Chapter 18: Hope

Night had fallen by the time Faendal and I reached Riverwood. It was an odd feeling to observe Alvor's shop through the gloom; the orange glow of the forge against the inky backdrop of night. We had not been gone an entire day. It felt as though weeks had passed since I had last laid eyes upon it.

"Here we are, then," Faendal turned to me with a bright, eager anticipation twinkling in his sharp eyes. He held out his hand in farewell. "Returned as promised, with stories to tell that nobody will believe."

I huffed as I shook his hand, then gave in to an impulse and drew him into a hug. The elf spluttered in surprise, which made me laugh all the more.

"Thank you," I squeezed his shoulders, meeting his garnet gaze with all the friendliness he deserved.

He looked exasperated and indignantly readjusted his armour, but the expression was tinged with a flush of what I took for pride. "I know that you mean to return to Whiterun at once," his eyes flickered to my backpack, where the dragonstone was hidden away. "But if you find yourself in Riverwood again, come by the mill and say 'hi'. And, as for this old thing," he added loftily, outstretching his hand. With a double-take, I realised suddenly that he wanted the longbow over my shoulder, which I had forgotten about. I passed it hastily to him.

He lifted it; drew the string back experimentally, much farther than I was able to, then handed it back to me. "This bow will serve you well, over time. Keep practising what we began today."

I nodded, suppressing a wince as the wooden handle grazed my blisters when I clasped a hand around it. "I will."

He smiled fondly and reached forward to tousle my hair. "If you would only remain in Riverwood, I would teach you all I know."

"Get off!" I swatted him, laughing. The strangely affectionate gesture had been entirely unexpected and considering that we were supposed to be parting as equals, as comrades, I found it a little condescending. "You will be too busy wooing Camilla to help anyone else, if you get your way," I reminded him.

"True," he laughed. "Just – think about it," he flashed me a sideways smile.

"I will," I promised.

We parted; he for the Valerius' shop and I for Alvor and Sigrid's home.

As tempting as it was to stay in Riverwood with Hadvar's family and learn to shoot a bow from the expert mer, I was wary of taking advantage of these good people while my funds were out of reach. Besides, my priority was to return the dragonstone to Farengar, and learn from him what I could about this Dragonborn matter. The word Fus hung in the forefront of my mind, demanding acknowledgement and something more of me that I couldn't yet put into action. I mulled over it curiously. Why, if whatever had happened at the wall had taught me its true meaning, could I not throw Fus with my voice, as Ulfric Stormcloak did?

I lingered in a moment of indecision, warring with the prospect of returning to Whiterun at once for my answers. From the landing, I glanced toward the gate that led out of Riverwood; into the blackness beyond.

No. I shook my head at myself and proceeded into the cottage. It was late; too late to be wandering the wilds of Skyrim on my own, and the day had been so strenuous that I felt I deserved a night's rest.

Besides, Sigrid had asked that I stop by to let them know I was okay, and I didn't want to disappoint her.

I found Alvor and Sigrid at the dinner table; Dorthe must have already been abed. Both stood the moment I entered and expressed their relief; Sigrid darted forward to hug me and Alvor rumbled a few quiet words to the Gods as he lowered his head. I felt a pang of tenderness toward the couple; they had been waiting up for me.

Despite my tiredness, I rallied some energy and sat with them a while. With a mug of tea in one hand and a plate of fragrant stew before me, I regaled them with a bard's tale that would have sounded ludicrous to my ears, had I not experienced the events for myself. I left off only the final incident at the grey wall, for fear of what they might make of it. I wanted to know what it meant before I told them or anyone else that I could understand the language of the dragons.

–

For the first time in many months, I slept late. Once I realised this, I prepared for my journey hastily, annoyed that I had wasted a perfectly good morning.

But once I was ready and arrived upstairs, my frustration ebbed. If I had risen with the sun and set out as planned, I would have missed the letter I had been so eagerly anticipating.

The family weren't to be seen; I assumed they were all hard at work given the hour; but on the dining table was food and tea aplenty, and propped up before the place I usually sat at was a letter. I grasped it and read:

C P c/o A & S Ebonhand
Riverwood

I couldn't hold back my relief as I clutched the letter to my chest and laughed. Word from Hadvar!

I turned it over and broke the seal. While I unfolded, I acknowledged and stored that Hadvar's aunt and uncle's surname was Ebonhand, not Reidarsson, as I had assumed. Given the resemblance between uncle and nephew, it told me Hadvar's mother must have been Alvor's sister.

I sat idly, uncaring of where, and poured over the letter. A single page written in the small, neat script of a hand that wrote well and frequently.

Giddy excitement made me flush, and I took a breath, reminding myself that this was a letter detailing my fate, not a love letter. Only barely succeeding in calming myself, I read the opening lines:

Apologies for the delay in my correspondence. Caution insists I refrain from the salutation I wish to offer, though I suspect my superiors are well-aware of my alignment to your fair self, for it is only possible to hide so much from men and women trained to read others.

My flush renewed; my heart fluttered at his simple, restrained words, for they managed to express his yearning. His yearning for me, I made myself acknowledge. How had hewanted to greet me? What hadn't he been able to hide from his superiors?

