic, hands drifting down his arms. They looked so good in this tunic, still as strong as the day I had met him. "The final lute assessment was a beast," I leaned forward, my forehead thunking on his chest. "I'm so glad it's over."
Hadvar made an understanding sound and pulled me into another hug. "You've worked so hard. It's big, becoming a Master," he rumbled. "Bigger than saving the world, in some ways."
I laughed, shook my head fondly, but let him continue.
"I'm sorry, but it is," he hushed around a chuckle. "Being Dragonborn was a duty, one you rose to meet when the mantle was thrust upon you. Being a Bard - you chose that. You did this," his eyes found mine, warm and kind.
"I'm proud of you," he continued, quieter, as devoted storm-grey stared at me. "And - if you want to stay on, at the College, even once the baby is born -" a hand lowered, his palm pressed to my abdomen, where a life we had created fluttered and a barely-discernible bump was beginning to show - "we can work something out. I know you don't like calling on them to fly you around but I'm certain Odahviing would bring you home frequently if you asked, or we can all move to Solitude-"
I bit my lip through a wince. A lot had happened in the past three weeks, including a lot of thinking about how I wanted our family to work.
"I didn't take the job."
"What?" Hadvar's brows crossed, confused. "Celeste, no. Dean of Languages, the role was made for you. We'll move here and I'll take care of the baby while you-"
"It's not the right time," I shrugged, smiling to show him I was certain. "I want to be with you, with our baby, and close to our family and friends, and their children. And I've been made another offer, very generous, a residency close to home which I intend to accept, once we've had time to consider what it might mean for us."
Hadvar's smile was tentative, but full of hope. "Whiterun?" he whispered.
Whiterun had been our home for the past five years, as much as it could be when the army continued to require his expertise and my dragon advocacy took me all over Nirn.
Once his contract with the army had ended a year ago, he declined renewal, and Jarl Balgruuf had promptly made him a Thane of the Hold, so we had moved into my rooms at Dragonsreach. With Dorthe and Sigrid at Breezehome, with Alvor established as the blacksmith of the Skyforge (for who better to take on Eorlund's mantle than a dragon?), with Lydia and Lucia moved into Jorrvaskr and Vilkas leading the Companions, Hadvar took some much-needed recovery time, surrounded by friends and family. We had talked then, of going to Riften, but I'd been drawn into a dispute between a native dragon and Jarl Onmund, so we agreed Riften would (yet again) have to wait.
Whiterun was a home, gifting us all the warmth we could have ever wanted.
But it was time to forge our own home; time to start our own family.
"It's Whiterun, isn't it?" Hadvar repeated, eyes aglow. "Ysolda has finally kicked Mikael to the curb."
I shook my head, heart bursting with joy.
"It's a residency in…Riverwood."
"Riverwood?"
I laughed at his shock; by the Gods, he was adorable. "Sven's coming to the College, to teach, so I asked for his old job at the Sleeping Giant. Orgnar accepted, so all that is left is to check it works with your idea of our future and-"
Hadvar tried to stop an incredulous laugh, briefly looking to the open door leading to the balcony facing the sea. "Yes. It's - it's good," he swallowed thickly. "That's…amazing," he glanced back to me.
"It is amazing I found a job, I know," I teased, looping my hands over his shoulders, fingers finding the sensitive spot he loved at the back of his neck. "There's an oversupply of bards in Skyrim these days," I sighed with an eye-roll.
He laughed quietly and leaned forward, cupping my cheek gently. "Now that is your own doing," he murmured. "Many follow in your footsteps, Lady Dragonborn."
I closed my eyes, leant into his hand. "My apologies for being a terrible influence on society, General Reidarsson."
I felt his laugh as a warm breath. He kissed me softly, a kiss full of wonder and love. I pressed closer as three weeks of missing him flowed through me.
His fingers tightened and he leaned back, eyes still closed as his breaths fell on my lips. "Graduation," he managed.
