The week had passed quickly. And as surely as the warm, summer-like breeze made the golden fields of Whiterun shimmer in the afternoon light, the training yard of Jorrvaskr remained noisy and brutal.

The clashing of metal, the screams of valor, the satisfying 'whomp' of training dummies cut down from their stands. If it wasn't whelps eager to prove themselves a part of the pack, it was the senior members barking orders and correcting forms.

"Watch your posture! Unless you want to throw your back out too!"

"How are you holding that shield? Do you want a broken wrist?"

"If that's how you swing a sword, you're best suited serving mead at the taverns, lad! Do it again!"

Svana counted herself lucky that Farkas was the one instructing her. He was by far the most patient out of the Companions tasked with training the new whelps. Even when she complained, he only continued to encourage her. Never once did he use coarse language, or push her with insults.

"How are you not tired?" Svana managed through a wheeze.

Farkas, to her continuing frustration, was so bright and full of vigor he could have just sprung out of bed. All he answered was, "It's fun!"

"How is this fun?"

He paused, resting against the training pole he was using. "Isn't it satisfying? Seeing your body defy its limits, to be able to do things only heroes of legend could?"

Svana raised her brow at that. She wondered if said heroes ever complained of sweat and aches.

Farkas continued, "And besides, it releases energy."

They took a break with a gesture of his hand, and he ushered Svana to the shade. She panted with her whole chest as she wiped the sweat off her forehead. She took a seat on a forgotten stool, bracing her arms on her thighs. "Energy? I feel like I've spent all of it. You're really not tired?"

Even through her exhaustion she caught the way he shifted his glance away from her, though why he did, she couldn't be sure. She listened as he spoke.

"You see," he explained with cautious words, "when you get to be like us, the Inner Circle, you… you have this kind of energy. It's like a feeling? Like butterflies in your stomach."

"Like magic?"

Farkas shuddered. "Nothing like that, just… you train your body in a way that fighting and swordplay all come naturally to you. It feels…"

"Like a game?"

Farkas smiled. "Something like that. It's like if I don't swing my sword or exert my energy I just… start pacing like an anxious dog."

A curious word choice. But for now, the aches in her muscles and the desperate pain in her lungs made it too difficult to ask any more questions. After all, they had plenty of training to do still and the day was only just starting.

As she got up to pour herself a mug of water, Farkas asked, "Do you think you're becoming more confident with a blade?"

Svana thought about it as she gulped down sweet, cold water. The relief was only temporary, but welcome all the same. At least it cleared her mind enough to answer his questions. After all, rarely did Farkas engage in friendly, idle chit-chat. Svana was eager to make the most of it while he was in the mood.

"You're asking something without just saying it." Svana smiled at his roundabout way of talking. He certainly was his twin's opposite. Where Vilkas preferred a short and more direct approach to his speech, Farkas either stayed quiet… or went about in circles trying to make a point. It was... endearing.

"I was wondering if you'd like to try sparring. Get a feel for where you stand, and all."

"Only if you go easy on me."

"Go easy?" Farkas took mock offense to the suggestion. "What? Scared I'll turn you to mush?"

"Look what you did to those poor fellows." Svana pointed with her chin at a heap of straw dummies that lay forgotten and piled upon one another in a corner of the yard. "I'd like to have a body when I go to Winterhold."

Mere mention of the place sent a sobering silence between them. Farkas cleared his throat awkwardly, averting his gaze.

"So… no word from your contacts?" Svana asked, the mirth in her voice all but gone.

"Winterhold's a long way," he answered matter-of-factly.

She looked at the Companion, studying his form, his manner. She hadn't meant to stare, but her own mind took her deep within herself, and her gaze settled on the spot of nothing between Farkas's idle hands.

Winterhold.

That's where Onmund would be, right? That was all he ever spoke about at dinner; what those mages in that ice-blasted hold did all day. She admitted that she cared little for his ambitions, but when he had begun to speak openly about them… Svana could not deny her own fear that her family harbored a mage.

And one with destructive magic at that. Healers were tolerated. Those that convened with the Divines were welcomed as sages and wise-women. But to hold ice and fire and lightning in one's hands? Blasphemous. What right did men have to bend the will of nature? To bend the will of Kyne? It was only a small step away from other types of magic, the ones that could bend another's blood and bones, or to summon horrors from Oblivion.

"You alright?" Farkas's baritone shook Svana out of her thoughts.

"It's been a week," she sighed. "It's been a whole week and there's been no word from anyone. At this rate it'd be faster to walk to Winterhold and talk to my brother than it would be to wait for a letter."

