Chapter 62: Words of Power

Following a suggestion from Farkas, Legate Tituleius relieved Auxiliary Averrus of guard duty and the young man started the three-hour-sixteen-minute hike to the Imperial camp.

With him was a brief letter addressed to General Tullius containing 'a request from an ally', for two could play at that game.

Before I understood what the Emperor wanted of me, I had asked him if Hadvar might come to Solitude and the General had said no; they were on the verge of ending the war and Hadvar was needed.

Tullius had known what I was to be asked, and I wondered now if he denied Hadvar to protect him. He was, as ever, thinking about what was best for the Empire, and he had said Hadvar was the most reliable man he had. But the request from Alexis Vici turned our love into a complication; a barrier obscuring the Emperor's wishes. I was confident the General wouldn't put Hadvar in a position that might harm him – he possessed more honour than that, and the General liked Hadvar – but I wasn't certain what the Emperor might ask the General to arrange if they felt I could be swayed, if only he was assigned indefinitely to an army post at the back of beyond. It would remove Hadvar from my life, but at the same time put the General's most trusted man out of action.

Knowing only of the Emperor's reputation and nothing of Titus Mede or Alexis Vici personally, I could not risk him being sent away in some emotionless, underhanded, tactical move until I was in a position to command the armies, and thus command Hadvar back to my side – if I dared. That path meant I would have to accept the suit – which was unthinkable, for I would not ask him to stand by me and watch while I wed another. It was the road where I was forced to let him go; give up our love and promises to protect him, as Giselle had done when faced with her dreams about Onmund and the choice offered by Ulfric Stormcloak.

It was not good enough.

Hadvar was not an obstacle to be overcome. I didn't just need him, I wanted to be his and him to be mine. Alexis' letter had renewed my resolve to make our future work despite complications vying to seperate us. Hadvar was my home and now my shock had subsided, the determination to protect him at all costs set in. Hadvar deserved so much better, deserved to know what was going on, and together I knew we could find a graceful way out of this mess.

In my short, carefully-worded, formal letter, I asked the General to send Hadvar with the escort intended to deliver me to the audience. I advised that Tribune Reidarsson was in possession of my family's crest, and I needed to speak with him before I travelled anywhere else, for the sake of my honour. I assured Tullius I would await Tribune Reidarsson's arrival so I might do my duty, and while I did not say so directly, the phrasing left no uncertainty: if the General did not send Hadvar to me, I would make the Emperor wait until he did.

I had no intention of asking for the ring, but I hoped the General would believe I had decided to accept the proposal from Lord Vici and needed to settle matters with Hadvar before I welcomed a new offer. I would let the General think I needed the ring to sign the binding legal documents that would make me the future Empress of Cyrodiil.

Yes it was underhanded and presumptuous to write to the General in this manner, and I feared what he might think if the General showed it to Hadvar, but I had not asked to be part of this political game, and I would explain to Hadvar as soon as I could. The General would be fully aware that, should I accept the proposal, I would someday, quite soon, effectively be his boss.

And I needed Hadvar safe and by my side more than ever. I wanted to be honest with him so Hadvar understood I had chosen, would always choose him, and this offer was simply another quest to be undertaken and won so we could move on with our lives.

But now all I could do was wait.

To keep me from wearing a path in the flagstones as I paced with worry, and to save me from hours of looming, uncomfortable discussion with Jarl Merilis, Farkas bundled me up in the long, fur-lined cloak the servants had brought to my room, and took me to the inn at about midday, leaving my excuses with the Legate now officially in charge of my security.

"Drink," Farkas commanded, passing me a tankard as he slid into the seat opposite me.

I stared at it. "This is not lunch," I pointed out.

"Observant," Farkas grinned over the edge of his tankard as he lifted it to his mouth. "Its on its way," he chuckled.

"Okay," I relented, glancing around the Windpeak as I wrapped my hands around the tankard. I was not going to drink away my troubles for they would still be there when the world stopped spinning, and I needed my wits about me. But I was nervous. Averrus would have arrived back at the Imperial camp by now. The General might be chewing over his options – or Hadvar might already be on his way. Had the General told him of what I asked – was he sad, or anxious or worried, or simply curious?

I glanced around the inn and tried to be interested in the high rafters with their traditional, pretty knotwork carvings. I could control nothing but my own response until the soldiers arrived. There was no use in agonising over it and Hadvar would know the truth soon enough. And the General would send Hadvar, I was certain of it.