I read on quickly:

Regarding the Helgen incident, I give you assurances that there is no bounty on you. The Legion is not seeking you. However when I brought your name forward to the General, he told me he had frozen your finances for reasons that he was unwilling to divulge. He insisted it was a delicate affair, and that until he was able to settle the matter personally he would keep the account safe in the name of the Emperor, until such time as the name Passero was cleared of all suspicion connected to it.

Suspicion? I crossed my brows, re-reading the sentence. Delicate affair? The Legion had frozen my account for some reason other than Helgen? I wracked my brain to try and figure out what it could be. Did they assume I was a spy? That didn't make any sense if they weren't hunting me!

I wracked my brain but came up with no plausible cause – I had already given them my report of the night Ulfric had murdered the High King. I had nothing they could possibly want - except!

I paled, swallowing down a bitter sense of betrayal. Money. The Empire had seized my family's account with the intention of using it to fund the war effort. It wasn't about me at all.

I made myself read on, my spirits dampened:

I am sorry, and he would not accept me in your place to speak for you. I can only hope that you know of what he speaks. It is safe for you to return to Solitude, when you wish it, and when you arrive, seek out the General and finalise – whatever it may be.

I wish I could meet you here, but I have already been assigned to a garrison in the Pale and by the time you read this letter, I will have been there for several days already as I'm due to leave at once.

I will write to my aunt and uncle before I go and tell them of my assignment, but I will mention nothing of your affairs. I leave that to your discretion. But they will safeguard you, should you need some time, and they will provide you with whatever you require. Please, think about it. If I'm honest, it would relieve me if you remained with them for the duration of this war, but I will not try to decide your path for you. If my desire offends you, please ignore it. I'm a foolish, homesick soldier, and your acquaintance is of more importance to me than my wants. Our farewell filled me with a brightness this war will not cast shade upon, try as it might, and regardless of what the future holds, I will treasure that moment for the rest of my days.

My smile fell and I was struck by a poignant ache that twisted at my heart.

I long to hear of Riverwood and how your appeal to the Jarl went; I long to hear from you at all.

Hadvar

I closed my eyes and slumped into the seat, sighing a long, shaky breath as I clutched the letter to my chest. I yearned for a second page - no. I wished he was here andnot in some freezing camp in the harsh northern extents of Skyrim.

It was not long before the information in the letter caught my attention. With a groan, I leaned down and rested my forehead against the scrubbed table with a dull thunk. No money. No access to it until I returned to Solitude and faced General Tullius, with no idea if any appeal I made might feasibly release it, if my suspicions were correct.

What's changed? You had no money yesterday. But you have some loot, I reminded myself. Sell it. Earn your keep. Make do with what is before you.

I rose, nodding in determination. The news of my finances changed nothing about the day before me. I was to go to Whiterun, deliver the dragonstone, and have my answers from Farengar. After that? Divines only knew.

I cast the future from my mind and wilfully focussed on the now.

–

After a warm farewell and a promise to return as soon as I could, I left Hadvar's family – the Ebonhands, I reminded myself – to their business. Dorthe had been working at the forge with her father, and remained with him as Sigrid accompanied me along the road out of town, a basket of fresh vegetables harvested from her garden on her hip. She had told me they were bound for Whiterun in a day or so to meet with Adrianne.

I was so pleased by this that I decided I would stay in Whiterun until they came, in the bed that Lydia had assured me would always be mine at Breezehome. Aside from the joy it would bring me to acquaint them with Lydia, I knew that Dorthe and Lucia would make playmates of one another, and it would do the two serious little girls who spent most of their time in the company of adults some good to be able to run about with and talk to someone their own age.

After making good time along what was becoming my 'usual' path to Whiterun, and encountering nothing more threatening than a wild fox who darted away as soon as it sighted me, I descended the trail onto the plains, and was granted entry to the city before the sun had set.

I wanted to go to Lydia and tell her everything, but I made directly for Dragonsreach instead, and paused by the Gildergreen to re-braid my hair and glance over my appearance. I untucked the Passero seal from my coat so it was visible around my neck. I had cleaned Sigrid's coat and scarf that morning but upon returning both to her she had insisted I consider them my own, for they suited me better than they did her. Under the grey wool, I wore the Legion armour that had seen me through both Helgen and the Barrow, despite it singing my allegiance to any who would observe me. I looked a little travel-worn, but after a few more brief checks, I reminded myself that I was returning to the court mage after a retrieval mission through a draugr-infested ruin, not appearing before the Jarl.

Flexing my fingers around the bow that Faendal had told me to continue carrying, I ascended, and made directly for Farengar's office. I spared a glance at the Jarl's throne; he was no longer in session, or anywhere in the throne room, for that matter.

Farengar was in his office, but he was not alone. I waited in the open entryway, staring at the mage and his visitor.

"And you are certain you can translate it using this text?" his visitor asked; a woman with a voice so barbed and officious that I crossed my brows, wondering how I recognised it.

"Yes," Farengar insisted impatiently, as though he had expressed this a number of times already. "It's clearly First Era, perhaps older. It is just the sort of codex we have been searching for."

The woman stood, and I caught a hint of blonde hair and a pointed chin under her dark brown hood. "All right. Good. This is progress, then. My employers are growing anxious and I am growing weary of speculation. They are here, so we have to work faster."

