Chapter 68: The Dragonborn's Song
I clapped my hand to my mouth in time to muffle a cry of dismay. Vilkas' words might as well have been a fist closing around my throat.
"Why would Delphine hide an Elder Scroll - there?" I demanded.
"You still believe she has an Elder Scroll?" my shield-brother placed a hand on my arm.
"You don't understand," I snapped. "She can't be in Windhelm-"
"Is it possible," he winced, hesitant, "she has betrayed you?"
No. You don't know what you're saying.
I focussed on timing my breaths, keeping them even. The tears fled and fierce indignation replaced despair. A brusque breeze cooled the trails on my cheeks.
"She was allied with Ulfric for many years," he continued. "Perhaps she always meant to-"
"Don't walk this path, Vilkas," I warned quietly.
"I understand what happened at Sky Haven resolved much between you," he insisted. "But…she has fooled us all before. Even when you didn't want to believe she was on your side."
"I said don't," I hissed, shrugging his hand off as my heart twisted. "If Giselle's in Windhelm, she was taken there against her will."
His silver eyes were bright with deep sadness, the likes of which I'd not seen in him since Kodlak's death. He stared at me, weighing my insistence against the world of evidence stacked against my sister.
"Okay," Vilkas conceded eventually. "I believe you. What do you want to do?"
"Her location changes nothing. We must hurry," I pressed, pushing past and running to my horse.
"It changes some things," his tone was too knowing, too pained. "Why would they take her to Windhelm?" Vilkas called.
"I don't know!" I grabbed the saddle and shoved a boot in the stirrup, hauling myself up.
"Well I do!" Vilkas' footfalls followed, heavy as he crunched through fallen pine needles and old, slushy snow.
My horse made a disgruntled noise as I angled the reigns to turn her around.
"Think, Celeste! They think she's you!" he tugged the reigns out of my grasp. "Nobody is being let in or out of Windhelm without Ulfric Stormcloak's permission. They have clearly been given permission. So the question you need to ask yourself is - why would Delphine and Esbern take you to Windhelm?"
I stared at Vilkas, stilled into shock. I hadn't though of that.
"I've no idea," I paled.
"Stormcloak is desperate," Vilkas muttered darkly. "He probably wants to use you to strike a bargain with the Empire. And what do you think will happen when they realise who they really have?" his eyes narrowed. "She becomes the bait to ensure your arrival."
"I can't leave her with them," I shook my head firmly, yanking at the reigns. "You have no idea-"
"Do you want to let them control you?" Vilkas cut me off in earnest.
"She's my sister!" I cried, motioning wildly to the east. "You don't know what the Blades and Ulfric did to her! I won't abandon her to suffer any more on my account!"
"Okay," Vilkas' tried for soothing, but just sounded desperate. "You're right - I don't know what happened, but I can make a good enough guess," he relinquished the reigns, placed his hand over mine instead. "And I'm here to ensure that fate does not ensnare you," he grumbled roughly.
I couldn't suppress a shudder. "I would kill them first," I whispered.
"You are many things," Vilkas' mouth tilted down. "You're my friend, my sister, my Harbinger-"
"I'm not your Harbinger," I grumbled.
"You're a warrior," he continued, undeterred. "You're a bard, a leader and a fierce, beautiful young woman. You're the Dragonborn. But you're not a killer."
Vilkas asked me to think on it, then mounted up, pausing to take another too-deep, focussing breath. When he looked to the east, his eyes blazed like the sun, and our conversation was over.
We continued on, but after a few short minutes, Vilkas held up his hand and drew his horse to a halt.
"What is it?" I asked, slowing beside him.
He said nothing, wearing a frown as his narrowed, golden eyes flickered back and forth, first to me, then to the east, then back to me again, his nostrils flaring.
"She's gone."
"Gone?" I baulked.
"Her scent. Was there. But it's gone. Give me a minute," he grumbled.
"What does gone mean, have they left Windhelm?" I shrieked.
"It means I can't smell her, which means either they've figured out we're tracking her, and have encased her in silver, or-" he cut himself off, closed his eyes, and did that too-deep breathing thing again.
"What?!" I couldn't just wait for him to finish. "Or what, Vilkas?!"
"Never mind," he grumbled, opening his eyes and fixing his gaze on the horizon. "Nothing has changed. We make for Windhelm. It is the only way to find her."
He refused to say any more and I refused to complete his sentence with the horrors my mind created.
—
Hours later, I had no idea if Vilkas was following a trail or merely making for Windhelm to stop me from panicking, and still had no idea of how to get Giselle out of Windhelm when we arrived. Delphine and Esbern knew I could use a werewolf to track them, so if they had hidden her from my shield-brother, it was likely they did want her for something. Or me for something. But what?