The inn was spacious and inviting, clearly the preferred meeting place for much of the town, busy with miners, Imperial soldiers and ship folk taking lunch and drinking ale and clapping along to the resident songstress' offerings.

I was sure I recognised the bard from my time at the college; she was tall with moss-green eyes, pale freckles and glorious copper hair loosely plaited around her head like a crown and woven with yellow wildflowers. She was accessible; familiar, like a dependable sister, and smiled wide and welcoming to the crowd around her, keeping time with her delicately-sandalled foot as she strummed a lute and sang of the sky and sea.

Lunch arrived in good time – a creamy scallop and potato stew with wild greens – and once we were done and the table had been cleared, I suggested we go for a walk.

"This is my first time in Dawnstar," I was unable to sit still. "Can we have a look about?"

Farkas huffed into his tankard, unimpressed. "The inn's the best of it," he took a drink.

"C'mon," I encouraged, smiling hopefully. "What about the port?"

"Sure, the port's great," Farkas shrugged and lowered his drink with a dull clunk, "if you wanna catch something."

"I don't want to go fishing," I huffed a laugh.

"I'm not talking about fish."

"It can't be that bad," I rolled my eyes and stood, closing my fingers around his wrist and tugging gently. "Please, Farkas."

He relented and finished his ale in one large, final gulp.

Grinning, I closed my hand around his elbow as we left the warm buzz of the inn behind us.

The streets of Dawnstar were as busy at midday as they had been at dawn, and I towed Farkas toward a gently-sloping road, stepping into the flow of traffic bound for the docks. As with the Windpeak Inn, it was oddly comforting to be part of a crowd, particularly one containing the scattered presence of Imperial reds after my week in a Winterhold swelling with Stormcloaks. Men, women and children darted and bustled around us, each with their own worries, and soldiers marched, two-by-two, stern but professional and utterly approachable. I asked the first officer we passed for directions, and he guided us toward the winding street leading into town; apparently it wove all the way down to the water, and offered the best views of the sea.

The road brought us around the smithy and past an apothecary, both humming with activity; the ring of steel hitting steel, the buzz of conversation, and barks of occasional laughter.

It widened and zig-zagged left, angled ever-downward. The houses were spaced further apart here and the sea was visible through the gaps between, deep blue and sparkling where the sun kissed the foam. In the distance, colossal icebergs glittered, hazy but proud to attention.

The road turned again and we passed a final stretch of houses before the warehouses and jetties began. While still stone and thatch, these houses sat on plinths; the tide must have sometimes brushed their doorsteps. Laundered clothing fluttered on verandahs and a few old men sat on a porch playing a dice game and smoking pipes, both as windswept and ruddy as the leafless trees hibernating in between the abodes.

"Museum open, free to the public!" a pamphlet was thrust in front of Farkas' face and I startled back. I hadn't even seen the man holding them.

Farkas shot the robed man a dirty look and snatched the paper, tucking me close under his arm. I peered at the paper but was unable to catch any of its contents before Farkas scrunched up the brochure and threw it over his shoulder. "No thanks."

Once we were out of earshot of the glowering man, I sent a questioning look my shield-brother's way. "Museum?" I asked hopefully.

"Not today," Farkas repeated and threw me a narrowed sideways look. "Trust me, okay?"

"Okay," I frowned, pouting as we continued. Our boots crunched over the last of the grit then clomped as they met the wooden platform marking the start of the dockyard. Barrels were piled beside colourful market tents occupied by men and women haggling over prices while others leant by supply carts, chatting amicably and awaiting instructions.

Somehow, Dawnstar worked, despite the disharmony of so many people doing business. Under it all, the sea kept time, resolute and rhythmic, waves foaming against the hulls and stumps and kissing the shore again and again.

There was something about being this close to the sea that made it impossible to despair over the future, as though its vastness put life into perspective. The crisp, fresh breeze smelled of salt and freedom and swept anxieties away before they could reaffirm their grip.

We found a vacant stretch of jetty and I encouraged Farkas to stop. For minutes we sat in peaceful silence, legs dangled over the side watching sailors busily ferrying supplies onto a nearby ship as the Captain marked his list. A fisherman guided a smaller boat between the large ship and the jetty, net brimming with immobile, rose-gold fish.

But minutes of rest, it seemed, was all the Gods were willing to allow today.

A horn sounded a long, sonorous note, far above in the township. It might have been lost to the bustle as it echoed against the sea-cliffs to the west; just another sound amongst the din. But the warning encouraged a pause as the voices ebbed and the people listened. The seafarers hesitated, bound to the spot with eyes intent on the town.

