Guide:

Dwemeris

Thoughts

"Speech"

"Dovahzul"

Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4

Chapter Warning(s): Greybeards, Delphine, much dialogue, Angst

Last time…

"But she's -" "Marcurio." The protesting mage snaps his jaw shut with a click, eyes burning with something I cannot even think of understanding, not now, when I cannot even get a read on my own emotions. "Just. Go." The last thing I want to hear about is how amazing your new wife is.

Chapter 36 - Ysmir

"Rayya! We're leaving now."

I order the second I'm in the door opening of the jarl's longhouse. Luckily, the woman walks right up to me immediately. "Did something happen?" She asks confusedly, and I start shaking my head before I pause, nodding sharply, once. I start walking towards the town's borders without waiting for her to catch up.

I don't care. I don't care. I'm FINE.

The attempt to convince myself those things are true fails miserably and my teeth grind together violently.

For the first time, I'm more than happy to leave Falkreath behind.

I set a quick pace, not wanting to be followed by Erandur or, gods damn him, Marcurio, and aye, the wolves and bears we meet on the road are having days even worse than mine.

Rayya keeps up fairly well, all things considered. "My Thane? It is not my intention to pry, but, what made you want to leave so quickly without your companions? Did you have a falling out?" I give her a dark look for even mentioning them, but when I see the slightly fearful flicker in her gaze, I backtrack and force myself to calm down a little.

For a long time, I allow myself to be caught up in my own musings and darkening thoughts.

I want to go on a murdering rampage – but Jenassa and I took out so many bandits last time we passed through I doubt I will find anything to slaughter. Also, I do not know Rayya's fighting style well enough to rely on her.

"No. We did not fight. I would not want that… Marcurio, he…" I bite my lip harshly. Don't be such a weakling and just say it. It's just words. "He got himself a wife. I… I cannot stand to look at him, right now."

I do not want to know what she's thinking right now, even as her face falls into a stony mask. "I see." I do not think you do, Housecarl mine.

I clear my throat awkwardly as her gaze turns to pity. "Alright, so we're going to Riverwood first, and take two rooms at the inn there. Just... Let me do the talking. Afterwards, we're passing through Whiterun, perhaps pick up another Housecarl, if she's back yet, and then… High Hrothgar. I haven't planned ahead any further than that, I'm afraid."

"With all due respect, my Thane. You've already planned a hundred times more than what I have seen other Nords… 'plan'. They mostly plan to get drunk in the evening, and start drinking again in the morning."

Unexpectedly, especially considering my mood, I grin. Even if it is not a joyful expression.

"I'm thrilled I am compared to such brilliant specimens." Comes my acrid reply, and to my satisfaction she doesn't cringe, but grins back instead.

For a long moment, I'm jealous of her perfectly white teeth. Clearing my throat, I change the subject.

"We'll be at Riverwood soon, correct?"

Her grin dims slightly as she eyes me confusedly. "My Thane… We're already there." My head jerks up sharply, to indeed see the wooden houses up ahead.

"Oh." I mumble stupidly, running a hand through my hair. The sky is only in the first moments of dusk, the sun not even having set yet, but I can feel the tiredness settled deep inside my bones.

Am I ready to deal with whoever left that ridiculous note?

…No. No I am not.

And therefore, when I enter the Sleeping Giant, I ask for two regular rooms. Delphine seems almost disappointed. Was it her? At the moment, I don't care. The Greybeards can wait a night longer for me to get that horn somehow, for now, I really want to go to bed and sleep in until noon tomorrow.

Which is exactly what I do.

…

"Good afternoon, my Thane." Rayya smiles when I walk out of my room the next morning. I take a second to yawn properly before greeting her, as well. "Morning, Rayya." With that, I plop myself down on a chair and wait for either Delphine or the other guy what's-his-name to come and ask me if I want breakfast.

Think of the Daedra and she shall appear.