I was convincing myself I could bargain with Stormcloak, then use Feim to escape if only I could get close enough to my sister, as I had done with Onmund, when seemingly out of nowhere, my shield-brother let out a bark of a laughter.
I startled so fiercely I nearly toppled from my horse. "What is it?!"
Vilkas changed direction, moving onto what looked like a goat track, winding aimlessly over the adjacent mountain.
"The Legion!" he laughed again. "It's Farkas!"
My eyes widened; in the panic to get Giselle, I'd briefly forgotten who else was on their way to Windhelm, to end the war.
"And Hadvar?" I squeaked, hurrying after him.
"And Hadvar!" Vilkas confirmed triumphantly, flashing a grin over his shoulder. "This is perfect. You don't like to argue with him."
I glanced to my hands clenched around the reigns to hide my smile. "I don't like to argue with you, either!"
"Sure you do," Vilkas rumbled, all warmth. "Come on, they're over this ridge."
Manoeuvring our horses between snow-covered ruins and fallen trees, we crested the mountain and halted at the peak to take in the view to the west.
I gasped, reaching out to grab Vilkas' arm, my fear for my sister pressed down by awe in the sight before us.
There were hundreds, thousands of soldiers and tents assembled in the valley, clustered around the gurgling river and continuing over a rise further west. Red and yellow flags shone and armour glittered in the afternoon sun.
Vilkas gave an easy chuckle. "It might be easier than we thought to get your sister out, with the army behind you."
A taunting, snow-kissed breeze fluttered my hair, and my neck goosepimpled.
Giselle is a wanted criminal.
My hope diminished. If they helped save her, it would only be to stand trial and face the Empire's justice for her part in the war.
Vilkas, of course, noticed my shift in mood. "Yeah. You might have to explain to somebody about what they did to her," Vilkas said quietly. "You don't have to tell me, but. They're not unreasonable. Once they know what you know..."
I made myself agree, though felt too grim at the weight of her past to recapture the relief I'd felt when sighting the assembled might of the Legion. I'd been trying to figure out an irrefutable way to absolve her, but thought I'd have more time to organise her defence, while she was hidden away, safe at Hrothgar.
But there really was no more time. The threads of our lives were so intertwined, I had been deluding myself they could be separated and dealt with one at a time.
"I will speak for her."
—
Six officers wearing high-quality steel met us part way down the mountain. A Captain welcomed me with formal warmth, explaining they were to escort Vilkas and I into the encampment.
"Your timing couldn't be better, Lady Dragonborn," the Captain grinned from atop his horse. "Your presence will be just the boost in morale our troops need before the penultimate battle."
I merely nodded and thanked him, and asked him to lead the way. A shiver of guilt crawled down my spine at how selfish I was being. I hadn't even considered riding in to help the Legion in my panic to find Giselle, but then almost every other time I'd asked if I might help, sometimes demanded to help, I'd been politely told to stay out of it, despite my success in the defence of Whiterun.
Up close the camp buzzed with voices, some casual, others commanding. There was the dull clop of horses hooves, the ring of steel meeting steel as soldiers worked through drills and smiths made new weapons and repaired old.
I looked for Farkas and Hadvar but saw neither while my retinue took Vilkas and I to a stable yard made of fresh pine posts and rope. After leaving the horses with a hand, we continued on foot to a command tent: a large, fully enclosed, tan-coloured canvas with the Imperial Dragon secured high above the other flags.
A pair of soldiers in heavy, bronze-coloured armour stood either side of the tent opening. Their helmets covered their faces with only a dark slot for their eyes, making them appear more like statues than actual people. They must have been able to see enough, or maybe some signal passed from the Captain, for they opened the tent to let us in before anybody said a word.
It was bright and warm inside the tent, full of bodies and chatter and lit by torches tethered to metal posts hammered into the earth. There were three large tables covered in maps, lists and journals and flanked by clusters of high-ranking officers, their expressions ranging from professional to speculative to grim.
I recognised General Tullius, Commander Maro, Legates Rikke, Telendas and Tituleius and-
He's here.
My heart swelled with relief to see Hadvar standing beside Farkas and Captain Aldis, hands pressed to the table and brows crossed in thought as he listened to whatever the General was talking about. He looked stern and tired, but good, and only Vilkas' hand on my arm stopped me from racing around the table to launch myself at him.
Farkas felt our approach, elbowing Hadvar in the ribs, nodding in our direction when my fiancee shot him a questioning look.
He glanced up and our eyes met, and his widened in panic.
It was a look that chilled me to my core, grabbed hold of my chest and squeezed the breath from my lungs.