I caught nothing by way of explanation in the murmurs of the folk surrounding us, but Farkas bit our a curse.

"You've got to be kidding me," he grumbled, swinging his legs around to rise.

"What is it?" I asked, more curious.

The horn sounded again and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Farkas met my eye and extended his hand; his mouth curled in distaste; "Dragon."

As the note bounced again and faded, those at the port started moving in a rush. Stalls were packed and merchants ran along the boardwalk. The fisherman frantically wound the end of the net around his boat and a pair of Legion soldiers jangled into view.

"Get to the mine!" one called to the bronzed men and women on the larger ship, pointing west.

Without waiting for acknowledgement, the pair darted east, unslinging their bows from their shoulders as they ran, whipping arrows into position.

I stood facing Dawnstar proper, hands clenched by my side. "Are you sure?" I scanned the skies. "I can't hear anything," I whispered, searching with eyes and mind.

"Don't care," Farkas held his hand out. "C'mon."

I stared momentarily at his hand before I shot him a look; I had been so focussed on everything else that having to think about dragons so suddenly was jarring.

"If there's a dragon coming, they'll need me-"

"You're in a dress and your bow's at the longhouse," he reminded swiftly, fingers clamping my wrist as he towed me in the direction the officers had pointed. "Let the Legion do their job. Sounds like they're used to dealing with 'em up here."

"But they'll kill it!" I hissed, tugging on his arm to no avail.

Farkas barely registered the protest with a furrowed look over his shoulder. "You know how to free them from Alduin's control yet?" he fired.

"No, but-!"

"Then we're hiding in the mines and letting them kill it," he growled as a dark shadow whooshed over us.

Farkas swore and we both ducked, searching the skies.

"Viinturuth haalvut dovahkiin," a voice rippled across the seascape with the dragon equivalent of a chuckle as grey wings flapped and arched out of view, faster than my eyes could track them.

A chill swept down my spine and my blood ran cold. Shine-Hammer-Rage feels Dragonborn.

The murmurs of the townsfolk escalated into cries of alarm. People – soldiers, I assumed – barked orders, but were drowned out.

"She – came for me?" I shuddered, tugging on my shield-brother's arm – too late, as the shadow whooshed over us again, low and taunting.

We ducked again, grabbing hold of one another as our clothes and hair flapped frantically in her wake. The dragon – Viinturuth, she had called herself – soared over us and circled the large ship in the dock, her beady-black eyes tracking the fleeing men and women.

"Nuz nu, aan nahkip."

But first, a feed.

I baulked even as my mind warred; part screaming to flee to the mine, part offended and insisting I challenge her, and finally, part despair. She was huge, almost as big as Paarthurnax, as proud as they seemed to come. The part of me desperate for her to ru and bo; to run and fly before the Legion killed her, insisted if the thrall overriding her will could be broken, she would be Fahdon; a powerful ally in the fight against Alduin.

"Fo Krah Diin," Viinturuth murmured, her amusement plain.

Frost Cold Freeze; the thu'um rasped through my mind.

Another thu'um, I told myself, the clarity as sharp and cold as a blade. Alduin reanimates and controls them with a Shout. I just have to find the right Shout to undo the effects of his.

Farkas was saying something but his voice was dulled to the memory of Kynesgrove; of the words of power spoken by Alduin. The thu'um flit through my mind; Slen Tiid Vo / Flesh Against Time.

"No more time," Farkas growled and grabbed a fistful of my cloak.

My awareness slammed back into the now as my shield-brother jerked me sideways; the world sped up and my focus was drawn to the ship full of sailors, even as Farkas hauled me away.

"Run!" I screamed uselessly.

They didn't hear me; couldn't possibly hear my tiny plea over the command of Viinturuth's Voice. As the summoned frost coalesced and formed, it coated the ship's mast and spread downward as fast and lethal as lightning. Viinturuth's strong legs extended and landed on the main yard, her wings and body obscured by the cloud of deadly white.

Booted feet approached and a large, commanding voice ordered, "Fire!"

No, I thought, though wasn't certain of what I was protesting against.

Another tug from Farkas whipped me out of harms way, obscuring my view of the dragon.

Frustrated, I fought his hold. "Feim!" I uttered.

The pull from my shield-brother was gone, and I fell back as he shot forward then thudded to a stop, staring at his hands before he spun around, searching. "What are you doing?!" he yelled, his mouth curled in horror and his eyes flickering back and forth, desperately searching.