"Is there anything you'd like to eat, drink?" Delphine asks, and I give her my most charming grin, feeling a little bit more like I can take on a challenge than I did yesterday, and the day before that. "Sure. Just some ale is fine. You know… It's strange how life gets in the way of things you want, isn't it? Just three days ago, I'd have immediately asked for the attic room here, but well, my bullshit meter was so ridiculously full that it malfunctioned."

Still having the exact same smile on my face, I watch the blonde Nord's face cycle through what has to be the entire emotional spectrum, anger and surprise most visible, before settling back into a blank mask.

"Attic room, aye? Well, we don't have an attic room, but you can take the one on the left. Make yourself at home."

I hand her the ten gold coins with a covert roll of my eyes, before gesturing for Rayya to come with me to the exact same room I'd already slept in today.

"So, you're the Dragonborn. I've heard awfully little about you. Trying to keep a low profile, right? A good choice."

Good. If so few people have learned about my real identity that stories about my exploits are hard to come by, I'm playing this game right. To be fair, outside of some trusted people I've told and that one disaster in Windhelm, I haven't been advertising who I am.

Which is why the Thalmor after me – and Xrib's forges is Ondolemar going to hear what I think of that – hopefully have very little idea of who I am.

I don't think any Stormcloak-allied city will even breathe a word of me to those pesky bastards, though, even if just out of pettiness.

Oh wait, she was still talking? I'll ask Rayya about it later.

"I think you were looking for this. We need to talk." I accept the horn from her, and glare daggers at her back when she turns and walks off again without as much as a by-your-leave, expecting me to follow like some mutt.

I am a proud Dwemer Forgemaster. I should not be treated in such a disrespectful and manipulative manner..! But, I will deal with it. Even if only to keep that inner voice called 'Nazir' telling me to 'get my head shrunk' quiet.

Grinding my teeth and letting out a sharp huff, I follow, Rayya loyally guarding my back and seeming less than impressed with this strange new phenomena called 'Delphine'… If that's her real name.

I'm not okay with this situation. I mean, I can protect myself if push comes to shove, but…

Simply moving from one side of the inn to the other, Delphine stands still in front of a wardrobe. I raise my eyebrow, even as Rayya closes the door behind us to give an illusion of privacy.

….I want Marcurio… The traitorous thought it squashed immediately as I retreat a little further into myself. He's gone. I need to stop thinking about him.

"Now come with me so we can talk." The blonde Nord who's been giving me trouble mutters as she opens the wardrobe, revealing a secret entrance to some sort of basement. I wish I had a full-on basement in Hjerim. Would make storing that gold so much easier.

The basement is quite big, with a practise dummy, plenty of supplies, several books, an alchemy station and a large table in the centre, on which I focus my attention: A map, and a small black book with a silver insignia of the Empire's flag emblazoned on it.

Not a Thalmor, but perhaps an Imperial spy..?

"The Greybeards seem to think you're the Dragonborn."

The word 'Greybeards' is almost spat, like only saying it is poisonous. A possible spy that hates the Greybeards, who I do not like but are dedicated to helping me. "I hope they're right."

…Would it be wrong for me to try out how much of an effect my newly improved Marked for Death-Shout works on this woman? I cross my arms impatiently, my eye twitching. This just started, and I'm already growing tired. I suppose I'm not as recovered from the past few days and happenings as I'd thought.

Ugh, who am I kidding? I want to go back to bed and forget about everything for, like, the next two months or so.

Delphine stares at me intently, as if the space between my forehead and my nose can solve every problem in the universe. I want to snort derisively.

Highly unlikely, that.

"You were the one who took the horn from Ustengrav, didn't you?"

"What, Surprised? You've suspected me from the beginning, didn't you? And here I was, thinking I was getting good at this harmless innkeeper act." I let out a huff of amusement, shaking my head slightly even as Rayya stays worryingly silent, her hand on her scimitars and staring Delphine down dangerously, ready to jump to my defence any second. It's… calming to an extent, to realise. It's much like having a guard dog at my side.

"I grow weary of this useless talk. What do you want." I demand nonetheless, watching her eyes darken and her fists clench on the table.

"I did not go through all this trouble for a whim. I needed to know this wasn't some Thalmor trap."