Farengar seemed more excited by this. "I must show you what else I've found," he reached for the book before them and flicked through pages hurriedly. "Very intriguing, and your employers may-"

"You have a visitor," the woman cut him off.

My attention snapped back to her, and I bit back a gasp as I looked into the hard, icy eyes of the Breton publican of the Sleeping Giant Inn; Delphine. Of course I had recognised her at once; but had not placed her here. There had been no reason to place the slim woman with her neatly-pulled back hair and blue dress in the boots of this warrior-woman in her dark, worn leather armour.

"Ah! You didn't die, then," was Farengar's greeting to me.

I ignored his impertinence; barely heard it in fact, for I was still staring at Delphine. Why was she here? And what had they been discussing? Something a mite more important than the rotation of ale barrels.

Recognition flared on her face and she pulled back her hood. "You?!" she accused in an incredulous hiss.

Remembering suddenly how unhelpful she had been at the inn, I pursed my lips and forced a mask of composure as I faced Farengar. "Yes, I am returned."

"Do you have it?" he asked hurriedly, tearing around his desk and holding his hands out. "Did you retrieve the dragonstone?" his eyes glinted with animation from underneath his hood.

"Yes," I repeated, stepping further into his room. I slung my bow onto my shoulder and backpack onto the table before me. "I have kept my part in our bargain," I untied the straps, then faltered; a deadpan pause. "I expect you to keep yours."

"Of course, of course," he waved for me to continue. For once, his impatience seemed overcome by excitement.

I didn't torture him any longer, withdrawing it from the pack and settling it onto the tabletop between us. I could feel Delphine's eyes on me all the while, rather than Farengar's prize, but pointedly ignored her notice.

Farengar leaned over it, reverently running his hand along a cracked edge as he muttered a thanks I barely heard. It was then that Delphine tore her sharp eyes from me, placed her hands on the desk, and peered over the artefact from the other side of the table, her eyes wide, and wild.

"It's not your thanks I want, Farengar," I told him sternly, stepping aside to give him the space to inspect it closer. "I want answers. This was not all I found in Bleak Falls Barrow."

Delphine's eyes shot to me, but I kept my eyes on the court mage.

It took Farengar a moment to realise what I had said; his focus was locked on the map. After a beat he shook himself out of a daze, and glanced up to me.

"As I suspected. You stood before a word wall, didn't you?" he asked quietly, but somehow bluntly, as though still testing me.

Delphine made an aghast sound of disbelief. In the corner of my eye I saw movement - she was moving around the desk, to our side.

I resisted the urge to grind my teeth as my jaw locked – what was she doing here? Why did I have to discuss this in front of her? I tried to ignore her, and focused on Farengar. "I did."

The mage stood tall and chuckled, crossing his arms as he turned his eyes to the floor, as though some joke had been shared between us. "Oh, the Divines do have a sense of humour."

Before I could decide if I was angry or scared, Delphine blocked my view of Farengar. She crouched to my level and stared into my eyes, searching with those icy blue daggers as though the answers I sought might be found within myself.

On instinct, I took a step back, but she grasped my shoulders. "This is no time to jest, child," she told me sternly as she continued her examination.

"Unhand me," I grated in an undertone. I was tired of this contrary woman's appearance and attitude.

She complied, staggering a step back and releasing her grip. Her gaze did not soften, and her face wore no remorse. "I apologise, but as I said; this is no laughing matter. Who are you?" she demanded.

"I'm not the one who is laughing," I managed through clenched teeth, turning pointedly from her in dismissal; my accusing eyes fixed on Farengar's form.

He was still chuckling to himself, but chose that moment to intervene. "Delphine, peace. This is Samuel Passero's daughter. Her name is Celeste," he put a hand on the hard woman's shoulder, trying to make her turn away.

She shrugged it off. Her brows crossed in concern; her eyes clouded with horrified recognition. "Who?"

"You knew my father?" I raised my eyebrows at her callously; determined to answer nothing until I knew why she was here.

She shook her head, surprising me a little. She took another step back, wavering, and thoughtfully cast her eyes to the ground as she leant a hand on the table, for support. "No," she replied. "There was never any cause to know him," she glanced back up, searching me anew.

Her voice carried the same hard-edge as before, but there was an added level of remorse to her tone – and gaze – that somewhat appeased my umbrage.

"Well, then," I returned my expectant eyes to Farengar and let the woman continue her assessment as she liked. "As recompense for putting my life in danger for this artefact, I would appreciate if you would stop laughing and explain what happened to me instead. I nearly died, several times, and while my life might be worth nothing to you-"

Farengar stood taller and waved his hand, cutting me off. "I am not laughing at you, Miss Passero, but merely the incredulity of the situation Skyrim finds itself in. Each of us manage stress in our own way, do we not?" he cast a pointed glance at Delphine, but shook his head when she didn't take whatever hint he was giving her. Her eyes were still fixed on me; still unashamedly staring.

"Leaving the explanations to me, then," he shook his head, then offered me the seat behind me. "Please. You had best get comfortable."

"I would rather stand," I admitted, feigning calmness, but it was difficult to feel settled with Delphine observing me so.

"Suit yourself," he walked back around his desk to lean over the book he and Delphine had been inspecting when I had arrived. "You want to know why you were able to activate the word wall in Bleak Falls Barrow?"