"Well, all the more reason to train you up nice and good before we head up the mountain."

"We?"

"Yes. We."

"Since when? I don't have any money to pay you, and I never agreed to let you follow me like a lost pup."

Farkas shrugged. "Road to Winterhold is dangerous, and I feel like killing something. Far as I see it, that's a win for us both, what'dya say?"

"Won't you be needed here?"

"These whelps can stick around and prove their mettle," Farkas scoffed. "About time one of them took down a giant."

They kept chatting between chugs of fresh water and stretching to warm up their muscles. Truthfully, Svana was feeling sore all over, but it was as though something had awakened in her. Something exciting and powerful. She wasn't sure if it was the way Farkas looked at her with those piercing eyes of his. Whenever he gazed at her approvingly, it felt like fire running through her veins.

She felt special, capable even. Not that she hadn't felt that way before— but it was different when the approval and encouragement came from a particularly handsome and charming Companion of Jorrvaskr.

Her moves had become less clumsy with his guidance. Her footing was more sure and her stance more balanced. Even if Farkas hadn't lavished her with positive attention and graced her with his good looks, his instruction had certainly helped her gain the confidence to become a more competent warrior. And with his offer to take her on the road to Winterhold… how was a girl to refuse?

Before they could resume their training, a commotion rippled through the training yard of Jorrvaskr. Whelps stopped their training, and instructors looked at the intruder like a pack of angry wolves.

It was Irileth. And it looked like she brought dire news.

The housecarl looked every which way, her hair nearly falling out of her fighter's braid, before she pointed at Svana. "You!" She beckoned. "Come with me!"

"What for?" Svana challenged.

Irileth marched over at a frighteningly brisk pace, stopping so close that Svana could see the small beads of sweat forming at the base of her angled brows. "You said you saw that dragon in Helgen."

A hush fell over the yard then. Helgen. It had been wishful thinking that the dragon and its nightmares would stop at the borders of Whiterun. But even in Jorrvaskr, there had been disbelievers. Svana overheard them muttering: "I'll show her what a real dragon looks like."

Svana grimaced.

"—cked the western tower."

"What?"

"Didn't you hear me?" Irileth narrowed her eyes and grabbed Svana by the collar of her shirt. "I said a dragon has attacked the western tower."

The warriors stilled and Svana's heart fell into her stomach. She swore she could smell the ash and death that followed her from Helgen.

Svana felt completely and utterly useless as she watched all of Jorrvaskr moving to answer Irileth's call. Warriors of every rank and class geared up with armor and weapons picked clean off the racks. The Skyforge grew bright atop its hill, its legendary smith refining blades and weapons for the glorious battle ahead.

And all Svana could do was wander aimlessly, trying her best to stay out of everyone's way as they hurried around her. It wasn't fair. Irileth had asked her to help, yet Kodlak demanded she stay within the city's walls.

The injustice bubbled so strongly in her stomach that she eventually gave up on her pacing and stomped up to Farkas. "You can't just leave me here. Irileth wants me to go. Let me help!"

He didn't look at her. Instead he tested the weight of his greatsword as younger recruits fastened his armor. "You can come and help scout the thing, tell us what to look out for. We can handle the actual fighting."

"How do you know if it can even be killed?"

Farkas shot her a glance. "Won't know until we try." Svana didn't like it one bit. He turned to face her, his gaze fierce and intense. "Look, I get it. You want to help."

She blinked, surprised at the sudden closeness between them.

"But if anything happens to us out there? The Jarl will believe you. You saw what happened at Helgen. You can help us at the watchtower, but we need someone to get back to the city when things go sideways."

She grumbled. He said 'when', not 'if'. That meant he understood the odds.

And the odds were stacked against them.

"Svana?"

She sighed. "Alright."

Perhaps as a token of good faith, or a reward for not pushing back too hard, Farkas picked out a sword for her from the weapons rack behind him. The blade was shiny and deadly, gleaming in the firelight. He held it out for her to take with a small smile in the corner of his lips. "Besides, I'd hate to be the one to drag your corpse back to Kynesgrove."

The galloping of horses towards the western watchtower sounded like thunder over the ocean. Even in the dimming afternoon light, the destruction that had been visited upon it was clear against the horizon: tower no longer, all that was left was a burning pile of debris and hubris.

Svana hoped, at first, that it hadn't been a dragon. That perhaps the others were right in telling her off. That she was crazy and had imagined the whole thing; that it had been soldiers who had set fire to their arrows and razed the fields with them.

But the destruction before her spoke plainly. No creature on Nirn could have done this, not even a man.