"Lady Dragonborn, Sirs," the Captain leading us announced with a salute.
A sea of faces turned their attention to me.
"Miss Passero," General Tullius greeted, a hint of pleasant surprise to his tone. "Thank you for joining us. Welcome to Eastmarch camp. You have earned a seat at our command table if…that's why you're here?"
I made myself break Hadvar's gaze, forced myself to clear the uncertainty from my throat. No matter how the General made concessions for my appearance, I had not earned a seat at their table - and couldn't simply take one because I needed their help on the eve of battle.
Sobered, I met Tullius' gaze and offered him a small nod. "I am honoured, and will do all in my power to assist the Empire to bring peace to Skyrim. I was hoping…" I faltered, painfully aware of the gaze of every person in the room.
How could I tell all these people about what had happened to Giselle? How was she their problem? They were in the middle of a war.
"Excuse me," Hadvar murmured, moving to make his way around the table. "Celeste - what's happened - are you all right?"
"Easy, Legate," Tullius clipped with what might have passed for humour; a few of the officers exchanged knowing glances. "I'm sure you and your fiancee have a lot to say to one another, but I need you and your head in this moment to finalise the invasion sequence. You'll still have time to catch up before the march commences at dawn. Is that going to be a problem?"
"No, sir," Hadvar conceded, stepping back to his place at the table, eyes never leaving mine. Farkas patted him on the shoulder, and I wondered what manner of feelings my shield-brothers were picking up from him; he looked torn.
"General Tullius," I shifted my gaze from Hadvar again. After the Emperor's letter fiasco, he was my best chance. "It is…I actually need to speak to you in private."
"I'm afraid it will have to wait," he drawled. "Please - join us," he motioned to a space at the table.
It really couldn't wait, but I felt there was little choice if I wanted to be heard later. I flickered a glance Commander Maro's way; the man's eyes were sharp and calculating, focussed on my every twitch.
"Of course," I murmured, stepping up to join the Imperial officers as they made room for me. Vilkas took his place beside me, and between him and the tall, beefy Nord Captain on my left, I couldn't help but feel small and insignificant.
The meeting resumed, and I tried to focus on Tullius' words, and not wonder if my sister's identity had been discovered.
"…Serving as signal to Theta squad to start bringing down the western wall at marks five and twelve, while Rho squad and their subsidiaries will mount an offence via marks one and two."
"What about the main gates?"
"Too heavily fortified. Our best chance has always been…"
Even if they discover Giselle's identity, Stormcloak and the Blades are unlikely to harm her, if they mean to secure my cooperation with - whatever it is they want.
"Once marks five and twelve are at twenty-five percent, I want archers from Eta and Mu squad to clear a path for…"
If they mean to trade me for Giselle…Ulfric will probably insist the Empire stand down and leave Skyrim, in exchange for my life.
"Assuming marks eight and nine are toppled by then, we advance the siege engines on the remaining slivers of wall-"
"And if they're not?"
"Make it happen. By then at least 50% of the foot soldiers will be in the city, so it'll depend on distribution of our forces. We don't want to take out our own men."
"Or civillians."
"Quite right, Captain."
"Perhaps the siege engines should focus on the main gate? It's doubtful civilians or Legion soldiers will be anywhere near it."
"Mm. That's a good point. Legate Rikke?"
"I'm inclined to agree with Aldis, sir. The main gate is the easiest way into Windhelm."
The Empire won't hold my life above all others. If I trade myself for Giselle, I have to figure a way out of there, alone.
"-Kings was all but empty of high-ranking supporters, at our last report. Was it empty when you were there, Lady Dragonborn?"
I snapped to attention, staring at General Tullius for a beat. Windhelm. Kings. Palace of the Kings. Empty. My mind scrambled to knit it together.
"There was only Ulfric and a handful of Generals," I said in a voice too smooth and calm to be my own. "His war room was empty."
"You saw the war room?"
"Yes, it was where I spoke to him on behalf of Jarl Balgruuf," I glanced at Hadvar. His cautious look made me pause for breath. "It was months ago," I glanced down.
"And Stormcloak himself," Legate Rikke spoke up. "Was he…of sound mind, would you say?"
With a jolt, I realised I was the last person in this room to stand before him, hold a conversation with him. The Legion didn't realise how much they needed my sister, not me, at this table in this moment.
I gave the Legate a small, cursory nod, recalling what Giselle had told me of him. "His ideas are misguided, fed by ego and fierce patriotism. But I don't believe he's clinically mad."
There were some murmurs, and Vilkas' hand gently squeezed my arm.
"That makes our job easier," General Tullius drawled, wrinkling his nose with distaste. "He can't plead insanity."
They mean to capture and try him?