I started to nod, but changed my mind, and shook my head. "No. I know why you sent me to face the wall. You were testing to see if I am Dragonborn," I narrowed my eyes at him. He looked ever-so-slightly taken aback, and I felt a tiny surge of satisfaction.

"You didn't believe me when I told you I could hear what the dragon at Helgen said," I continued, "so you sent me, telling me nothing of what I might face, to prove my claims."

My jaw was hurting, and I realised I was gritting my teeth again.

Calm down, I urged. There was no reason to be angry; I had lived and won. I had completed Farengar's test. If I grew angry now, I might never learn what it meant to be Dragonborn.

Farengar opened his mouth.

"You were in Helgen when the dragon attacked?" Delphine spluttered.

I maintained Farengar's gaze, ignoring Delphine's interjection. In the corner of my eye, she ran her hand over her head, and then she stepped past me, to fall into the seat I had refused to take.

I leaned over the desk toward Farengar and took a deep breath to regain a semblance of calm. "What does it mean to be Dragonborn in today's Skyrim, Farengar?" I asked steadily. "I am no warrior. I will never be a mythical dragon slayer. I'm a bard, for Shor's sake," I whispered the last.

Farengar's expression had grown deadly serious while I talked. His glinting eyes, barely visible under his hood, flickered over me uncertainly. His mouth opened, and Delphine interrupted yet again.

"I must go," she stood abruptly. "This changes everything."

Farengar faltered, nodding a farewell toward the woman now standing beside me. "Akatosh guide you, Delphine."

"Something like that," she muttered grimly, unimpressed. When she didn't leave, I glanced at her. She was waiting expectantly with her hand held out to me.

I turned my eyes down to her hand, crossing my brows, and took it. Regardless of what she was doing here, my return was automatically executed.

Perhaps the corner of her mouth rose, or perhaps it was just the shape of her mouth changed as she spoke. "Stay alive," she ordered shrewdly.

I didn't like the way her guarded eyes raked over me, and released her hand hastily, trying to keep from shuddering, or appearing as ruffled as I felt. "That is the plan."

"Good. Send me a copy of that, when you've deciphered it."

The last was an order sent Farengar's way, and then she raised her hood and was gone.

It was as though a looming shadow that might crush me had left the room with her; I sighed with relief, suddenly aware that I had been holding my breath, and reconsidered my childish determination to remain standing. I sank into the chair Delphine had fleetingly occupied, and glanced up to the mage.

Farengar was standing over his desk, watching me closely.

I frowned, feeling helpless and suddenly very lost and small. "Please, say something."

"You are Dragonborn."

I nodded, though my heart thudded at the confirmation. "I guessed as much. But what does it mean? I can't slay dragons."

Farengar smirked. "It means so much more than that. It means you have been blessed and carry the blood of Akatosh in your veins, which offers you certain...privileges that mere mortals such as Ulfric Stormcloak can only obtain through decades of diligent training. Among other things," he reconsidered.

I shuddered a breath, before managing quietly; "Was...my father Dragonborn?"

Farengar shrugged uncertainly. "I am not sure it works that way, Miss Passero. It is Akatosh who determines who is Dragonborn."

I shook my head, confused given what little knowledge I did have about people who were Dragonborn before me. "But, Saint Alessia was Dragonborn, and she passed it down through the Septim line as part of her promise to Akatosh-"

"And the Oblivion Crisis brought an end to that line," he held his hands out, as though it explained everything. "With no Septims alive and no need to maintain the barriers between Mundus and Oblivion via the covenant of Saint Alessia, what further need could Tamriel have of a Dragonborn? No, Miss Passero," he shook his head. "By this example alone, it is clear that a Dragonborn is chosen, not born into the role.

"And so I suppose your next question will be, why you? Or what role?" he pressed on.

I nodded morosely, uncertain of his hurried reasoning and wondering how he could be so certain.

"I don't know," he stated, pursing his lips.

My eyes snapped back up to him, wide and accusing. "You promised me that you would give me answers. You can't even tell me why this is happening to me?"

"Calm down," Farengar bade, holding his hands out. "I can't tell you why you were chosen. But I can speculate why a Dragonborn has risen. In fact, I'm surprised you weren't able to figure that out for yourself, given how much you have already deduced."

I wanted to shout at him for stringing me along. "I assume it has something to do with the dragon appearing in Helgen," I muttered.

He inclined his head. "Precisely. For, who better to combat a dragon, than a mortal with the soul of one, who might match their might against them?"

"I don't have any might," I insisted; a childish whine that made me flush with embarrassment when I heard myself.

Farengar smiled knowingly. "That is the incredible nature of being Dragonborn, Miss Passero. It elevates those with the blood of Akatosh to the ranks of mythology. You are His servant, so He grants you certain...powerful instincts, that will come as naturally to you as singing and speaking does, once you understand how to use them."

He means the thu'um, I realised. Fear and excitement curled through me, urging me to locate Ulfric Stormcloak at once and shout him into Oblivion. I forced myself to remain seated; reminded myself that I while I understood Fus, I was yet to master it.

He sat in the chair opposite me; leant back and crossed his arms, misinterpreting my silence. "It is difficult to believe, isn't it? But it is not every day that you discover you're a living legend. I didn't believe it when you stood before me last, but," he waved his hand over the dragonstone. "I am a man of logic. I won't ignore what is before me."

