"Dragonborn."
The council was over and everyone was ready to leave the ancient halls.
Minerva turned to the sound of Delphine calling her name. The Blades agent looked troubled and Minerva went to her.
Delphine looked around and waited for Tullius and Elisif to pass, their arms intertwined as they kept their attention forward. They both looked as though they were holding back their rage.
When no one was nearby, Delphine leaned in closer, whispering, "We know about Paarthurnax."
At first, Minerva didn't understand, until realization dawned upon her. Hopefully, she didn't know about Paarthurnax's true nature.
"So?" Minerva raised an eyebrow.
Delphine crossed her arms, looking frustrated as she elaborated, "We know the Greybeard's are hiding a dragon on top of the mountain. Not just any dragon, but Alduin's brother."
Minerva remained silent as she waited for the agent to finish her thoughts.
The demand was sharp and clear when she admitted, "We want you to do the right thing. Paarthurnax has to pay for his crimes."
Minerva didn't like the sound of it. Paarthurnax was Alduin's brother and he did very cruel things during the Dragon War; but he'd helped the people to learn the Thu'um to put an end to Alduin's tyranny. In a way, he was responsible for Alduin's downfall.
Minerva hoped she could somehow reason with her. "He's helped mankind to learn the Thu'um. Doesn't that count for something?"
Delphine was quick to retort, "No. He did cruel and terrible things during the war. He cannot be trusted, and you know this. I want you to do the right thing, or else."
"Or else what?" Minerva challenged, crossing her arms.
Delphine came into her face when she threatened, "Or else we are going to finish the job."
Shooting a pointed look at Minerva, Delphine left. The audacity of that woman, Minerva shook her head as she watched the Blades depart. However, it did make her wonder how she planned to take the path up the mountain without wielding the Clear Skies shout.
"What a glorious day."
Vignar spoke from behind her and Minerva turned to face him. Grinning widely, he placed his hand on Minerva's shoulder, "As promised, Dragonborn, you have Dragonsreach at your disposal."
"Thank you," she said firmly, and tensed as she watched Ulfric and Galmar approach them.
"Now with the treaty in place," Ulfric started when they both stopped close to them, "I'm certain Vignar will do everything in his might to aid you."
"Of course, of course. I will add more fortifications to the city and have additional guards placed around Dragonsreach." He turned to Ulfric, "I will be on my way, then. Preparations can't start soon enough."
With that he departed, leaving the ancient halls. Galmar followed him out, leaving Minerva and Ulfric alone.
He looked sincere, with a small smile curling his lips. There was a faint light in his eyes, one which she identified as hope. "Again, I am in your debt, Dragonborn. This meeting brought us more than we could ever hope."
Minerva felt heat rising to her cheeks at his praise as she humbly retorted, "We all do what is right for Skyrim," to which the Jarl smiled.
"Dovahkiin."
Both Minerva and Ulfric turned to find Arngeir standing not a few feet away. "May I have a word with you?" he requested respectfully.
"Of course. What is it?" she faced the elder Greybeard.
Arngeir's eyes moved for a second to Ulfric before he looked at her. She caught the irritation in his voice when he admitted, "The matter is urgent and I need to speak to you alone."
It made her wonder what was so important he couldn't speak about it in front of Ulfric. The two may not be on the best of terms, but he could still trust the Jarl of Windhelm.
"Jarl Ulfric is a trustworthy man, Arngeir," she stated, but Arngeir didn't seem to share her thoughts of him.
"Yes, I'm sure he is," he muttered unconvinced, "Still, this is a delicate matter. So if you would please follow me."
She sighed, and followed Arngeir so they could talk privately.
"Master Arngeir."
Both stopped and turned their attention to Ulfric. He stood with his utmost respect for the elder Greybeard, his hands to his back when he requested, "I wish to pray in the halls before we take our leave."
Minerva looked to Arngeir whose expression was as cold as ice. She expected him to usher Ulfric out of High Hrothgar, but surprised her when he agreed instead.
"If you must," he said with a sigh.
Ulfric bowed his head and left down the corridor.
Minerva followed Arngeir out to the courtyard, and as soon as she stepped out with him she knew why he requested she went with him alone. Paarthurnax was waiting for her, and taught her the Shout to call the dragon that would help her find Alduin. Their repartee was shortlived and soon the dragon flew back to the top of the mountain, wishing her the utmost luck.