"Hadvar," I brushed my nose against his. "Three weeks."
"Celeste," he gave a puffing, apologetic laugh. "They'll come looking for you. Gods, your parents could land on the balcony at any moment."
Sighing dramatically, I turned, leaning against his chest to stare at the graduation gown on my bed. "All right, I'll get ready," I conceded, loosening the ties holding the sides of my tunic-dress together.
His hands fell to my hips, and he pressed his lips lightly to my shoulder. "I can help, if you wish."
A quiet laugh escaped me and I glanced back and lifted an eyebrow.
I didn't need to say anything; his whole face lit up when he laughed, his eyes bright and playful.
"Point taken," with a squeeze he stepped around me, to sit on the edge of my bed. I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously, before turning to the task ahead.
Despite the lure of Hadvar, I managed to dress for graduation, then sat at a mirror to do my hair. Hadvar caught me up on Jarl duties in my absence from Whiterun. We had exchanged a few letters of course, but nothing compared to the soft, lilting accent telling me for himself.
Once my hair had been tamed into braids and the tails wound into a substantial bun at the back of my neck, Hadvar and I made for Elisif's courtyard and my pre-graduation party, it being the only open-air space large enough to accomodate the dragons flying in.
Hadvar wound his arm around my back to hold my waist as I stopped in the archway to observe the gathering before we were noticed. The courtyard had changed significantly, extended with awnings raised or removed entirely to accomodate any dragon who wished to speak to Jarl Torygg.
When I had brought Torygg to Solitude, Jarl Elisif, quite astonished and uncertain about the appearance of a dragon who had once been her husband, had sought advice from all corners of Skyrim regarding the expectations of the realm in the wake of their returned, but forever changed, High King. While it was agreed a dragon could not serve as the High King of men, it was during this discussion the moot unanimously decided to make Elisif High Queen of Skyrim, and she had requested Torygg remain as her advisor and Jarl of Dragonkind.
The Thalmor had advised against this, but with Nirn on Elisif's side and talk of the new Empress of Cyrodiil taking on a dragon advisor for herself, the Altmer had begrudgingly accepted, entertaining the whim of the barbarians as reward for their petty victory against the other barbarians. Their voices had largely quietened with the delivery of the last two remaining members of the Blades, delivered to the Embassy doorstep by Odahviing himself. Nowdays, the Altmer ambassadors almost seemed to prefer working with dragonkind.
And so Elisif and Torygg had been instrumental in paving a path of acceptance within the city, and over time we established a charter to promote peace between the citizens of Skyrim and the Dovah.
I could see the High Queen now, standing beside a lavish, carved fountain. The centre-piece was a dragon, its tail coiled about a large wolf standing at its base, both protected by, and protecting each other. It was situated under a high wooden frame on which verdant ivies tangled, and the sunlight filtering though the leaves made the stone forms shimmer in shades of green and yellow.
Elisif looked as lovely as ever, her golden hair unbound and flowing down her back in delicate waves, but for a small section at the top wound into her crown. Her almost two-year-old son and heir, Harald, was propped on her hip; he pushed his inky-black curls aside to rub one eye tiredly.
"I can take him," I heard Farkas rumble, and the High Queen's consort reached out to accept their little son, dwarfing the boy with his huge arms. Harald only yawned and burrowed his face into his father's neck.
The love in the exchange, in Elisif and Farkas' eyes as they smiled at one another, made my heart clench with joy.
Someday, when they were ready, I would help him and Vilkas say goodbye to their wolves, but the choice had to be mutual, and I was determined to make it not a wrenching, painful separation of souls as Kodlak had experienced, but a peaceful moment of thanks, and farewell.
It was a duty for another time. For now, my brother was so in love, and his wolf was at peace, fiercely devoted to his family.
"We'll have one of those soon," I murmured to Hadvar, nodding toward little Harald.