I swallowed, glancing down to the dragonstone; ran my gaze over the lines of the map. What did he expect me to do now – hunt down the dragon that had attacked Helgen? Surely not.

Remembering the script on the other side of the stone, I rose and began to turn it. "There's some writing, too. Can you read what it says?" I asked, grunting with effort as I eased the stone onto its reverse side.

Farengar rose and placed his hands on the edge of the desk, leaning over the dragonstone curiously. "Not right now," he mused, frowning. "This is the language of the dragons – the very language you are on the path to learning for yourself," he cast me a somewhat envious glance. "It is a shame that your instinct for hearing the dragon tongue doesn't allow you to read it, but I assume that is because the scribing was completed by dragon priests and thus by nature, a translation in itself-"

"Farengar," I cut him off, surprising even myself at my terseness.

The mage inclined his head and his gaze returned to the stone. "I am working on a way to translate these scripts, based on some other texts-"

"That's what you were discussing with Delphine, when I arrived," I said in a rush. I fixed the mage with a stoic expression, praying that he would tell me if I remained calm. "What has she got to do with this?"

Farengar huffed a laugh. "Everything and nothing, in a sense," he met my eyes.

I took my seat again. "Who is she?" I asked carefully.

"She is a village inn-keeper-"

"No she isn't!" I cut him off, more frustrated.

He smiled sadly and shook his head. "I apologise. She is being hunted, and I might sign her death sentence if I tell you, and mine if she finds out I did. Perhaps she might tell you her story, some day."

"You don't trust me, after all you know about me?" I asked him, narrowing my eyes. "I have been completely honest with you."

He shook his head again. "This is a matter which is too delicate for your ears, until such a time as she decides you need to know."

Fearing I would yell at Farengar if I remained in his presence much longer, I stood hurriedly and collected my pack. "Then our time together is at its end."

"Miss Passero," there was a wince, and a warning, in his tone. "I understand your frustration but our time together is just beginning, I'm afraid. Your presence is required further in Whiterun until I say otherwise, to ensure your safety-"

I threw my pack over my shoulder, minding my bow, and shook my head. "You can't keep me here. Dragonborn or not."

"But the Jarl can," he countered reasonably, but in a way that dared me to speak otherwise. "Dragonborn or not," he added with a tilt of his head; then his focus shifted beyond me, as his head lifted slightly. "Jarl Balgruuf," he welcomed in a bright tone.

I turned, and saw the Jarl of Whiterun standing in the open entry. The fearsome Irileth was by his side; her eyes were trained on me and her hand hovered over the hilt of her sword.

I lowered my eyes, dipping into a curtsy as I flushed. "My Jarl," I uttered quietly.

"Farengar," I felt the Jarl's eyes on me. "You aren't harassing Celeste with your unending questions, are you?"

In acknowledging my name I was granted leave to look up, and was much relieved by the kindness I found in Balgruuf's eyes. A part of me knew that it was kindness for my father's sake, but with no friends in the room, I took what I could, and smiled gratefully in return.

"Of course not, my Jarl," Farengar replied. "She has been harassing me with hers," he added, with some amusement.

Irileth raised an eyebrow at this, but the Jarl burst into a great, booming laugh and held out his hand to me. "Come, Miss Passero. I will save you from him; or him from you, whichever the case may be. I have something I want to speak to you about."

I bit my bottom lip as I took the Jarl's hand; my frustration disarmed. "Thank you, my Jarl," I managed.

He tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and turned us, exiting Farengar's office without another word.

Jarl Balgruuf wordlessly led me along the corridor beside Farengar's office and up a flight of stairs; his Dunmer housecarl shadowed his every move, just as wordlessly.

I allowed myself to be led, desperate to ask what he wanted and where we were going, and just how much of the conversation with Farengar he had heard. Did the Jarl know that I was Dragonborn? Did Irileth? Was I being taken to a prison cell? Farengar had made it sound as though I was now, albeit regrettably, under arrest.

We broached the landing and I took in the sight of a spacious war room. My confusion doubled.

"Farengar told me his suspicions after you left, Celeste," the Jarl spoke as he directed me to then deposited me in a chair. It was before a wooden table on which a large map of Skyrim was laid. "And I assume that what I caught of your conversation confirms his theory?" he asked steadily.

He already knows, but is making you say it. I glanced from the map, my eyes fearful as they met the Jarl's. He watched me as he settled into the seat opposite me; Irileth remained by his side, as silent and watchful as ever.

I nodded, wary of the repercussions. I felt like an imposter to be exposed while those around me watched expectantly, waiting for me to perform a song I'd never learned.

The Jarl's grin widened. "Your father is smiling down on you from Sovngarde. I perceived greatness in you, Celeste Passero, and I was not incorrect to do so."

My heart thumped in my ears as a pressure eased over my shoulders, and I shook my head, somewhat desperately. "I don't understand," I implored, sounding meek to my own ears. "Tell me what I am supposed to do."

Irileth scoffed but the Jarl held up his hand, silencing her. "During this time of bloodshed between our brothers and sisters? Your job is to inspire hope."