"You must understand, Dovahkiin, Paarthurnax is not to be revealed to the world."
Arngeir stated, but was quick to elaborate further, "I know you trust Jarl Ulfric, but there is no telling what he might do if he found out about Paarthurnax."
Minerva crossed her arms as she regarded the Greybeard, giving him her full attention. "You mean he would use him to wage war," she summarised, and knew she was right because his face stiffened.
"You are Dovahkiin, you shouldn't favour anyone," he bit back, "Especially not the boy who dared to use his voice to murder!"
Minerva couldn't hold back her own frustration. "Yes, I am Dovahkiin, but I can't sit idle and watch how my home is being reinvented by a race that isn't even living here. And that boy is now a grown man reshaping the world!"
She noticed they were arguing and that was the last thing Minerva wanted. She inhaled deeply and tried again, sounding and feeling much calmer, "I respect the Way of the Voice, Arngeir, and so does Ulfric. But war sadly requires drastic actions."
He still didn't look convinced, but his rough features softened a little and Minerva decided to drop the matter. She moved past him and towards the doors, her gaze glued to the engravings of it.
The door opened and shut with a loud creak and she walked inside further. She reached the hall with the grand table and glanced to her left, to the corridor Ulfric had disappeared. At first, she desired to follow the same path, but now she decided not to disturb him. This would perhaps be the last time he visited the halls so she refrained from following him.
So she left High Hrothgar. As she walked down the stairs she spotted Galmar seated on a log.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to go to him. Galmar's eyes were following her steadily, all until she leaned her rear on a boulder next to him, crossing her arms and legs. He was chewing on a piece of dried meat.
The snow didn't fall which would make the descend easier.
"I was angry at Ulfric, for stopping you when you went after Elenwen. It was amusing to see the fear written over her face."
Her eyes fell on the dead Altmer and she thought about what he said for a heartbeat. She shrugged and agreed, "She deserves to die, but it is still too soon."
"Aye, all the elves dictating the fate of men deserve the same fate," he stated without a fraction of a doubt. "You have killed him successfully, but you are more than clumsy with your weapons."
Her eyebrows furrowed and she turned to glare at his profile. "You sure you want to provoke another fight?" she bit out to which he laughed loudly.
"Don't be deluded, Breton. Snow is a Nords advantage. You would stand no chance," he dismissed her challenge as though he was certain she couldn't even scratch him.
A heartbeat of silence passed between them, Minerva's focus was on the corpse. The way she'd killed him played over in her mind, turning her stomach unpleasantly.
"You need proper training with your weapons. The way you fight now, it's an embarrassment."
His comment was enough to banish the memory of how the blade had dug into the Altmer's neck, and return her focus to the conversation. Minerva wanted to prove him wrong, but Galmar had a good eye for details; she never had any training regarding her weapons. Everything she knew she'd learned from her own success and mistakes.
"Whatever you say," she stated with her arms crossed, disinterested, "Though I'm certain I could teach you a thing or two as well."
Galmar laughed mockingly again, the sound reverberating of the walls of High Hrothgar before he calmed enough to say, "Dream on, Breton."
Their repartee was interrupted when Ulfric stepped out of High Hrothgar, walking down the stairs with his head lowered. When he came off the last stair he looked up and his face darkened in caution.
"I see you are not trying to kill each other," he commented when he came to them, though there was no humor in his voice.
Minerva found he looked distressed, but she couldn't place whether something had happened in the halls while they were out, or because he feared Galmar would attack her again. She decided not to ask as both she and Galmar stood up. With one last glance at the halls of High Hrothgar, Ulfric sighed before he walked in front of them.
Minerva was the last in line, with Galmar and Ulfric leading the trio the same path they came from. But something rested heavily on her soul and she stopped to look at the dead Altmer from behind her shoulder.
"We ought to move, Breton," Galmar reminded after a while as both men waited for her.
She knew they had to continue, but Minerva couldn't help but wonder, "What should we do with the body?" It felt wrong to leave it here, the Altmer had no right to be at the most sacred place of Skyrim.
"Take it home with you, if you want," Galmar growled, irritated.
Ulfric sighed, "She's right. We cannot leave it here."
"Why not?"
"Because this is Skyrim's holy ground," she answered instead to Galmar's question.
But Galmar was quick to counter, "That should have crossed your mind before you killed him."
Minerva had enough of this pointless repartee; she headed towards the body. Even though she knew leaving the body here was a mistake, she was unsure of what to do with it. Carrying it with them was not an option.