"Mmm," his arm around my back tightened, squeezing me closer to him, and his lips touched my ear. "I can't wait to meet our baby."
I smiled, half turning to meet his gaze, lifting a hand to his cheek. "Soon, love. Little less than six months," I whispered.
His eyes filled with tears, and he nodded, leaning into my touch. It was the same reaction he had when I told him, three weeks prior, that I was fairly certain I was almost a whole month pregnant.
"Can we tell anyone yet?" he whispered. "I want to tell the world."
I huffed. "Farkas sensed as soon as I arrived and I swore him to secrecy. Unsurprisingly, Torygg knows - and I don't think there'll be any keeping it from the dovah, once they pay attention. Oh," I flushed. "Him, they say," I should have told Hadvar the moment he arrived at my room. "Farkas told me, two days ago, and Torygg started saying rok instead of rek last night. I didn't want to tell you in a letter."
"A son?" Hadvar's eyes snapped open, wide and shocked. "We're having a boy?" he burst out.
"We're having a son," I nodded, shushing him. "Vilkas, Giselle, Alvor, Ralof and my parents will pick up on him as soon as they are near, so I expect the whole of Skyrim will know by tomorrow morning."
His smile was radiant and he held my face between his hands. "So we can tell everyone?"
I nodded, not surprised to find my eyes full of tears too, so overwhelming was his joy. "We might as well," I laughed quietly. "But first I would like some food."
"Whatever you want," Hadvar pulled me into a hug. "Anything you want, my love," he sighed into my hair, "mother of our son," he murmured.
The poignant moment was shattered by an ear-splitting screech as two small bodies and one large whooshed by us.
"Give it back!"
"Why bother? You're such a milk-drinker Hilda, you can't even swing it properly-"
"Shut up Yrsa, dad gave it to me, give it back!"
"Hi dukaan hin brod voth daar krif - ni wahl zu'u Thu'um hi!" (You dishonour your family with this fighting - don't make me Shout at you!)
"See? Kahrolein will - ag hi fod hi ni hon!" (-burn you if you don't listen!) the furious Hilda stomped her little foot, slipping into dovahzul so naturally she hadn't appeared to notice.
"Nyaaaa!" Yrsa paused long enough to poke her tongue out at the pair pursuing her; her twin, and their frequent playmate, Giselle's daughter Kahrolein.
The barefoot raven-haired five-year-olds bolted on with my exasperated niece coiling after them, past the High Queen's family, Yrsa leaping into and through the fountain before darting out, water streaming from the hem of her finest tunic. Yrsa clutched a small wooden sword tight to her chest and Hilda, green eyes wide with indignation, raced after her, the beaded braids in her hair clacking. Kahrolein, doubtless frustrated with the pair of them, changed direction and nosed her way under Hilda, tossing the girl into the air.
This didn't phase anybody in the courtyard, much less the five-year-old, who merely twisted her body a little and caught Kahrolein's emerging horns as she landed soundly on the dragon's back.
"We'll get you now!" Hilda yelled, leant over Kahrolein's neck with her eyes narrowed at her retreating twin.
The High Queen and Farkas chuckled as the feisty trio chased each other around a table.
"Yrsa you will stop tormenting your sister or Giselle will fly us home this instant!" came Vilkas' bellow. My other brother stormed across the courtyard after his troublesome twin daughters, and Lydia drifted after him, a long-suffering expression on her face and Lucia holding her arm.
They stopped by Farkas and Elisif, and Lydia rubbed at her back briefly with a wince as she watched Vilkas' attempts to corral their whirlwind girls and my whirlwind niece.
"Should I go help papa?" Lucia asked, wrinkling her nose with fond amusement.
"No, no. He has it under control," Lydia sighed.
A smiling Elisif lay a consoling hand on Lydia's shoulder. "How are you feeling? You look ready to burst."