Then perhaps there is hope for Giselle yet. When the Empire understands what happened to her…
This inkling of relief buoyed me for the remainder of the strategy meeting, and the moment Tullius adjourned, I darted around the other officers to face him.
"General, if we might have that talk now-?"
"Yes, yes. Thank you for your patience," Tullius motioned for us to leave.
"Celeste?" Hadvar's hand was at my back.
I turned hastily to look at him, unable to squash my smile. "It's such a relief to see you," I threw my arms around him, uncaring of the eyes in the room.
"You can't be here," he whispered urgently, strong arms encircling me, hands clenched at my waist. "We march on Windhelm at dawn-"
"Lady Dragonborn?" General Tullius' tone was disapproving and stern.
I withdrew to offer the General an apologetic smile. "Might Legate Reidarrson accompany-"
"Yes, obviously," the General waved a dismissive hand. "Come on, all of you."
He turned on his heel and marched to the exit. I gave Hadvar a curious glance before we followed.
Outside, Hadvar took my hand and wound our fingers together, but we walked in solemn silence. Vilkas and Farkas shadowed us, murmuring in low voices.
It wasn't long before Tullius ushered us to a smaller tent flanked by a large, proud Imperial standard, occupied only by a table and a couple of chairs. It was so impersonal it had to be a meeting room - well, meeting tent.
He offered us all seats, but stood behind his own, gripping the back.
"Okay, Celeste," he murmured. "Afraid I don't have time for tea today."
Vividly remembering the awkward tea meeting - and the trouble it had caused - I stared at him and wondered if he was trying to make a joke.
"What do you need to tell me?"
"Right."
A younger me might have drawn on my Bard's training to spin my sister's actions into a tale of sacrifice to capture his heart and mind, to win even the General to my way of thinking and earn his support.
But with the mantles of Dragonborn, Thane and Harbinger - of leader draped around my shoulders, I had no idea how I was going to ask him to help me find her, when there was so much more than one life at stake. There were families loyal to the Empire inside Windhelm who I was not asking for his help to save.
I could not in good conscience put my wants and needs above the needs of Tamriel, so I had no choice but to tell him the facts, and let him determine if Giselle could be factored into the army's plans.
I chose my starter carefully.
"Delphine Comtois is in Windhelm."
Tullius' eyes narrowed. "You could have told the room this. Maro, in particular-"
"No," I cut him off. "She…" I sighed, breath trembling, and glanced to Hadvar for support.
I'm with you, his small, worried nod conveyed.
I looked back to Tullius. "Delphine took my sister into the city against her will."
There was a lull, and I tensed, ready for a fight.
"Are you telling me," he said in a low, expressionless voice, "you have been in communication with Giselle Passero?"
"Since last we spoke, yes," I confirmed, lifting my chin higher. "There are some things about her involvement in this war that you need to know before you condemn her to a traitor's execution."
"You are willing to speak on record in her defence?"
"I am."
"Good. Start at the-"
"Lady Dragonborn! Where is she?"
A child's call came, high and urgent, from somewhere outside of the tent.
At once, Vilkas, Farkas and Hadvar rose, turning to face the closed tent flap, their bodies tense and eyes alert.
"What the hell-?" Farkas growled.
"Who in Shor's name are they carrying?" Vilkas grumbled.
The sound of running boots thumped ever-closer. A pair of Legion soldiers burst through the entryway, one on each arm of a boy in a Stormcloak cuirass, short and thin enough that he couldn't be more than ten years old. His cheeks were as red as his disarrayed hair, smushed beneath a leather helmet.
"What's the meaning of this?" Tullius grated. "You've brought a Stormcloak into our camp?" he roared at the guards.
"A miniature one, Sir," the soldier on the boy's right said.
"I - I'm a messenger," the lad stammered.
"He was searched, General," the second soldier insisted. "He carries nothing, no weapons, and no messages."
"He made me memorise it," the little Stormcloak puffed out a whimper, squeezing his eyes closed.
"Get a hold of yourself, lad," Tullius sneered.
"How did you know the Dragonborn was here?" Hadvar asked with cool authority.
"Sorry," the boy winced, shooting a wary glance at the officer on his right arm.
"That isn't an answer," Vilkas deadpanned.
I rose, heart hammering. If Stormcloak knows I'm here, then…
"Why are you...sorry?"
With a worried glance at my glaring shield-brothers, the boy - child - finally met my eye. It was an effort to not shrink back at the fear I found there; fear of me.
"I know…I know you'll kill me, for what I'm about to say," the boy's lower lip trembled. "And…if you don't, the Legion will," he swallowed. "That's…why I'm sorry. I don't wanna die. I know it makes me a coward."