Surprisingly, Ulfric followed her and helped remove the snow from it as they both crouched next to it.
Galmar's growl reached their ears before he commented, "Why don't you shout it off the mountain?"
Minerva and Ulfric shared a look.
The Jarl of Windhelm had a rare, childish grin and Minerva was captivated by it. Despite the dead Altmer between them, she found herself focused on Ulfric and how he shrugged as if he was shy to admit of how amusing he found the idea.
Ulfric dragged the body towards the edge while she carried the head. Once both the head and body were joined, they took a few steps back, Ulfric giving her enough space to use her Thu'um.
"Well… this beats shouting trolls off the mountain," she said with a grin before unleashing the Thu'um.
"Fus-Ro-Dah!"
The ground below them trembled and the body flew far of the mountain. As the body and head fell in different directions, she released a sharp breath and couldn't stop her grin from widening even further.
She smoothed down her hair before turning to Ulfric, who was also grinning.
With a cheerful gait she passed the Jarl of Windhelm, wondering playfully, "Shall we continue our journey, my lord?" before looking over her shoulder at him.
He was smiling and watching her as he followed, his eyes burning with mischief. She couldn't contain her cheerful attitude as they took the same path back.
It felt good to shout the Thalmor bastard off the mountain.
####
The weather was in their favor as they descended the mountain. She had a clear view of both Ulfric and Galmar as she was several steps behind them. They moved their arms as they discussed something and it almost seemed like an argument.
Ulfric was glancing at her over his shoulder from time to time, as if he was making sure she was behind them. As if he was afraid she could disappear.
As she watched their backs, her thoughts wandered to her inevitable encounter with the dragon, Odahviing, the right hand of Alduin. Before meeting Paarthurnax, she deemed the dragons an aggressive species, one keen to destroy mankind and rule over the lands, but she learned they could also live peacefully and in harmony with mankind. However small the chance might be, she wondered whether Odahviing also had a change of heart sometime in his long life. Perhaps he was friendly?
It also made her wonder whether he would truly give away Alduin's location. Doing so would mean Odahviing betrayed his master, and Minerva had a hard time believing that any dragon, not just Odahviing, would ever betray him.
Their journey was uninterrupted and they reached Ivarstead by nighttime. Frost released a sound when it saw her, as if greeting her. Minerva gave his neck a strong pat before she turned to her companions.
Galmar was readjusting the fastenings on his steed, but Ulfric was heading towards her.
To her surprise, he turned to Galmar once he stood close to her, wordlessly looking at him. Galmar, his attention to the task, didn't realize at first Ulfric was looking at him. But when their eyes met, realization dawned upon him. His eyes briefly landed on her before he looked back at Ulfric, letting out a irritated groan.
He headed towards the inn without saying a word. Minerva arched an eyebrow as Galmar walked away. Ulfric looked at her when Galmar entered the inn.
"Whiterun is not far," he spoke, though he didn't want to show it but Minerva saw concern flashing in his eyes. "We could accompany you."
As much as she entertained the thought of traveling with him to Whiterun, he and Galmar had other matters to attend to. Informing the soldier's of the temporary peace treaty was more important, and the sooner they arrived in Windhelm the sooner the soldier's would hear of the treaty.
She placed her hand on his forearm and smiled sweetly, looking into his eyes, when she reminded him of the importance of his task, "You need to send word to your people about the treaty. Let them spend some time with their families. I have a feeling this will take a while."
He nodded, letting his eyes wander over her face as though he memorized each detail of it. The thought made her heart flutter.
"The battle of Solitude awaits. The soldier's will want the Dragonborn fighting beside them," he stated, though she was partly certain he was rather referring to himself than the soldier's.
"Of course," she spoke, and couldn't help but smile as Frost nudged her shoulder, inching her towards the Jarl. It made her chuckle. "And don't worry about Riften; I have a few acquaintances that can effectively play in our favour."
He sighed, asking, "Do I even want to know?" though the question was more of a rhetoric nature.
She shrugged, "I guess, but it's kind of a long story. You know, one told over a bonfire, roasted meat and terrible ale."
One corner of his lips curled into a smile. Her eyes danced over his face taking in each wrinkle and his ruffled beard. Her smile fell a little as she reminded herself she needed to leave, for a second her eyes rested on his chest before bringing them to his again. For now, this meant goodbye.