"I feel ready to burst," Lydia rolled her eyes, an arm draped over her enormous pregnant belly; "I didn't feel this overblown with two girls fighting for space inside of me," she winced.
She was due the moon after next, and her belly protruded like a ball, much lower than I remembered her being when I'd left Whiterun three weeks prior, and I wondered that she hadn't delivered already. I couldn't wait to tell her we might raise our sons together.
Elisif and Lydia started talking the perils of carrying Jergensson sons, and I made to move toward them, deciding I had observed long enough and keen to share our news before I was swept up by the graduation ceremony.
Before I had taken a single step, Hadvar's warning hand on my arm stilled me.
I stared at him swiftly, for there was much caution in the motion, to see his eyes locked on something beyond us, on the eastern side of the courtyard.
I followed his gaze and saw my sister, her scales shimmering in the afternoon sun. Giselle's sea-blue eyes were pinned on Hadvar and her nostrils flared, large and agitated.
"Zeymah," (Brother,) she growled. "Aan rot." (A word.)
Rolling my eyes, I took Hadvar's hand firmly in mine and approached her.
"Surprise," I drawled once we were near enough.
"Briinah," (Sister,) Giselle pushed her scaled nose toward me, nudging gently at my abdomen. "Kravein," (Nephew,) she whispered in greeting.
"I was about to tell the others," I placed my hand on her in return greeting.
"While I am not surprised," my sister lifted her head, eyes flaring at Hadvar in accusation. "Hi dreh mein aavlaas dii briinah us dii kravein los kiin?" (You do plan to wed my sister before my nephew is born?)
"Fod tiid vos, ahrk hin briinah hindde nii," (If time allows, and your sister wishes it,) Hadvar gave her a nervous half-smile.
"Helt nii," (Stop it,) I told Giselle, narrowing my eyes. She loved Hadvar, but also revelled in the presence she owned as a looming, booming dov. "Like you can lecture anybody about marriage, briinah," I snarked.
Giselle lifted her head and huffed; steam puffed from her nose.
"Ni mindok fos losei tinvaak do," (Don't know what you're talking of,) another voice joined us, another dragon with ash-yellow scales. Ralof was a larger dragon than my sister, and leant his head down to nudge at her neck gently with his nose. "Kolos los un kul, lokalaat?" (Where is our son, beloved?)
"Bo fin staal, lokalaat," (Flying the port, beloved,) Giselle replied smoothly, rubbing her head on Ralof's neck. It was a dragon instinct I'd learned was an exchange of scents and story, as much as an act of affection.
I felt Hadvar's tension ease at Ralof's arrival, and I smiled up at the pair of dragons, so striking in the sunlight, wondering at the impossible and tragic turn of events which had brought them together.
It had not been long after our return from Sovngarde that they had paired. Initially I assumed it meant they'd put what passed in their human lives behind them, but what had been surprising to discover was how well they had known each other in that time, and the true circumstances of the Stormcloak soldier's death by Ulfric's order.
It had been after Helgen, after meeting me, that Ralof had realised who Ulfric's favoured General really was. Undeterred by him knowing the truth, Ulfric assigned Ralof as Giselle's bodyguard whenever she went afield.
For Giselle's part, lamenting the realisation she was not, in fact, the Dragonborn and was carrying Ulfric's child for no reason except he wished to control her and destroy what she could have had with Onmund, Ralof's kindness took her by surprise, as the Stormcloaks despised and feared her. Lonely and quite unused to affection, Giselle encouraged Ralof, and they forged a tentative, largely unexplored friendship.
Ulfric had found out about their closeness almost at once, for he seemed to have ears everywhere, and misinterpreted it for romantic. Jealous of Giselle's eyes turning to anyone but him, he fabricated the lie about Ralof being mother's murderer, and ordered Giselle to kill Ralof publicly.
It was a horrible petty move by a sad, petty man who would continue to lash out whenever he felt control slipping through his fingers. Of course it was this narcissism that had led to his demise, and ultimately, after a trial, his execution.