"You're not a coward. And I'm not a killer," I stepped forward, shooting my shield-brothers a pointed glance, to ease the menace rolling off them. Standing beside Hadvar, I squared the lad. "The Legion won't hurt you, either."
"That's right," Tullius drawled. "We do not execute children. Once your message is delivered, you'll be detained until the cessation of the war, upon which time your release will be negotiated."
The boy nodded, gaze falling to the hard-packed earthen floor. "Th-thank you."
My brows crossed in concern. "Please, just tell me your message."
The boy nodded again, eyes glued to the ground. "M-my Jarl, Ulfric Stormcloak, wishes for the Dragonborn to know the price of her c-cowardice," he stumbled over the word. "He says he's tired of playing games with her, and the cost of this subterfuge is her sister's life. Jarl-"
"What?" Vilkas roared.
The messenger's mouth snapped closed.
His words were another punch to the gut, and the blood drained out of my face. Hands, probably Hadvar's, held me up.
"Get her out of here," the General ordered, swift and quiet. "You give the rest of your message to me, boy."
"No," I made myself open my eyes, look at the messenger. "Tell me the rest. I don't understand. What does he mean by her life? Does he hold her hostage?" I implored, words flooding me. "Tell me where he's keeping her, I beg of you."
"Lady Dragonborn-" Tullius warned.
"Celeste," Hadvar whispered, pleading, at the same moment.
"Tell me where she is!" I insisted, voice trembling on the verge of Shouting.
The boy licked his lips and nodded nervously. "He…" his voice reduced to a whisper. "He's killed her, ma'am. I'm - I'm sorry. My sister died in the war too."
Hadvar's grip on me tightened; I couldn't feel my feet. This was wrong, he had to be wrong.
"You saw him do this?" Vilkas grated, low and menacing. "This isn't another one of Stormcloak's tricks?"
The boy's head drooped again, eyes clenched closed. "Her head's on the southern gate of Windhelm, where Jarl Stormcloak says it'll remain for all time as a reminder of the Dragonborn's betrayal of her people-"
"That is enough," the General cut him off, quiet and cool. "Soldiers, take him to the POW camp."
The boy lifted his head, sudden urgency to his manner. "There's more!" he insisted. "Jarl Ulfric demands the Dragonborn come alone and unarmed to the Palace by dawn, where she'll negotiate the release of her sister's remains and forfeit-"
"I said that is enough!" Tullius fired, silencing the boy instantly.
My shaking hand rose of its own accord to cover my mouth, to cover a sob.
"Take him to the camp!" the General ordered. "And Reidarsson? Jergenssons?"
"Aye sir," Hadvar's tone was devoid of emotion; Farkas merely grunted and Vilkas didn't react.
"Get her out of here. The Dragonborn is under your protection. Go to Solitude and await my command."
Hadvar wordlessly led me outside, around the tent, and I heard my shield-brothers follow. The afternoon sun had set behind the close mountain range while we'd been within, and the valley was shrouded with false evening, chill and gloomy. Torches were lit at intervals, blazing bright and casting ghoulish, flickering shadows at odd angles across the canvasses and packed earth.
"Vilkas, can you get our horses?"
"I'm on my way," Vilkas replied.
"Farkas," Hadvar continued. "Food, water, tent, Celeste needs armour-"
"On it."
"Thank you."
"Hadvar," I croaked, looking up to stare at his face through a haze. "It's my fault she died."
"None of this is your fault," he swallowed, eyes shifting to me, full of fear. "And - I don't believe a word Stormcloak says," he whispered. "He's a cornered rat. He'll say anything to hurt you. Because hurting you hurts the Empire."
Tears welled in my eyes. "Don't you understand?" I wept, tightening my hold on his arms as I leant against him.
"I don't understand," Hadvar encircled me, his tone tight with restraint. "But I really want to. Why is your sister in Windhelm? Farkas told me…you had other plans."
"It was Delphine - Giselle went with Delphine for me. Delphine said she had an Elder Scroll and Giselle insisted - she paralysed me-"
"She what?"
"- and then pretended to be me, to protect me and-"
A sob choked the rest what I wanted, needed to say, but I pressed on around it.
"And now she-! And Vilkas couldn't sense her any more earlier today! Hadvar-!"
"Celeste if what the boy said is true, I assure you the Empire is doing everything it can to bring him to justice-"
"Justice won't bring her back!"
"No," he agreed, quiet and sure. "Nor will vengeance, nor sacrifice, nor blood, it never does," he drew me back from his chest, lifted my chin so I would look at him, into his beautiful grey eyes. They shone with such determination that my sobs caught in my throat. "And if this is a trick to make you hand yourself over to Stormcloak, rest assured that the Empire will free her, when we take the city."