Human, if this was a Thalmor plot I'd eat a whole giant. Raw. They literally spend their every waking moment trying to mock Nord culture, not understand it, nevermind to use it against us.

"I am not your enemy. I already gave you the horn, I'm really trying to help you! I only ask that you hear me out!" Holding my hands up in mock-surrender, I parrot back:

"I needed to know this wasn't some Thalmor trap." She stiffens, then seems to see where I'm coming from. "Talk." Now the blonde is affronted. That's alright. I'm not here to play nice with what might still possibly be some sort of spy, even if not of Thalmor origin.

"I assure you, the Thalmor are the last I'd ever work with. As I said in my note - " So she did send it. Also, I hope Rayya doesn't attack her before I CAN fully hear her out – "I'm part of a group that's been looking for you, or well… Somebody like you, for a long time."

What group? I inwardly yell.

Out loud, what passes my lips is: "Please don't give me a sales pitch. I've had enough of that from Ulfric to last a lifetime."

"This is NOT a sales pitch! For Talos' sake, hear me out in silence!" She almost thunders, and I sardonically wonder if a wardrobe door is enough to block the sound for the rest of the patrons of the inn. "Before I can tell you more, I need to make sure I can trust you."

You can't. I'm a member of the Dark Brotherhood, for Sithis' sake! I almost want to laugh. Part of me would rather cry because… Dark Brotherhood. I didn't even ask for it though it still happened. "And I assume this… 'trust' can go both ways?"

Aye, a bed would go a long way in improving my mood.

She glowers at me, and Rayya loosens the clips holding her scimitars in place, ready to draw them at any second. "If you don't trust me, you were a fool to walk in here in the first place."

Just as I start laughing at her, Rayya draws her scimitars.

"My Thane does not trust easily. He walks into danger because he knows what he can handle, and he can definitely handle you." My Housecarl hisses. Delphine visibly bristles, her own hand going for her dagger.

Whoah, wait, I'm not looking to view a bloodbath here! "Both of you. Calm down. Also, Delphine, if that's your name, I have a very simple solution to this. Tell me what you are keeping from me, and I will decide if I, if not trust, at least put a little faith in your words." She purses her lips, tightening her grip on her dagger as if to lash out, before she suddenly deflates.

"Fine." Comes the haughty reply. "My order remembers what most do not – the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragon slayer. Only they can kill a dragon permanently by devouring its soul. Can you do it, can you devour a dragon's soul?" I only nod solemnly, not deigning to come up with a verbal reply since I'm still waiting for my explanation.

"Good. Dragons aren't just coming back to Skyrim. They are being brought back to life. They weren't gone somewhere all these years. They were dead. Killed off centuries ago by my predecessors. I've visited their ancient burial mounts and found them… emptied."

A chill settles into every cell of my body at that news. Who? Who or what would tamper with nature as Meridia and Sithis designed it? The dead ought to stay dead. Buried.

I bite my lip harshly. Arnknurlaf is probably appalled. "I need you to help me stop that process." This… changes things. "If you speak truth, Delphine, then…The dead should stay buried. I will believe you. For now. But do not take my agreement for compliance."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

…

When I walk out of the inn a few minutes, that could have been hours, later, I'm still reeling. She knows where the next dragon will come to life. And after I finish my business with the Greybeards… For now, I will join her so we can fight the dragon and I can have its soul. This would go a lot faster if I could kill a dragon on the road when she's watching, but who am I to ruin her 'elaborate' plan?

The road to Whiterun has never seemed this short before – when we get to the city, I spot no Khajit caravan. Ri'saad said they travelled between Markarth and Whiterun. I'll get that contract next time I'm either here or there, if Sithis wills it so.

We don't even stay the night, I only run by Adrienne's and Dragonsreach long enough to upgrade two sets of armour sans helmets – a set of Orcish armour for Rayya, and a set of lighter scale armour for Lydia once I run into her and decide to drag her along with me right away, explaining as I go.