Irileth dismounted first, walking with terrifying purpose towards the closest guard who looked even remotely alive.

"You," she barked. "What happened?"

The poor lout had half his beard singed and soot all over his face, but he was alive and in far better shape than the charred corpses that lay under the rubble and madness.

"It came out of nowhere," the man stammered. "Huge, like a big dark cloud, and the next thing you know the whole tower came down."

"And where were you posted?"

The man mumbled and muttered under his breath, though Svana did not catch his words.

"You." Irileth pointed to the retinue of guards. "Assess damage. You two, look for and help survivors." She narrowed her eyes at the Companions. "You lot, set up defenses, archers and rangers, on point."

Svana got off her own borrowed mount and meekly walked over to Irileth. Even though she towered over the housecarl, she felt small under her fiery gaze. "What about me, what can I do?"

"You're with the scouts." Irileth jerked her chin towards the more junior Companions and guards. "Go up ahead and warn us if you see the bastard coming."

Svana tried not to feel insulted. After all, it wasn't as though her week of training could compare to the years that everyone else around her had.

She sheathed her blade, certain that she wouldn't find much use for it. She was on lookout duty, and it was difficult not to feel as though she had been given busywork. If a dragon could fly and be spotted miles away by sentries… then really, how fast could her warnings be heeded?

Still, it was a job, and Svana wanted to help. So she trudged along an old pathway in the grass away from the others. She didn't know a thing about dragons; all she knew was that they burned and dominated. Helgen had been her first taste of war and destruction and the smell of blood and ash still burned in her lungs.

"Hear that?" she heard one of the sentries call out. "I think he's still here!"

Svana looked away and closed her eyes, listening for the sound of a roar. It wouldn't leave her, that horrible, horrible sound. It followed her into her worst nightmares; there was nothing on Nirn that could make such a bone-shattering noise.

But she listened and listened and all she heard was a Companion dismissing a scout with, "Just an eagle, lad, nothing more."

Svana would have ignored it too if it hadn't been for that… tug. That little pull of power. She had felt it when she gazed into the hateful eyes of that creature in Helgen, felt… some kind of connection. She looked eastward. The sky was turning a pretty pink, making way for the evening. She couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

But she knew.

Svana pelted back, fast as she could, to Irileth and the other warriors. She swallowed her breaths, her lungs burning with desperation. "East."

"What?" Irileth raised a brow.

"East." She sucked in one labored breath. She couldn't even hear herself speak, her heart beat so loudly in her ears. "Look... east."

They did. But all there was to see were gentle rolling clouds and a setting sun; pinks and reds that glittered behind the last rays of the day's light.

The housecarl turned to face her, red eyes blazing with anger. "Are you blind, girl?" Irileth scolded. "There's nothing there."

"You don't understand—"

"No, I'll tell you what I understand, I understand that there's a threat, I understand that you've dealt with those horrors in Helgen. But I will tell you what, girl, you do not get to make a fool of my mission and you do not get to involve yourself w—"

"DRAGON!"

A roar cracked through the sky, as though the heavens had been shredded apart, and all the horrible fire and chaos that Svana saw at Helgen would pour out.

She heard it first, those first few beats of leathery wings faintly coming from the east. Every warrior drew their blades and nocked their arrows, but none had yet spotted the creature. Svana peered up at the sky, her heart racing wild and unsteady in her chest. What would happen, she thought? Would she have enough time to run? Her mind begged her to find a safe spot to hide, but she feared being taken by surprise more.

'You? You? You insult us, our kin.'

The voice boomed in Svana's head in a language she didn't recognize, but understood all the same. 'I sought a challenge, and this is what I am answered with! Pathetic. You deserve to die for such insolence!'

That was when Svana felt the heat of fire, and heard the screams of those poor sorry slobs who had been burned to a crisp in the dragon's sudden attack. She acted on pure instinct, praying to Talos in hurried words, as she scrambled to find shelter.

'You cannot hide from me, you cannot. We have returned and we will take what is rightfully ours.'

The voice speaking to her sounded as though it was coming from the inside of her head, but her ears did not lie, as they ached with every terrifying roar. It was louder than anything she had ever heard, and it left an unpleasant ringing after.

She barely made it into the watchtower's safety before she felt fire nipping at her heels. It was only then, when she had a moment to catch her breath, that she realized this wasn't the same dragon that had razed Helgen to the ground.

As she peered out from the blackened rubble, eyes stinging from the smoke, she could see the bastard was a coppery, svelte thing. His voice was not old and ancient, like the dragon at Helgen, but younger. Arrogant.