"Take care, Jarl Ulfric," she spoke softly.
"You as well, Dragonborn," he simply said, though she heard the worried note in his words.
She mounted Frost, looking at Ulfric for a moment longer before she jolted the reigns. Frost neighed and galloped towards Whiterun. Her thoughts were focused on the next task, but her heart remained with the Jarl of Windhelm.
And she wasn't afraid to embrace it.
####
Whiterun, its streets empty and silent. Even the beggars weren't present when Minerva stepped further in. She passed Adrianne's forge and stood before Breezehome. She kept the key but the house didn't feel like home anymore. It never did, if she was honest to herself. Her thoughts drifted to Lydia and a small smile played on her face as she headed further into the city, deciding not to enter Breezehome.
In a way, she'd given the home to Lydia, but didn't make it official yet. The housecarl fully deserved to have a home of her own after everything she had endured with Minerva.
Her steps took her to the Bannered Mare and the closer she came, the more voices she could make out. Entering, she noticed the tavern was filled with the same people as both the bard and the guests sang Ragnar the Red. As she gave the tavern a quick once over, she noticed a cloaked figure seated in the corner, eating. Her eyes rested on the person for a heartbeat before she made her way to a free table. The waitress came quickly.
She ordered a mug of ale and whatever freshly made meal they had on the menu. The waitress left but soon came back with the drink, telling her the food would be served soon.
Her attention was on the people, some laughing and talking, some silently enjoying their mead and food. Unintentionally, her eyes landed on the cloaked figure again. From their built she could tell he was a man, but why he was eating with his face covered in a heavy cloak she couldn't tell.
The waitress appeared with rabbit stew and warm bread. Minerva thanked her and motioned with her head towards the figure.
"Why is he covering himself like this while he eats?"
The waitress glanced towards him and a look of caution flashed in her eyes when she looked at Minerva. "I couldn't see his face clearly, but his hands are full of bruises. He probably got his ass beaten for something."
Minerva's eyes lingered on the stranger as the waitress left. The stranger looked in her direction and Minerva quickly averted her attention to the meal in front of her, hoping he didn't catch her staring.
After a few moments she peered at him from underneath her eyebrows and was relieved to find him focused on the meal. She enjoyed her own meal, loved the crispy crust of the bread and the seasoned stew, but couldn't stop herself from looking at the man occasionally.
With her bowl of stew empty, she pushed it away and emptied the rest of the ale before placing the mug back on the table.
The cloaked figure stood from the table and stole Minerva's attention from the entrance of the tavern. He stood on wobbly legs as he started to walk. To her suspicion, he walked in her direction but didn't get too close before he lost the strength in his legs.
She shot to her feet as two more people gathered around him, pulling away the cloak to reveal his face. Slowly she approached them, noticing the dirty blonde hair and bruised face.
When she stood right above them, she barely recognized him.
Even as she knelt beside him and called for help to carry him to a bed, she couldn't tell whether he was Ralof at all. His cheeks and brows were swollen a bit, a line was burned into his neck.
They carried him to a free bed upstairs and Minerva removed her gloves, before she tore at the pieces of his clothes to reveal more skin. There was dried blood everywhere, purple bruises and scorched skin. He was just in his undergarments as she brought her hands to his skin healing every injury, both internal and external.
It took a while before she was certain everything had been treated. The waitress from before brought her a bucket of heated water and mixed it with the cold water in the barrel. Minerva took several pieces of cloth to clean the dried blood.
As she gently wiped the blood from his face, now alone in the room, she was certain the person on the bed was Ralof, unconscious but breathing calmly. It made her worry what had happened to him. He was in a very bad shape.
Once he was partially cleaned, she covered him with furs and stocked the fire, before she slumped in the chair beside the bed, exhausted. She covered her face in her palm and closed her eyes, listening to the fire in the hearth and worrying about him.
Even though they hadn't been on the best of terms, Minerva worried for him. He was a kind man and had helped her without asking for anything in return. She only hoped he would recover.
"Is that you, Minerva?"
His raspy voice reached her ears and she looked at him, only to find him already looking at her. There was a faint smile on his lips, though she supposed it hurt to do even that.
She leaned forward, wordlessly watching him, worry etched into her eyes and voice when she answered, "Yes."
He breathed out a laugh, "I wasn't certain if that was you, when you entered the tavern. I can't see properly."