"And if it's not a trick?" I whispered.
"Then I'm so sorry, my love," he lowered his head, pressed his forehead to mine, and his eyes squeezed shut. "I want to do what the General said; to take you away from this - horrible war and all that strives to hurt you," he lifted his head, opened his eyes, pleading. "Will you let me take you away from all - this?"
"I won't run away," I whispered. "I can't."
He sighed. "I thought you'd say that," his voice wavered and grew thick, "but I cannot stand by and watch if you mean to agree to his terms. It's a trap, Celeste, and-"
"I won't," I assured quietly. "If…if I go to him and it's a trick, he gets what he wants, and if it's not a trick, going to him achieves…nothing."
"Thank you," Hadvar sighed into my hair, clutching me tight.
A huff unwittingly, bleakly, made its watery way through me.
He withdrew and gave me a small, sad smile. "I'm at your command. Tell me what you need?"
I stared at him, searched my mind amidst the creeping horrors spawned throughout the day.
"I need to know the truth. If this is a trick or not."
I need to know if my sister is really dead.
He nodded slowly, once, adjusted his grip on my centre and his fingers flexed on my waist. "Then when the others get back, we make for Windhelm. We get as close as we can, close enough for Vilkas and Farkas to pick up her trail again. Then what?"
I nodded too, the barest flicker of hope kindling deep within, perhaps because I was not as alone as the boy messenger's words had made me feel.
"Then…I don't know," I exhaled, made steady by his presence, his faith in me. "Maybe I'll know what to do, once I know the truth."
—
Night fell as we rode through the snowy woods littering Eastmarch, and before long it was too dark for Hadvar and I to continue. Given we were only four, riding through enemy territory on the eve of battle, nobody thought it wise to light a torch.
My shield-brothers had no problem with the dark though, and decided one would proceed on foot, while the other remained to guard us.
"I can keep watch," Hadvar frowned.
"You can catch some sleep," Farkas narrowed his eyes. "You've been awake for nearly 36 hours."
"Oh," Hadvar blinked.
And that was that.
Vilkas set up the tent and worked on camouflaging it with snowberry bushes, while Hadvar and I tethered and fed the horses.
I caught sight of Farkas stripping out of his Legion armour.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
Farkas threw his cuirass into the snow. "What does it look like I'm doing?"
"It looks like you're - oh," I realised, wincing as his arm greaves landed beside his chucked-off boots. He's going to transform. "Never mind," I turned my back, meeting Hadvar's eye with worried uncertainty. Had he ever seen Farkas in his wolf form?
Hadvar's reassuring smile and outstretched hand settled the twinge of nerves. "It's okay. He's safer tonight if he's the wolf. And - all his senses will be stronger," he tucked me under his arm, leant closer to whisper; "He'll pick up her trail faster this way."
"Right, I'm off."
With a final clang, Hadvar and I looked up, to see Farkas standing in the snow wearing - nothing. Absolutely nothing. I averted my eyes hurriedly.
"Farkas, there's a lady present," Hadvar called.
"What? She's seen it all before," he retorted blithely.
I covered my embarrassed squeak, burying my face into Hadvar's side.
"You want to try that again?" Hadvar drawled, though his chest shuddered, like he was chuckling.
"Eh, you'll forgive me. It's not like she's touched it, she wants yours."
"Farkas!" Hadvar and I cried in unison.
"What? I don't want her to touch it, that'd be weird."
"By the Gods!" I uttered into Hadvar's armour.
"Will you just go?" Hadvar laughed.
"What's my brother done n- Farkas!"
"All right, I'm going!"
As the seconds ticked by and the evening sounds grew louder, Hadvar's hands gripped tighter around me. I turned finally, looking across the snow to stare at the huge, black-furred wolf form of Farkas, his golden eyes familiar, yet distant.
Tears choked my throat. "Thank you," I whispered.
The werewolf huffed; a white puff left his maw, and I didn't know if I wanted to cry for the man or the wolf. I stared at him, wondering if there was really all that much difference between the two anymore, for both had always been there for me.
He turned and bounded into the black night, travelling east.
"Don't worry about him," Vilkas assured quietly. "He knows what he's doing. Come, it's time to eat."
After a meal of cold rations in our tent, for we couldn't light a fire if we wanted to remain hidden, I stripped out of the light armour Farkas found for me at the camp, down to the outfit I'd been wearing since the Vilemyr Inn, and wrinkled my nose at the crushed material.
Vilkas crawled toward the exit, saying he'd stand guard until Farkas returned.