"Hope?" I echoed, wondering if I was misunderstanding something. "But - a dragon attacked Helgen? Am I not expected to-?"

"On the contrary," the Jarl cut me off, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table. His tone was easy, and patient. "Your existence might do what the Empire and Stormcloaks have failed to do, and bring an end to this war before matters get out of hand."

Still confused, I sat back. "How?" I asked dumbly.

His eyes sparkled with restrained excitement. "Greatness, Celeste. There is nothing to fear in greatness. I don't mean to frighten you, as Farengar clearly has. But your presence will unite Skyrim against this common foe."

"I am frightened," I admitted swiftly, wishing the words gone as soon as I'd said them. I sat straighter and took a steeling breath before my tongue ran away from my brain. "I'm sorry, my Jarl. If you have guidance to offer me, I will gladly accept it."

"Very good," he inclined his head. "With my guidance comes a request; I would have you for my Thane."

I gaped. This was unexpected.

Irileth sighed and I glanced to her quickly; she didn't look surprised, which rocked me anew. He had been planning this?

"Do you accept?" he continued simply.

I shook myself out of my stupor, and stuttered. "I am - honoured, but surely there are more qualified members of the court who-"

"I grow weary of adventurers, seeking my favour with their bloodied steel," he cut me off in a drone, leaning back in his chair casually, though his steely-blue eyes remained fixed determinedly on me. "And, as I told you earlier," he narrowed his eyes slightly, though not in a calculating way. "I perceive greatness in you. Being named Dragonborn confirms my intuition, and I am not a man to ignore the will of the Divines."

He wants to use you, I realised. My mind poured over the evidence supporting this, remembering how Adrianne had told me the Jarl wanted to remain neutral in the civil war; recalling how he had understood more than he said, and taken a greater interest in my plight, when I had related my whole story to him. He hasn't been able to stop the war on his own, and believes if you are allied to him, you will do it for him.

What harm is there in wanting to stop bloodshed, I immediately countered? If that is his motive for asking you to be elevated and honoured as Thane of Whiterun, then he is more worthy of your allegiance than you are of his regard. Do not snub him.

And this made my decision for me. If I was to be used by anybody for being Dragonborn, let it be Jarl Balgruuf who had respected my father, had yielded to every request I had ever made of him, and who was striving to keep the peace when everybody else would fight.

I nodded, managing a smile. "If you believe I am capable, my Jarl. It would be an honour to be your Thane."

"Good," he stood, satisfied, holding his hand out to me. I stared down at it, realising that something was expected of me, but I hardly knew what; I had not been trained for this.

Thankfully, the Jarl gave me some instruction. "Take my hand and kiss my ring to confirm your allegiance to Whiterun Hold and its people, under my rule."

I stood hurriedly, gingerly leaning over and taking the large, warm hand in my fingertips, then leaned down to place my lips to the ruby ring on his middle finger. As I withdrew, I noticed that the beautiful jewel was carved into the likeness of a horse's head; the sigil of Whiterun. Like the Passero seal dangling around my neck, the Jarl must have used this ring to seal his official documents.

The Jarl grinned and let his hand fall. "Now rise, Thane Passero."

There was laughter in his voice, and I couldn't help but smile when the name left his lips. I had only ever heard my father called Thane Passero, and whether I felt I deserved the title or not – I glowed with pride in understanding that I was following in my dear father's footsteps.

There was no further ceremony; Jarl Balgruuf said he would retire for the night, and told me to report to him at eight where I would be measured for armour befitting a Thane and assigned a housecarl of my own.

I thanked him as he departed with Irileth. My stomach fluttered with nerves and a traitorous voice in my head laughed at me, asking what I thought I was doing?

I pushed it all aside and allowed myself to bask in a fierce pride. Somehow, I had earned the favour of the mighty Jarl Balgruuf. Acknowledging this made me determined to meet whatever duty he assigned me, puppet Dragonborn or no.

As I descended the stairs from the war room, I wondered how Lydia might react to this appointment - and everything else!

A scuffle of movement in the throne room caught my attention as I alighted the final step.

Muscle wrapped around a Whiterun cuirass slammed into me, sending me flying back onto the stairs, and he crashed down on top of me.

"Ah!" I screeched.

"Sorry!" the man sobbed, rolling aside and scrambling up a few stairs on his hands before he found his feet again.

"Are you all right?" I turned, calling after him.

"I must speak to Irileth!" he called over his shoulder, racing up the stairs.

Crossing my brows at his frantic manner as the man disappeared from view, I dusted myself off. I shook my head, turning back to my path. He wouldn't find her up in the war room.

I had taken no more than two steps when a clatter of boots heralded the soldier's return. This time, I turned to face him so he wouldn't hurtle into me again.

He stopped on the bottom step and stared at me, his mouth hanging open in horror. "Where is she?" he asked in a hush; his cheeks pale his lips purpled with cold.

My heart leapt as I took in the man's haggard appearance properly. "Calm down," I tried for reason, reminding myself that as a Thane of the region, it was now my duty to offer assistance where I could. "Tell me your message for Irileth. What is the matter?"

He seemed to focus in on me suddenly and closed his mouth, swallowing noisily before shaking his head. "A serving girl will not do. It will kill us all."

With that he turned and fled up the stairs again, bellowing Irileth's name.