Recalling what Ataf told my tutorial students that afternoon, I tried to apply his advice to Ulfric's life, tried to reason how he had gone from a once innocent boy to a tyrannical, jealous man with little value for life beyond how it might serve his goals.
I couldn't do it; each time I attempted to figure him out, I failed. Perhaps I was too close to the events that shaped the last portion of his life, so I could never hope to be objective. While it was my goal to write the tale of Giselle Passero someday, the tale of Ulfric Stormcloak would have to be tackled by a wiser and braver Bard than I.
It turned my stomach to think on that time of my sister's life, her will eroded, full of secrets and deceit, but the two dragons told of their coming together seemingly unbothered by such wearisome emotions as regret. Giselle and Ralof found one another in the end, and that was that. Their son, whom they named Daanteyvo, had hatched before my twenty-first birthday, and he was every bit as beautiful as his half-sister, though much more inclined to wandering.
And now it was my and Hadvar's turn to join those extending their families since the war ended and Sovngarde was freed. I had no idea who our son would be, but I hoped, as was with Hilda and Ysra and little Harald, he would be a friend to the dragons.
Eventually, Daanteyvo decided to grace us with his presence, and the young dragon yawned and curled up under one of the tables just as Sigrid and Dorthe arrived on Alvor. My parents were the last to join us, and after sharing the news with the party (despite half of said party being able to sense the news), we endured their loving teasing and whoops and celebrations.
Then I returned to the Bard's College with the human portion of my family on foot. The dragons took flight, and I laughed with glee as they spiralled about the Bard's College, where they had vowed to continue circling until I was declared a Master.
The sight of them whirling high above reminded me of the Battle for Windhelm, and of my return from Sovngarde to the peak at High Hrothgar, and something sad but sweet settled in me. Perhaps all my endings would involve a flurry of dragon wings, for while my life as a student had begun long before I knew I was Dragonborn, it now, too, was drawing to its end.
"Are you okay?" Hadvar asked softly.
I turned my attention to him, my love, father of our child, and the tightness in my chest squeezed tighter.
"Do any of us truly like saying good-bye?" I whispered.
"I understand," he responded, a comforting hand on my back. His expression was thoughtful, and he looked up to watch my family leap and whirl over Solitude.
"I try not to think of it as good-bye anymore," he told me quietly, "but…hello, to the next chapter of life. There are adventures still in your future," his gaze returned to me, endearing and playful. "Our future," he smiled.
I stared at him, his beautiful words a balm on the ache to my heart. He was right, and I was so glad to have walked the adventure that led us to each other.
"What?" he asked with suspicion, his laugh self-conscious.
I shook my head in wonder and smiled, standing on my toes to wrap my arms around his shoulders.
"I just love the way your mind works."
"I mean it," Hadvar's smile widened, his eyes bright and hopeful. "I can't wait to live our next adventure, together."
I leant up, gently touched his nose with mine, and a fresh spark of giddy excitement made me grin.
"Likewise," I whispered.
A/n: That's it, that's the book :) happy new year!
I hope you feel I did the characters justice, and that this little slice of their lives 6 years later makes sense. There's not much to say except, thank you for joining me on a journey that took me much further than I expected when Sarina's descendant demanded her story be told back in 2016. As with most of my Skyrim playthroughs, Celeste's tale got away from me but made the adventure richer for it. Thank you for your encouragement and comments over the years, and for enduring the WAITS between chapters when my life and work took up all my free time. It's been great, a very interesting and rewarding experience to actually complete something so big and complicated, and I can't quite believe it's over. The coda has been a while coming because I was trying to say goodbye, and wrap my head around the fact I didn't need to plot and plan her journey to save the dragons any longer!
What's next, wiring-wise? I'll probably take a break from Elder Scrolls to finish some other fics long overdue for updates, and try work on some original fiction as well.