"You two get some sleep," he added, opening the tent flap to the darkness beyond. He stuck a boot out, then turned back suddenly, pointing a finger between us. "And I mean sleep. Not - you know. I don't want to hear that."
"Vilkas," I sighed, closing my eyes as I flopped back onto a bedroll. Bone-aching weariness settled over me like a shroud; I hadn't realised just how tired I was until now.
Once he closed the tent after him, I heard the clanks and shuffles of Hadvar taking off his armour, then felt the bedding beside me shift.
When he didn't reach for me, I rolled over to face him.
He was on his back, his eyes wide and staring beyond the roof of the tent, as though he could see the stars though the canvas.
I watched him, and after a moment Hadvar peered at me, then held out an arm.
"Can I…hold you?" he whispered. "I'm not starting anything."
I shuffled across and tucked myself into his side. "I know," I snuggled in. "Me either."
He was warm and smelled really good, like honey and clean earth and hearth fire. With his free hand, he drew the bedroll up to cover us.
"Hadvar?"
"Hmm?"
"Have you really not slept in 36 hours?"
He puffed, an attempt at a laugh; under my hand, his chest rose and fell swiftly.
"We've been busy," he murmured, his hand brushing soothing strokes along my arm, idle enough that I wondered if he knew he did it. "The war's almost over," he hushed. "They march for Windhelm at dawn. So much is at stake. I'm - I'm pretty scared."
I didn't know what to say. He'd been working toward the end of the war, and now his comrades prepared to fight their way into the most heavily fortified city in Skyrim.
And here I was, turning his life upside-down again.
I buried my face into the crook of his neck. "Thank you," I whispered.
"For what?" he asked quietly.
"For everything. For being you," I held him tighter. "For loving me."
He pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head. "Likewise."
—
With so many unknowns before us it was a miracle Hadvar and I slept at all, but we did. Perhaps exhaustion, once given leave to be acknowledged, simply took hold and, having been suppressed for so long, drowned out our other immediate needs and wants.
I woke before Hadvar did, and there were a blissful three seconds where I was snug and content, until my memories woke, flooding me with adrenaline.
Giselle. The Battle for Windhelm.
I turned to face him, studied the planes of his face, the prickle on his jaw and lip, and brushed his auburn hair, made dark red by the shadows, behind his ear.
His hand snapped up to catch my wrist in a fierce grip. With a deep breath, as though emerging from water to come up for air, he opened his eyes, unseeing, the storm-grey hazed by the remnants of sleep.
"Hadvar, it's me," I soothed, trying to calm my racing heart and untangle my arm.
"Celeste?" a tuck to his brow, a brief shake to his head, and his hold on my wrist eased at once. He blinked a few times, then sat up abruptly, leaning shakily on one arm to stare around the tent. "That's…we're…I mean. Gods," he cursed, raking a hand down his face. "I'm sorry. I was dreaming. Did I hurt you?"
"I'm fine. Was it a good dream?"
Hadvar huffed and shook his head; his hair fell around his eyes and he pushed it back. "Definitely not."
"Oh," I sighed, brushed a hand across his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"
"Maybe another time," he gave me a shaky, apologetic smile.
"Are you sure I can't…? I might be able to help."
"I know! It's not - it was just a dream. It's normal, for the army."
"That doesn't make it okay."
"Has Farkas returned?"
"I don't know," unease prickled at my neck, but I tried to let it go. We didn't have to tell each other every secret of our lives; I was yet to even tell him about what had passed between Giselle and I.
"I just woke up," I reached for my armour, tugged the leather kilt over my legs and hips.
Hadvar helped to pull the cuirass over my head and reached for the leather ties down the side. I kept my arms up, peeking at him across my shoulder. My thoughts were tumultuous, and I yearned to find some form of calm, some relief from the storm.
His eyes were focussed through his sleep-tousled hair, and he was so endearingly gorgeous that my breath caught.
"Wow," I whispered, pure hope making my pulse flutter.
"What is it?"
"Nothing - no I mean, you're just so…beautiful," I flushed. "You did this for me on the first day we met, remember? Tied my armour?"
"I remember," he half-smiled, glanced up, cheeks pinked and nose wrinkled a little. I was relieved to see his smile made it to his eyes. "I remember wondering if you'd slap me for doing this."
"Why?" I laughed, bemused. "Why would I slap the man who saved my life, who spoke for me when nobody else cared?"
He shrugged, the blush staining his cheeks growing more red and his eyes returned to the ties. "That…that day was really something, wasn't it?" he tied off, patting the lacings. "Can you turn? I'll do your other side."
I did as requested, arms still aloft. "You haven't told me why you thought I'd slap you," I eyed him.
Hadvar's fingers got to work. "I thought that was obvious," he smiled, more pensive, at the lacings. "We…didn't know each other then."