"I'm sorry!" I didn't want to worry Farkas, I really didn't, but I could not run from this battle when I might diffuse it. I made for the jetty leading to the large ship. "Follow my voice!" I called to him.

The dragon equivalent of a laugh entered my mind; "Hi mindol hin thu'um los ful mul?" she demanded.

You think your voice is so strong?

I shuddered to a stop, glancing up as Viinturuth's form grew visible in the mists. Her serpentine head tilted, her gleaming black eyes scanning the jetty.

It was then I realised I had called to Farkas in the dragon tongue.

"Mey mal dovahkiin," she said to the skies. "Hi nis haalvut dii sil voth hin joor lovaas."

Foolish little Dragonborn. You cannot touch my soul with your mortal songs.

"Fire!" another call came from the docks, and another flurry of arrows whizzed through the air.

Viinturuth pushed off the yard, launching her enormous grey form, colossal wings beating against the air with a repeated whoosh. The arrows met the forceful wind and plummeted into the sea, along with the last of the sailors who hadn't made it off the ship.

Crack; the cross-beam snapped, toppling wood and canvas sail onto a now-empty deck.

Farkas must have used his wolf-senses to stay close for he dogged my every move, and I knew my Feim wouldn't last much longer, but I had to use it while I could. I turned and ran toward the town, eyes on the dragon, and heard Farkas curse and pivot to follow me. My form whispered around crates and barrels unhindered as my heart raced in my chest, drumming a frantic rhythm as my body shimmered.

Viinturuth swooped up, her hard, scaled belly scraping rooftops; shattered thatch splintered, flung up and out to rain on the streets and the scattering of people still trying to flee.

"Fo Krah Diin," Viinturuth summoned again.

The Shout growled out of her maw and the resultant snowstorm flooded the streets.

The Legion soldiers raced past me, faster and stronger, their aims trained on the ascending dragon.

And as the effects of Feim wore off, and Farkas grabbed my arm and pulled me back with another colourful swear word – I knew I couldn't wait any longer to try and reach her.

"Viinturuth fen hon!" I cried, even as Farkas tugged me back toward the mine. I had to make her hear me, make her listen. This day didn't have to end in death and ruin. "Bormahu paar zu'u wah aak dov, ni Alduin!" as much as it hurt to accept it; Akatosh had desired me to guide them, or I wouldn't have been made Dragonborn. It was an offence to Him that they served Alduin, even unwillingly.

Viinturuth merely laughed again; her resounding hiss echoed off the cliffs and around the bay.

I stopped on the edge of the docks, my arm strained in Farkas' hold.

"Celeste, it attacked us!" he roared. "You can't reason with-"

"Zu'u fen!" I whipped around, eyes flashing with determination as I commanded his gaze. "Zu'u fent."

"You can stop speaking to me in dragon, too!" he uttered, dipping in frustration as his eyes flickered uncertainly to the city. "If you were armed maybe-"

I shoved off his hold and assembled my thoughts. "I am armed," I told him grumpily, certain this time I was in the right language. "I'm just not using my words in the right way."

"Aim! Fire!"

"Now's not the time to work out how to sing a dragon down!"

"Fo Krah Diin!"

"Farkas," I squared him with a level look.

His shoulders fell.

"Brother," I tried, insistent as I extended my hand. "I have to find a way. Help me do this properly?"

His brows crossed and he stared at my open palm. "I'm with you," he returned eventually; his voice a rumbling monotone. "What do you need?"

I had no idea. I glanced up to the fight, steeling myself as I thought it through. She had found it amusing when I'd talked to her last time.

Farkas wrapped his large hand around mine, and waited.

Flurries of snow whisked around us, tossed up by the force of the ice storm being Shouted into existence above us. Viinturuth sat on the roof of the Jarl's longhouse breathing gust after gust of deadly frost magic, heedless of the tiny dark arrows whizzing into the cloud surrounding her. It seemed impossible that wood and steel might dent her armour. To calm down a dragon breathing ice, we needed...

Yol, the usually quiet, rasping voice deep within provided the obvious. Fire.

I huffed at the voice. Fire would destroy the city, and if I used a Shout, Viinturuth would assume I was attacking her. I needed words of power – words to make her really listen. I could tell her to Hon again, but – that hadn't worked last time. How could I turn Hon into a Shout? The only difference between speaking the dragon tongue and Shouting it was...what? The components of a Shout were merely language and life-force, weren't they?

