AN: Sorry this took a bit longer to come out, but to be fair it's also a bit longer itself. I just want to point out a few things before getting into things. First, these chapters will be in chronological order, though there isn't really a plot to speak of. As in, this one takes place after the first one, and the next one will take place after this one. Secondly, the titles indicate what the main topic will be, but that doesn't necessarily mean it will be the only topic.

Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim.

On Flying

The fight the dovahkiin had called him for hadn't been difficult in the slightest. It was more of a trifle, really, as it was only a group of bandits, but he wasn't complaining. Any excuse to stretch his wings was a welcome opportunity in his opinion. And if such an opportunity also came with the promise of a little sport, well…all the better.

The dovahkiin knew this about him—knew that he enjoyed both flying and fighting more than anything else. That's why she would sometimes call him for fights she normally wouldn't need help with. And those kinds of fights were becoming the norm with all of the major threats dealt with. Really, the only challenges left for him in Skyrim were the occasional giant or rogue dovah.

He should've left by now. It was in the very nature of the dov to seek out and dominate those who would challenge him. And since the dovahkiin had freed him from her service a year ago after the last major threat, Miraak, had been dealt with, there was nothing preventing him from leaving…

But still he stayed. Despite the circumstances of which they met, he had grown rather attached to the dovahkiin. She was the closest thing to a friend a fearsome dovah like himself could have. Though such a concept was foreign to him, he, like Paarthurnax, had quickly learned to enjoy her company.

And so it came to be that he found himself joining her as she settled next to her campfire for the night. She hadn't asked him to stay, and neither had he asked her if he could stay, but he could tell she was grateful for the company. She always traveled alone, so his company was no doubt a pleasant change to the norm. And even though they didn't share too many words since both of them despised small talk, he was still content where he was. Which is why he had let her rest against the base of his neck, his wing sheltering her from the night's chill. Come morning, however, it was time to take his leave. She was heading for the nearby city, Whiterun, and he tried to avoid the major settlements whenever possible.

Especially that particular settlement.

But the flight back to the Monahven was a short one, and he wasn't quite ready to head back just yet. It was too beautiful a day to waste it on that mountain. The sun was gently warming his scales, and the delightful breeze was brushing against his wings as he stood watching her begin her own journey. Only a few small clouds dotted the otherwise clear skies, and he leapt into the air with a roar.

Yes, today was a perfect day for flying. He had no destination in mind; he merely went where the air currents took him. He flew west along the plains for a while at a leisurely pace before deciding to turn south. The forests of Falkreath offered a more interesting environment for flying than the dull yellows and browns of the plains.

He much preferred the south of Skyrim over the north. Not only was it warmer, it was also much more beautiful. The Reach, Falkreath Hold, and the Rift were his favorite places to fly. The Pale, Winterhold, and the northern part of Eastmarch were too cold and dull for his liking while Hjaalmarch's swamps and the geothermal pits in the south of Eastmarch tended to have a horrible stench that burned his nostrils. And though Haafingar wasn't too bad, it was too far removed from his other favored places. Why fly that far north when he would simply have to turn around and fly back south before reaching Solitude? Besides, there were many more beautiful areas to marvel at and enjoy down here, anyways.

Lake Illinalta was the perfect example. Its serene beauty on clear, calm days such as this was often enough of a draw for him to land on its banks and enjoy a short respite. There were a few hunters camped near where he landed, and they all shouted in fright upon his arrival, standing and drawing their weapons in a feeble attempt at intimidation.

He merely glanced their way, pinning each of them with a single eye—a warning not to test him. Once they saw he was not attacking, they hesitantly lowered their weapons. He snorted and looked back across the water, lying down and simply admiring the view. He wasn't at all concerned about the three hunters attacking him at this point as a short glance in their direction revealed that they had once again taken their seats and resumed conversing with each other. They glanced at him warily every now and then, but that was to be expected. He could simply say he had no interest in harming them, but he preferred letting his actions speak for him when possible. He had learned that mortals cared more for what one did than what one said.

And sure enough, as time passed, they began to relax in his presence. One of them, a Nord woman, even worked up the courage to share a few words with him.

"It's a fine day, isn't it?" he heard her ask.

At first he didn't answer as he thought she was still speaking to her comrades. However, when no one answered, he turned his head to see the other two looking at him with varying degrees of nervousness. The female, however, looked at him expectantly. He was both amazed and surprised that they had actually spoken to him, but he decided he would indulge her. "Indeed," he replied, turning his gaze out across the lake again.

"I've been hunting and fishing in these parts for years," she told him. "And I've never gotten tired of the view." He simply hummed his agreement. There was a span of silence, and he thought that was it until she spoke once more. "You don't seem to be like other dragons," she commented. He actually blinked at that, puzzled by her words, and turned to her again in a silent request to clarify. "Most dragons would have attacked us," she pointed out matter-of-factly.

He huffed in amusement. "Zu'u onik ni wah. Killing you would no doubt attract the attention of the dovahkiin, and I have no wish to incur her wrath," he explained.

She nodded, satisfied by his answer, and the other two seemed a bit more interested in their conversation now. "Makes sense. She has killed quite a few dragons so I've been told."

"Indeed," he rumbled. "But I do not fear her. The dovhakiin is dii fahdon—my friend. And I wish it to remain so."