I raced after the man, letting his assumption pass, and cried out, "What will kill us all?"

The commotion had drawn Irileth and the Jarl back to the war room, as it happened. The soldier knelt hastily before his Jarl; I watched on from the landing.

"A dragon, my Jarl," he managed through his terror.

"Dragon?" Irileth's eyes snapped to me at once, as though it was my doing.

I baulked; rooted to the spot. Was it?

"It's been circling the Western watchtower the past hour, determining how best to make a meal of us!" the guard stammered, the terror thick in his throat.

"On your feet, soldier," the Jarl ordered, but his tone was patient, and his eyes flickered to me as the man complied. It wasn't judgement I saw in his regard, but surprise. "Thane Passero. You are returned already?"

"Thane?" the guard asked; the distraction not enough to mask his distress.

Dragged out of my stupor, I took a step toward him and lowered my head. "I never left, my Jarl," I spoke with as much grace as I could muster.

"I am glad," he replied officiously. "Irileth, take everyone on duty to the Western watchtower and deal with the beast that razed Helgen once and for all."

I lifted my gaze, startling inwardly when I realised the Jarl's eyes had never left me. "Thane Passero will go with you."

The blood drained from my face.

"My Jarl, respectfully – she will slow us down and I have-" Irileth intoned with barely-restrained fury.

"Of those within my walls," he cut in over her; still composed, but a little louder than before, "she is the only one who has witnessed a dragon attack. You will take her, Irileth, and you will listen to and act on any and all advice she has. You and my soldiers are to protect her with your lives."

After a weighty pause, she replied.

"As you command, my Jarl," Irileth lowered her eyes to hide her anger, but there was no masking why her body shook.

I bit my bottom lip as tears sprung to my eyes; I couldn't oppose the Jarl's order, particularly now I was his Thane! Why had I accepted him so swiftly? I had known that he wanted to use me to help end the war, and I had assumed this meant he would parade me before his soldiers as the fabled Dragonborn and have me speak a few pretty words occasionally, but this? I had not been under his command for an hour, and he was sending me into the field to face a dragon? The beast who had destroyed an entire town, and legions of the Empire's men and women, civilians, and Stormcloaks?

I sank to my knees and lowered my eyes, pleading, though my voice was barely a whisper. "My Jarl. Please. I will give any assistance that you believe me capable of giving, but I do not know how to fight a dragon. Your housecarl is right; I will be a hinderance and danger to your guards," I talked swiftly as words entered my head. "I beg you; do not send me out to face the beast, for it is a fight I have no chance of winning."

There was a shuffle of footsteps and a rustle of fabric; the Jarl's hand entered my blurred vision, extended to me.

"Rise," he told me in his kind, commanding tone; the tone that suggested that his words were a request, unless I opted to oppose him.

I glanced from the open palm, to his face; imploring him to change his mind. I accepted his hand and let him help me to my feet, and didn't dare say any more.

"I do not wish to use your words against you," he released me.

I shuddered, leaning a hand on the table to steady myself, wanting to throw up.

"But you stood before me only days ago and asked me to send men and women to Riverwood to fight a dragon, should it appear," he recalled calmly.

I nodded as my lip trembled, remembering. I knew what he was coming to, but there was nothing to do but let him continue his lecture.

He paced behind me; stood beside me, then placed both of his hands on the table, sighing at the map. "You assured me then that, duly warned and prepared for such an attack, my people would stand a chance of defeating this wyrm," he turned to look down at me; his expression blank but his eyes now hard. "Did you lie to me that day, or do you no longer believe this yourself?"

I lowered my eyes, unable to bear his judgement, and uncertain of how to reply. All I could do was shake my head.

I felt his gaze leave me, and his voice softened marginally. "I am under no delusion that being Dragonborn gives you...supernatural strength to overcome this beast at this time, or the Helgen incident might have ended differently. But it is my desire to send you with Irileth, not as a soldier, but an advisor. As my Thane, and as a survivor of Helgen. You are not expected to lift an axe or charge into battle, but to remain in the watchtower as proof to my men and women that a dragon does not equate to a death sentence. To lend what courage and knowledge you have from your experiences."

It won't be enough, I wanted to cry, but instead I found myself nodding. The Jarl had decreed that I go, so go I must.

"There is no time to delay," he spoke up again, louder this time. "Irileth, take Celeste under your wing, make haste to the Western watchtower, and bring down this dragon before word of it reaches the city and creates a panic we cannot hope to contain."

The Dunmer was by my side in a beat. I glanced up to her hard red eyes fearfully, feeling small and purposeless as tears shuddered in mine, but did not dare to fall. She raised an eyebrow at my response, but addressed the Jarl. "It shall be done. Come on."

The latter was aimed at me, and I followed her in a daze. Each step drew me closer to the beast I had hoped I would never see again.

–

"That's not the dragon that attacked Helgen," I crossed my brows and frowned, peering at it from the window in the watchtower we had taken refuge in.

"What? Speak up, child," Irileth barked.

The soldiers in the yard below started calling out in warning and alarm, rushing to the posts Irileth had designated when we had arrived.