It had to be possible to turn words into an effective thu'um. The ancient Tongues had done it – even if the resultant Shout had been an abomination.

They didn't carry the souls of dragons within. That has to count for something.

My eyes scanned the area; it was finally, mercifully empty of civilians. Only the Legion officers and Dawnstar soldiers remained; tiny tan-and-red and grey figures darting about firing arrows in the distance.

The language was there, imbued within. I had command of it; slipped into it unknowingly whenever a dragon was near. But the life-force portion?

"Celeste?" Farkas prompted.

I nodded with a conviction I didn't feel as my mind raced and grappled. The Bard's college had taught me how to centre my focus, which was a little like life-force or energy, I guess. Bards had to project their voice to be heard in a busy room, and retain command of their audience.

"We go to the longhouse," my eyes flickered to his. "Try draw her attention to me."

Farkas glanced to the sky with a laugh.

I narrowed my eyes. "I'm serious."

"What if it doesn't-"

"She," I insisted.

"-she," Farkas corrected with a growl, "won't be reasoned with?"

"Then we will defend ourselves," I grit, but I had to accept the possibility this wouldn't work. I glanced away, eyes finding the enormous grey form leaving claw-marks in the Jarl's thatched roof as the snowy haze faded just enough to make her silhouette visible. "But I have to try to do the right thing first."

"If you say so."

By the time we reached the longhouse level of the road, Viinturuth had used Fo Krah Diin again, and the men and women firing arrows toward her had pulled back to avoid the frost. The dragon stood tall and beat her wings, slow and purposeful, as splinters of thatch joined the ice and rained down on the road again. The roof of the White Hall cracked ominously.

"Aim!" the officer in charge roared over the squall – a double-take confirmed it was Legate Tituleius with his hand raised and poised; a patch of white crusted about half of his chestplate. Arrows were lifted and bowstrings pulled taught.

"Hold!" Farkas called, his fingers tightening around my arm as we ran for the group.

We reached them, and the Legate gave Farkas an annoyed frown. "Why aren't you in the mines?"

I opened my mouth to explain, and Farkas pointedly turned me away from them. "You have minutes," he murmured gruffly. His boots squeaked against the fresh snow as he spun around.

Staring at the impossibly high rooftop, I caught a flash of leathery wing above the thatch as Viinturuth beat them again.

"She is the Dragonborn," Farkas' voice rang out over the thump thump of dragon wings. "Let her do her thing, okay?"

Showtime.

"Nid mal nin, joor?" the dragon's voice came; a fearsome screech to my ears but a taunt through my mind. She had noticed they had stopped firing on her and was clearly curious.

"Ni, Viinturuth," I called, clearing my throat; it felt scratchy. Wincing at the lack of conviction, I swallowed and licked my lips.

I needed to be faster. I had been thinking about, talking about finding a way to free them for so long. It was time to act; time to let my instincts work me through this.

"Ni, Viinturuth," I exhaled a cloud of white as breath met cold air. Inhaling slow and deep through my nose, I closed my eyes and focussed on the feel of my abdomen expanding as my diaphragm pulled the frosty day into my lungs. Draw in your focus; draw in your audience.

"Hon Ov Lovaas," I pushed the breath out, willing it to reach her; not a plea, but a command. Listen Trust Song.

There was no melody, but the words sent a rush through me as though they were a song. My shield-brothers had joked about it in the past, but I was effectively trying to sing down a dragon.

High above, the ice-breath and beat of wings stopped, and I could feel Viinturuth's pause. My heartbeat hammered in my ears as I drew another breath.

"What is she doing?" came, whispered from somewhere behind me.

"Shut it," Farkas hissed.

Their attention was on me, but they were not who I needed to sway, so I ignored them.

"Zu'u Selahsttiid," I Shouted.

I had intended to use the name Paarthurnax had given me; Selahst, but tiid slipped through my thoughts like water slipping through fingers and attached itself to the name. Sel and ahst on its own meant merely belonging and at respectively, but tiid – tiid gave the words true purpose. Time.

I belong at this moment.

It was both a name and a declaration; I was not Dragonborn by some random chance. I was meant to be here, right now, speaking to this dragon.

Viinturuth hesitated again, considering. Her large, lizard-like head peered over the edge of the thatched roof, beady black eyes pinned to me as she stretched her neck down.

She tilted her head, studying me. "Hi fen naak dii sil fod zu'u hon," she snarled. You will eat my soul if I listen.