And yet the same tug of power from the one in Helgen was ever present. It transformed every roar and scream and screech that arrived at her ears into words she could understand. She wondered if the others could hear him rattling the inside of their skulls, too.

'What a joke! And you seek to destroy us?'

Svana turned to where the dragon perched atop the remains of a supply hut. Its horrible wings shimmered in the dying light, illuminated by the fire summoned from its breath. It expanded its wings to its fullest width, presumably to intimidate the warriors who dared stand against him.

Those with weaker constitutions fled, abandoning their weapons. But the braver of them stared at the dragon. Svana wanted to run, wanted to hide and go with the others. But fear, and that horrible churn of understanding in her stomach, made her stay.

She lifted her eyes to meet the dragon's, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

It let out another sky-shattering screech. Some of the guards flinched, but the Companions only roared back, raising their weapons and charging headlong toward the beast. The dragon lifted off, wind from its wings knocking the warriors to their knees.

Farkas held steady, and kept after the dragon. The beast dipped to one side, turning sharply in the air, and readied another fiery breath. Farkas leapt into the grass with a roll, eyes wild as he looked for his quarry.

Svana gave chase, running after it, blade held useless in her arms. She had to try, even if she wasn't much of a fighter.

'Why do you count yourself among them?' The voice spoke in her head.

She grunted, shaking it out.

"Come here and fight me, you coward!" she yelled after it. "Come on!"

It was as though the dragon understood. She could've sworn she heard it laugh, as if amused. Svana readied her weapon. Just as the dragon made another swoop downwards, she struck.

Her blade landed between the scales of his foot, and the creature yelped in anger and surprise. Not pain— a wounded ego. Svana knew that feeling well.

She recoiled momentarily in surprise. This was no simple creature. Not some animal one hunted for sport. But that didn't matter— it still had to die. She locked onto its hellish gaze and readied her weapon once more.

Her distraction bought the other warriors time. An arrow shot through its wings. Another managed to snag a hook into the dragon's foot. Svana barely made it out of the way before the dragon came crashing down. It screamed and roared, spitting fire and sweeping its tail from side to side.

'You dare? You dare do this to me?'

She raised her blade over her head, and in one fluid motion, swung down hard against its wings. She needed the fight to be fair, and those wings were a coward's tool.

The dragon flapped madly, knocking warriors over as it flailed. A few unlucky guardsmen were crushed under the creature's weight in its struggle to break free.

Svana could only stare at the gore that was left behind. Some semblance of life clung still to the moving eyes and the twitching fingers. She couldn't look away.

"I'm sorry," she said, walking over to the remaining half of one guard. His bloodied form staring in horror at what had been done to him. Guts and crushed bone and pooling blood. "I'm sorry," Svana tried again.

"GET DOWN!" Farkas snatched her and rolled her away behind the safety of a half-fallen wall.

Then she felt it.

Heat.

Heat and fire and gore and mayhem.

This dragon was not the dragon she had encountered before, but the destruction it wrought was horribly familiar.

Svana dry heaved, coughing and choking on the stink of death that filled her lungs. She tried to kick herself free, but Farkas held tight. "Let me go," she begged. "Let me go!"

But he pulled her head down, the gust of wind indicating that the dragon had missed his chance to snatch them from where they hid.

"We gotta go somewhere safe!" Farkas pulled her up, but Svana's legs gave out. "Come on, Svana!" he yelled. "Move, come on! Get up!"

But she couldn't find her footing. All she could see was that half-smashed guard, staring sightlessly at what remained of his body. She wanted to throw up.

It was then she realized Farkas was dragging her away. Too numb even to struggle, she stumbled weakly after him. She just wanted it to end.

The dragon let out another roar, and Svana could've sworn her stomach would turn inside-out on itself. Then it shrieked. It screamed. If its roar had been a loud and thundering boom, this was a sound that cut across the sky like a blade across flesh.

'Dovahkiin, please!'

Svana braved a look at the dragon, turning her head every which way despite Farkas dragging her. It was downed, a large cut through one of its wings, rendering it useless.

'Help me! You are one of us! You are kin!'

Svana dumbly wondered if anyone else heard it speak the way she did. She saw the way the others covered their ears, flinching as the voice burst through the sky like a storm.

She saw a guard land a blow deep into the dragon's neck, but the man was swatted away like nothing more than an irritating fly. He met his demise with a visceral crunch as his body met the stony, burning ground. Another group tried to come behind the dragon, only to be flattened by a wide sweep of its long thorny tail.

It seemed so hopeless.

It was hopeless.

How could they expect to defeat a dragon? How could they even think to stop them?