Breezehome has not been robbed, either. Good. I ditch the valuables I'd been carrying in the bedroom chest, send a quick prayer to Xrib to protect it, and we're off on the road again – moving until deep in the night, where we make a quick camp and reach High Hrothgar the next day.

"We've made excellent time." I mutter, satisfied, when we reach the doors to the monastery. Lydia, like Anneke, is completely star-struck, not even the troll blood on her armour preventing her from caressing the stone as if caressing a revered shrine of Talos with big eyes and open mouth. She's proven herself to be as tough as Rayya, if not more so, but six times more frigid.

I do not think she wanted to be a Housecarl… Or, more accurately, I don't think she wanted to be a Housecarl to an ELF. A proud Nord, through and through.

Seeing Rayya, unimpressed and shivering from the cold, I decide we might as well just move inside. The horn feels heavy in my knapsack as I approach Arngeir in the main room. I take out the horn and take a step closer.

"Ah. I see you've retrieved the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller at long last. Well done. If I may ask, what took you?" Grinning sheepishly, I rub the back of my head as my Housecarls stay at a respectful distance.

"I got distracted and kind of became Thane in three different holds and also helped solve the problems at Winterhold College..?" I trail off, ending in almost a whisper near the end. The Greybeard gives me a long, assessing look before laughing softly, his voice an underlying thunder to it that I recognise as the power of the Thu'um.

"Making waves, I see. As expected of the Dragonborn. Now… Come. You have passed all our trials. There's one last thing we must do… It's time to recognise you as the Dragonborn formally."

Barely able to nod with the nerves now overly active in every part of my body, making me shake with the force of it, I walk after the monk, my knees weak and my mind racing. There's no way out anymore. No way out… Gods, I want to run so badly, I never asked for a fate like this. Grimly, I take my place in the centre of the room, watching another monk gently guide my companions away.

Endure. I must endure, as I've always done.

Then I'm taught the last word of Unrelenting Force.

FUS RO DAH.

It feels like a rite of passage… I suppose, in a way, it is. "Stand between us, and prepare yourself." I swallow thickly and nod, doing as they say. My palms are sweaty, my knees are wobbly, and I cannot seem to focus on much of anything. And so, all I do is brace myself for an impact. "Few can withstand the unbridled voice of the Greybeards."

I hope I'm one of the ones who can, then.

They start speaking, suddenly, in the ancient dragon language – making the wall shake and making me infinitely glad that I braced as I force myself to keep standing like a rock stands firm in a river under their vocal assault on my ears and, really, every other sense.

It's made worse by the fact that I cannot understand a word aside from 'DOVAHKIIN'. Once they stop, I wobble a little bit more, unbalanced, and feeling… A little different. A little stronger, maybe, steadier. Like something within me has been put at ease, has been given purpose.

Still shaky, I turn to face Arngeir again, who smiles proudly underneath his hood, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. Also, did they just say 'Ysmir'? As in, the odd name Vulthuryol called me back in Nchuand-Zel, Ysmir?

"You have tasted the Voice of the Greybeards, and passed through unscathed. High Hrothgar is open to you."

Uh… Thank you, I guess?

"You are Ysmir now. Dragon of the North. Honour it." Something within me, near my stomach, seems to physically jerk at the name – recognition.

My name. As much as Fjaldi is. Ysmir. Vulthuryol was calling my by not only my own name, but also my… dragon one? My other name? How did he even know it when the Greybeards hadn't given it to me until now?

I wait until all the monks have left, presumably to go to their usual meditation stations, before whispering it out loud to myself. "Ysmir…" It's barely a whisper, but it feels… Nice, to say.

I am a proud member of the Dwemer race. The last, according to some. I am a Forgemaster, and son of Saarimda and Kvaldi.

I… am Dragonborn, too.

I'm also definitely not going to live beyond age twenty-two at this rate.

…Fuck me.

A/N: Finally had time to edit a chapter dear lord. Hope you liked it! Also, no, we haven't seen the last of Marcurio… And hey, I drew Fjaldi and put him as the cover-thingy for this fic!