I tore my eyes from the small, circling creature, high above us and posing no current threat, and faced Irileth. Seeing the dragon had not rendered me as mute and frozen with dread as I had assumed it would. "It's not the dragon that attacked Helgen," I repeated, more certain this time. "It's smaller. And it's a sort of...golden colour, I think – not black," I mused, waving my hand at the window. Both Masser and Secunda were risen, and as the circling creature descended the light of the moons played off its hide, making the scales there shimmer as though it was swimming through waves, not soaring through the sky.

"How is that helpful or relevant?" Irileth scoffed, then joined me at the window, peering up for herself.

I flickered an uneasy glance the Dunmer's way; she had never hidden the fact that she didn't want me here, but to her credit, she had abided by the Jarl's orders and not simply pushed me out of the way. We had charged out of Whiterun, Irileth gathering what guards she could as we moved, and had fired question after question at me, asking for my account of what had occurred with the dragon in Helgen.

This dragon was clearly not the same one, though. Which meant that...

"There's more than one dragon in Skyrim," I muttered, closing my eyes in defeat.

As though in answer to my realisation, a furious keening scream cut through the night. My mind buzzed as the word 'Yol' was uttered. The translation rippled through me like an chord on a lute; fire.

It's happening again. My eyes snapped open in time to see flames pour down from the skies in an arced wave, scrabbling for purchase on the tundra and lighting it up.

"I know how to help," I whispered suddenly. These dragon words, these warnings I was hearing could help those around me.

"Enough talk," evidently, despite the chaos unfolding outside, my whisper had been heard; my shoulders were seized and Irileth was in my face. "Stay quiet and out of our way until this is over."

I nodded dumbly, stunned by her bluntness, barely hearing her as my mind ticked over what I had to do. Irileth released me and ran toward the stairs that lead to the roof, drawing her bow from her shoulder as she moved.

"If you're not going to make yourself useful, you mind her!" the Dunmer called out fiercely before she disappeared.

I stared down at my own bow, clutched in my blistered hand, and let out a shaky exhale.

"How?" a guard nearby asked, alerting me to his presence.

I turned and regarded the tall, fearful man - the same soldier who had run the message up to Dragonsreach earlier. His form was cast in half shadow, half light as the flames outside played with the shiny metal on his armour. Irileth's unkind command to mind her – me – suddenly made more sense.

"How can you help us?" he repeated. "How can anybody help us?" he added, his voice cracking with fear.

I didn't want to startle him further, so my steps were cautious. He was young but at least three heads taller than I, and his brown eyes were wide and lost; consumed by terror. I faltered as the word Yol tore through the night again, and its translation rippled through me in time. It was followed by the hissing roar of flames, and calls from beyond, to fire upon the dragon.

"I can hear what the dragon is saying," I told him quietly, and with certainty. "Each time it roars, I hear a word; 'Yol', and it breathes fire."

"Hear it? What are you talking about?" he grasped his sword handle nervously, glancing around as the foundations of the watchtower shook.

Outside of the tower, the sounds of men and women screaming began to rise above the shouted orders.

"Look at me," I commanded.

He seemed unreachable; crept back toward the wall as his eyes darted around. His agape mouth quivered and quaked in time with the roars of the attacking dragon.

Uncertain of where my courage was coming from in the face of this terrified trained soldier, I closed the space between us and grasped the soldier's chin, forcing him to turn his head down and look at me. I met his distant, distracted eyes.

"What is your name, soldier?" I asked flatly.

He shuddered, closing his eyes as the watchtower shook again. "Bryor Sorinsen, milady," he choked out.

"I will stand by your side, if you will mine, Bryor Sorinsen," I told him sternly. A small, terrified part of me begged me to stop; to do as Irileth said, and remain hidden.

No. If I did not try, then everybody would die. I knew I could help the men and women fighting the dragon if I could just make one of them believe in me.

"I can hear what it says," I repeated pointedly, and he seemed to understand me this time; his head tilted slightly, and his brows furrowed. My confidence built as his features changed. "I can tell you, and anyone else who will listen, when it is about to attack, and we can take cover. But I can't go out there alone - I am no fighter. I need you to find courage, now, before it is too late."

He stood taller and leaned back a little to regard me, though his mouth still uselessly opened and closed.

"Yol!"

"Fire," I whispered; my eyes widened and I grabbedd his arm in a final attempt to drag him outside. "Come with me."

The flames of the dragon's shout lit up the world both outside and in; it had aimed for our window. The man startled in my grasp, but I managed to retain my hold.

I wasn't certain if the inferno or my words propelled Bryor into action, but he drew his sword and found his feet beside me. I released him and we ran toward the exit to face the dragon and the fire storm it was raining down on the Western watchtower.

A/n: thanks for the reviews. This was a more difficult chapter to get into because the temptation of spending more time in Riverwood was so strong. I love writing Faendal, Alvor, Sigrid and Dorthe (I hope nobody minds at the liberty taken to give them the surname Ebonhand; if Celeste is going to remain closely acquainted with the family, it seemed silly that they not have a surname). But I pushed myself out of Riverwood, much like Celeste did.
Moniquita - in answer to your wondering about shouting at this point - not quite yet ;) she's still missing - well, the above chapter should make clear what exactly :D
Cake-san - :O you're relaying this story to a friend? I'm...so, so gratified! I love the idea of A Bard's Tale becoming more like an actual bard's tale, by you passing it on :)