"So you are the dragon that fights with her!" she smiled excitedly. "I told you!" she bragged to her two comrades. He found it both intriguing and surprising that she knew of him, though it would explain why she wasn't afraid of him.

One of the others, a male Nord, leaned forward with a smile. "I can't believe it! So this is the dragon that saved your life."

"Hmm?" he hummed in confusion and even greater surprise than before. He studied the female for a long while but couldn't recall seeing her anywhere. And he had a good memory when it came to remembering faces and names.

Upon realizing he didn't remember, she explained the story. "A dragon attacked Falkreath…a few years ago now, I guess. I was helping the guards fight it, and right before it was able to roast me alive, you crashed into it, saving my life." She chuckled, "Never thought I'd actually get the chance to thank you for it, but… you have my thanks."

"And ours as well," the third hunter, a male Argonian, said. The Nord nodded his agreement. "You saved our friend that day."

He hummed in acceptance of their thanks and looked out over the water again. He remembered the incident of which they spoke, and he did indeed recall seeing a Nord woman with a bow staring down the hovering dovah in defiance despite being seconds away from death. But he had been more focused on fighting the rogue dovah than actually saving lives. Saving her hadn't been his intention, and the fact he had was purely coincidental.

He was quiet for a short time before noticing that it was nearing midday. He had lingered here long enough. He stood and looked over to the three again. "I must be on my way. I wish you luck on your hunt."

"Thanks, but we already caught our share," the female said. "Would you like some?"

Once again, he was surprised at the offer. When was the last time a mortal other than the dovahkiin had offered to share their catch? It surely had to have been before the Dragon War, and even then, it was because they had to and not because they wanted to. Kogaan. A kind offer…but I must decline. I prefer to catch my own prey," he spoke. "A sentiment you no doubt share." They all nodded with smiles and bid him farewell as he once again took to the sky heading east.

This time, as he flew, he thought on the conversation he had just had. How many others thought similarly to those three? How many others had he unknowingly saved? The bandits he had just helped the dovahkiin take care of: how many had they killed, and how many would be spared now that they were gone? Since he tried to avoid mortals when possible, he had no idea if they even knew of him. Would they recognize him as a friend, an ally of the dovahkiin—like those three hunters? Or would they simply see another hostile dragon and attack?

It wouldn't exactly be hard to answer that question. All he needed to do was fly over a city and see what they did. However, all temptation he had for trying that disappeared as he passed over the ruins of a town.

Helgen…

The town Alduin had destroyed upon his return was a stark reminder of the dynamic that currently existed between the joorre and the dov. There could be no coexistence between them. The only path to peace was the one Paarthurnax had traveled—one of isolation and constant meditation. This world no longer belonged to the dov, and to think otherwise would be to invite one's own death. And since he had no desire to experience death again, he would stick to the wilderness.

He circled the ruins a few times to burn the image into his memory. This was what happened when the dov tried to reclaim the world that was no longer theirs. And the consequences of that decision had lead to many dead dovah, including Alduin himself. He flew away to the east more quickly this time, wishing to put distance between himself and the ghosts of the past.

He stopped only once on the shores of Lake Honrich to get a drink before taking to the skies again. Lingering here wasn't wise. This lake wasn't like Lake Illinalta. Many mortals fished this lake, so staying here too long would be inviting trouble. He skirted the lake and the city as best he could before landing once more at a well-known site.

It was odd to look down into an empty grave and know that it used to be yours. He came here sometimes when he was in a particularly reflective mood. This place made him feel…vulnerable. It was a constant reminder that even he, fearsome and powerful dovah that he was, could be felled by those smaller and weaker than him. It was a humbling notion, and one that he always felt he needed to remind himself of.

And so, he stepped into the pit where his lifeless bones used to lay and made himself at home. Once, the nearby ruin now known as Lost Tongue Overlook had been his, and the nearby temple of Forelhost had been under his command. Now though, his old lair was claimed by any dovah who could defend it—it having changed claws quite a few times—and Forelhost was home to only ghosts. Land, influence, wealth, servants: all of it had been his once. Now though, the only thing that was truly his was the grave he was currently occupying.

At least it was a peaceful place.

He spent until the sun began to set thinking about his own mortality—ironic though that statement was. Then, he finally began making his way back to the Monahven. No doubt Paarthurnax would notice his now-foul mood when he arrived. The old one would attempt tinvaak with him, too…

And this day had started off so well…

Although, as he passed over Lake Honrich again, he saw the fishing boats being tied up at the docks. It made him realize just how freeing the ability to fly was. He had flown across half of Skyrim in one day, yet it would take a mortal five days to do the journey on horseback and even longer on foot. He could go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He couldn't imaging being trapped on the ground for his entire life, and he had to wonder just how the mortals could stand to live without the freedom of flight.

Then again, their lack of wings hadn't seemed to halt their progress in the slightest as they were more widespread than he could ever have imagined. Flight may be freedom for the dov, but it hadn't helped them in the slightest, had it?

AN: I tried to convey the sense that Odahviing is actually afraid of dying, and therefore invoking the wrath of mortals, without actually outright saying it. Hopefully, that kind of got through. The next one will be titled 'On Paarthurnax', so we'll finally get a look at how Odahviing views the old one.

Until Next Time

AdmiralCole22