"Here." Farkas leaned her against the cool surface of a large boulder, farther away from the chaos. She still did not take her eyes off the scene before her, as though if she closed her eyes it would spell the doom of the valiant warriors. "Svana, Svana, are you okay?"

She didn't answer him, and he didn't wait for a reply.

"Wait here." He turned her to face him, and it took all of her focus to concentrate on his words. "If things go sideways, go to the Jarl. Get help."

She nodded, an automatic response, and she watched him join the battle once more.

Another roar. Another shriek. Svana could scarcely believe what she saw: the dragon had been weakened. Or so it seemed; it hung its head like a tired animal.

Her legs carried her closer and closer to the scene with an unsure, clumsy gait. She tripped over stones and debris, her hands still gripping the blade Farkas had given her earlier.

From the distance, she saw Irileth lead the charge. What had been a small army led out of Whiterun were now thinned to only a handful of capable warriors. Svana saw Irileth's target. The damaged scales on the dragon's neck offered little protection against her attacks to the soft flesh there.

Courage flowed through her now, and her frightened stumbles grew more confident with every step. She stumbled into a run, blade raised, and a scream erupting from her chest.

The other warriors saw the opportunity as well, what little remained. They raised their weapons in answer, archers readied arrows, and while the dragon's size and might brought some two more men to their deaths… those that remained did not falter in their attacks against the beast.

Another roar, another shout in her head. 'You cannot let me go, Dovahkiin!'

She ignored it, sharpening her focus into sticking that blade deep into the dragon. To end its life, to end the death and destruction. She had to help, she had to help. There were only so few left, if she gave up now, she would surely doom them all.

'Dovahkiin, please…'

It was a pathetic whimper, and a small whisper in her heart empathized with the creature. Wanted to stop the fighting all together. The dragon was nearing death's door. Its voice grew weaker and weaker.

'No.'

No mercy. She remembered the way a mother saved her son, only to burn right before her very eyes.

No mercy for creatures who sought to kill and dominate. She remembered the way the dragon at Helgen toyed with its prey, as if nothing more than a game.

No mercy for what had happened at Helgen. No mercy for what happened here, in the plains of Whiterun.

When Svana reached the beast, blade raised over its eye, it only released a gurgle.

'Please…'

She hesitated.

Death. Could death even exist for something like a dragon?

'End it.'

She did, before she could hesitate again, before she could think. A warm gush of blood coated her arms. Adrenaline ran through her veins like lightning. Never once did she look away as the light in the creature's eyes vanished. The last of the dragon's life faded with the light of the disappearing sun.

Svana stumbled away from the creature, falling backwards into the soft grass. Her breath was ragged, her lungs were on fire and her stomach threatened to turn itself inside out. But it was dead. She was sure of it.

With that realization, it was as though all the sound and color of the world returned to her. She felt the cool night breeze. Heard the lazy songs of crickets in the far distance, unaware of the battle that had taken place.

And then: she felt a surge of power. Warm and domineering, like the voice of a divine whispering through her blood, like hot liquid metal. It was exciting, and there was a giddiness in the rush of the feeling, the thrill of a kill.

Svana couldn't be sure where the excitement came from. Was it the joy of ending the beast's life? Had it come from meeting a creature of legend, and facing it head on? But whatever it was, it flowed through her like molten gold. And in her head, all at once, a cacophony of voices all clamored for her attention.

'Why did you kill him? Why did you kill him? Why did you kill him?'

'You saved them all! You're a hero! You saved them all!'

'What have you done? How could you have done such a thing?'

'You have changed the course of fate, what have you done?'

Through the mess of voices in her head, she saw the moons come out from behind the clouds. Saw the stars twinkle. Saw the destruction of the Imperial City as daedra rampaged through the streets. She saw the other Companions crowd around her. Saw the destruction of Red Mountain, mourning mothers wailing in despair. Irileth pushed her way past the crowd. Saw how one letter fell into the pit of vipers called a Breton court, how a nation crumbled under quill and ink.

Saw the silver of Farkas' eyes as he rushed to her side.

"Someone get the healer!" Irileth cried.

She turned to see the dragon, her blade in its eye and arrows between its scales. Unmoving. Dead.

Dead.

They had killed a dragon.

But none of what they said resonated with her more than the reverent calls of, "She's Dragonborn. By the Gods, she's Dragonborn!"

Their words were nothing more than hums. That surge of power flowed through her once again, whispering words that felt at once so foreign, yet so familiar.

She smiled a smile that was not her own, before her eyes rolled into the back of her skull, and the whole world went dark and silent once more.

Dovahkiin!

Dovahkiin!

Dovahkiin!