She pursed her lips and moved the chair closer. "What happened to you?" She asked softly.
Ralof wanted to sit up, groaning as he moved in agonizing pain. Minerva went to stop him, but he moved until he was partially seated, leaned against the headboard.
He looked at her and exhaled, "The Imperials caught me and my party near the Reach. They wanted information on Ulfric. I told them lies, and luckily they had no way of confirming them. But, as you can see, they didn't hold back."
"Where are your men?" she wondered.
Ralof looked troubled when he spoke, "Most escaped into the woods, including myself. Some of them weren't so lucky. I came to Whiterun when it was safe."
"How long have they kept you?" she asked.
"I'm not certain, but I think a week, minimum. I still have to inform Jarl Ulfric."
"It's not your fault, for what happened," she assured.
He sighed heavily, "I know. I just wish I could have done something to prevent so much bloodshed."
Minerva averted her eyes to the bed, not knowing what else to say.
"It seems," he started, pulling her eyes back to his, "The divines join our paths whenever we least expect it."
She didn't know what to add to this, but decided to change the subject; she felt rather uncomfortable to talk about such matters with him.
"Are you in great pain?" she wondered.
He shook his head, "Nothing I can't survive. I'm glad to see you, Minerva."
She smiled weakly at his admittance, standing up from the chair to place more wood into the fire. With her back to him as she crouched before the hearth, she didn't feel as uncomfortable but she kept feeling the urge to leave because staying with him felt like a mistake.
However, it felt wrong not to talk to him. She was irritated because she had nothing to talk to him about, which only made her feel awkward.
"I heard rumors," he started, and Minerva held her breath as she waited for him to elaborate, partly anxious to hear what kind of rumors he'd heard, "There are whispers saying you are going to capture a dragon at Dragonsreach."
Minerva stood on her feet and turned to face him. He looked cautious, as though he didn't know whether the rumors were true or not.
"That is the plan," she admitted, retaking the chair beside the bed.
The look of surprise on him made her almost laugh. He looked around the room for a while as if making sure no one was around before he looked at her.
His eyes wide, he couldn't retain his excitement when he said, "Wait… so that is not a mere rumor? You will use Dragonsreach to trap a dragon?! A real dragon?"
Minerva only nodded and he released a sharp breath. "Divine's mercy… that is insane."
"Yes," Minerva watched his profile as she elaborated the entire situation, "There is no other way to find out where Alduin went, except asking one of his own."
He looked as though he didn't believe her, and sounded as such when he voiced his anxiety. "A dragon in Whiterun. Have you forgotten what happened at Falkreath?!"
Minerva hadn't forgotten. She ground her teeth and pursed her lip as she remembered the Revered dragon. At that time, she had had her troubles fighting it. Thinking about the inevitable encounter with Odahviing made her stomach clench. No doubt Odahviing was stronger than the Revered dragon. She hoped she didn't end up dead again.
"What if the trap doesn't work?! So many people will face its fury-"
"So do you have a better idea?!" Minerva interrupted him furiously. Her outburst caught him by surprise.
Many people would be at risk if the trap didn't work, she knew so without needing him to tell her. He was lecturing her and she was irritated because of it, if he didn't have any useful advice then he better not talk at all.
The irritation played on his face and both fell silent. Minerva didn't want to argue with him, but he'd hit a nerve and she didn't think she would react like this. That little outburst made her realize how tense she was.
She sighed and went to her things to grab a healing potion. With the potion in hand, she returned to the bed and handed him the potion.
"Drink this, it will help you sleep," she stated softly.
Ralof took the potion from her without looking into her eyes, removed the cork and drowned its content. It surprised her to see him finish the potion without questioning its ingredients. Silently she went back to her things and took everything. She was ready to leave.
"Will you stay in Whiterun?"
Minerva nodded to his question, even though he couldn't really see because she was with her back to him.
"Yes," she firmly stated. "I will oversee the preparations, and finish my own."
There was silence as she headed for the stairs to the lower level. Her hand grabbed the door knob.
"When everything is ready to trap the dragon, I wish to help."
Minerva wanted to refuse him, there was a very little chance for him to recover completely by the time they would set the plan in motion. However, she also knew his help could be useful. She'd fought dragons with him before, so it couldn't hurt to ask him to fight the beast with her, if necessary.
"As you wish. You'll probably find me at Dragonsreach once you feel better."
With that she left, somehow relieved to know he would be there to help her.