I shook my head, eyes fixed on hers. "Zu'u los Silashtstin, fod Viinturuth fen hon."

I am the one who will free all souls, if you will hear.

Another name; another promise.

Whoosh.

I repressed a startle as she swung her thick, spiked tail inches before my nose. My hair and cloak flapped against me; mumbles of alarm sounded from the soldiers.

"She's toying with you!" Farkas called.

"Prepare to fire!" Tituleius cried.

"Stop!" I called to them; held my hand back, though I didn't dare break eye contact now I had her. "I'm fine!"

Viinturuth uttered another chuckle. "Ful lingrah fah zu'u lost balaan krif," she hummed, "ahrk hi fen lost zu'u lovaas hin lovaas?"

So long since I have worthy fight, and you would have me sing your song?

"Geh," I insisted, the word leaving me on the exhale. Yes.

I drew in another deep breath. "Dii lovaas do stin, uv Alduin's lovaas do zaamhus."

My song of freedom, or Alduin's song of slavery.

"Stin?" Viinturuth asked, her pupils thinning as her jaws snapped. "Zu'u ni Selahsttiid. Dii lok los ni hin."

Freedom? I am not of this time. Your sky is not mine.

"Onik Miiraad Nu," I shook my head, pushing the words out of me with the will and intent of a Shout. Wise Choice Now.

Viinturuth lifted her head to the skies. "Daar bronne fen ni bolaav zu'u bo," she uttered, punctuating the words with a roar that hurt my ears and echoed off the sea cliffs to the west. "Ahrk hin thu'um nis kren laan do Alduin."

These Nords will not let me fly. And your Voice cannot break the will of Alduin.

I watched her speak, heard her taunts and declarations, and a deep, bubbling glow rose within me, coiling and ready to both strike and shield this dragon, this entity who would make fun of me because her will had been revoked.

"Aav ko kruziik kiindinok pindaar,
Zu'u los hin spaan, hin dwiin, ol hi los dii!"

The words of the haunting song I had been forming since Morthal left me on a rush of air, and the meaning thrummed through me: United on ancient birth-death plains, I am your protection, your steel, as you are mine.

But the dov words meant so much more than that – I rejected the translation with a rough mental shove.

Viinturuth stopped screeching skyward and lowered her wings, just slightly. She looked into me, saw through me, and I willingly let her in.

The words I needed to say came to me gently, like an amused, fond pat to the top of my head. I let the brightness of realisation fill me, and breathed in the stark beauty of the sea air, so I might share with Viinturuth what she needed of me.

"Daan Tey Vo," I Shouted, knowing, feeling that this was it. Fate Story Undoing.

These were the words that would free her and all the others, and they had been with me, he had been with me since High Hrothgar, I just hadn't realised it. Paarthurnax had told me of my ancestor, Daanteyvo, and in doing so had given me not only my answers, but also my legacy.

Viinturuth heard the words. Her maw opened as her eyes closed, and she took in a sharp breath. Her head snapped backward suddenly, as though the Shout had dealt her a physical blow. Leathery grey scales shimmered in the sunlight, then glittered like the ocean at dawn, growing ever more vibrant.

I blinked, took a step backwards – and her scales shimmered silver and sparkled like crystals.

I realised, too late, what the effect of Daanteyvo was.

Soundlessly, the great being began to dissolve and scatter; glittering dust swirled up and disappeared into the rich blue skies.

A wave of regret washed over me. Viinturuth was not of this time, she had said so herself. But this was freedom; this was balance. This was undoing Alduin's work.

I felt a hand on my elbow – large and comforting and grounding – and tears sprung to my eyes as the world endeavoured to tug me from the hope that had filled me, and back into the reality of my purpose.

Brother, my mind supplied. I let him guide me as clumps of thatch and snow fell from the top of the longhouse.

"That was...what was that?" a nearby guard whispered in awe. Other murmurs joined his; began to register as more than noise.

"You okay?" Farkas asked quietly, hugging an arm around me securely.

I leaned back against his armour and couldn't reply, eyes resolutely skyward. I had caused her end; I would witness it.

As the ancient dragon dispersed into stardust and flew on the ocean eddies, the coiling brilliance within me stilled and a bittersweet relief took its place. There were no dragon bones or scales remaining to litter the ground and mock the once-great creature; no soul to absorb and trap within the confines of my mortal form.

She was gone, but she was free.

A/n: yes, shorter chapter than usual (by about half), but didn't want Viinturuth's release lost to what comes next...