"I wanted to know you," I confessed, leaning against a firmer tug.
"What, in Helgen?" he glanced up, lifted his eyebrows.
"Even in Helgen," I conceded, though now heat rose to my cheeks, and I laughed at myself as I let the fond memory in. This was Hadvar, how was it possible I felt coy with him?
"I didn't understand what I felt, not then. But I wanted to stay close to you, make sure you were safe," I remembered. "Each time you hid me and ran into battle, I - my heart pounded, and I would search for food and potions, or anything that might help so when you returned, I could…" I met his eyes, swallowed at the bright endearment I saw there. His hands had stilled on my side, at some point, fingertips resting gently against the leather.
I lowered my arms and leaned closer to him. "I wanted to be useful to you," I held his cheek.
His eyelashes fluttered. "Useful?" he breathed, his voice low. "You saved me that day."
"But I didn't, I was…helpless. Hopeless," I bit my bottom lip, watched as his eyes zeroed in on the movement. "But, I really wanted to save you, like you were saving me. It was…" I searched, fingers tracing his jaw. "The feeling was…fierce, and deep, like an instinct, or a memory I'd forgotten until then. As though you'd always been part of me, somehow, and I was missing you, even while you were standing right next to me and it felt…incredible really, and frightening, and…"
I was babbling, and I drifted off, reaching for proper words again. Hadvar's hand on my waist slid to my back, gently drew me closer, and I leaned up on my knees. I outlined the contours of his cheek again, closed my eyes to brush my nose against his, and felt his warm breath wash my lips.
But I wanted, needed him to hear this, because to speak of anything else going on brought too much pain and uncertainty.
"It felt like…like coming home," I whispered, drawing back so I could look at him. "Like I could breathe, and sing again. You did that to me."
His hand rose, fingers brushing my hair back. "Likewise," he choked on the word.
"How?" I asked quietly, exasperated. "I could have gotten you killed."
Hadvar pressed his forehead to mine and sighed. "I need to kiss you," he murmured, squeezing his eyes closed with restraint. "Celeste-"
"Oh, there will be kissing," I laughed softly, bringing my other arm up to his shoulder, tangling my fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. "But I really want to hear how I saved you, because you keep telling people that, and…I want to understand. We've...never talked about it."
He laughed as well, a puff of air weighed by disbelief. "Okay," he took a steeling breath. "I suppose I was…losing myself, to the army, to the fight. Ever since Ralof left for the other side…I didn't care who I fought, saw only - the armour. The blue. And then," he opened his eyes, met mine. "You - you wore blue, but I didn't see it, I saw you instead. You gave me pause. Made me think about what I was doing," he stared, unwavering. "It was like the Divines made you out of - everything I'd forgotten I wanted, and put you in my path, to wake me up. I felt like…like me again."
"Hadvar," I whispered, heart twisting at his conflict. I'd had no idea; he'd always seemed so sure, so certain.
"When you let me help you that day, and then…" his eyes misted, and he swallowed thickly. "When you sat in the wildflowers outside Riverwood, and smiled at me - that's when I knew for sure."
"Knew?"
"You didn't just hold my heart," Hadvar glanced down. "You…were my heart. Are, my heart," he looked up, a flash of uncertainty in his depths.
I smiled, overwhelmed with affection. "I remember that place. I felt it too. I had to stop myself from kissing you right then."
"By the Gods, why didn't you?" Hadvar laughed, brushing his lips across my cheek. "I would have kissed you back. We wasted all that time."
"What, less than twenty-four hours?" I scoffed.
"That's an extra twenty-four hours of our lives where I could have been kissing you."
"True," I acknowledged coyly, tangling my fingers through his hair. "Can you kiss me now?"
The corner of his mouth rose, and his fingers gently rest on my chin, his other hand flexing against the small of my back. "I can. I will. For as long as you want me to."
"Forever?"
"That sounds perfect."
—
When Hadvar and I emerged, the sky was grey and the sun was still at least an hour from rising. The air was oddly calm, and when I looked up, I could see the brightest stars and pink-green smudge of aurora through the pine needle canopy.
Vilkas was by the horses, and Farkas stood by him eating rations, his Legion armour restored. Vilkas brushed down his mare and I could hear an earnestness to his tone, though we weren't close enough for me to make out words.
The pair stilled, then Vilkas turned to face us. Farkas just looked to his feet.
The warmth of Hadvar, his confessions, his kisses, shattered in the gloom. Fear for my sister's life came thudding back so fiercely I felt winded by it.
"I've got you," Hadvar whispered. He rest his arm across my shoulder and guided me toward the pair. "Whatever happens-"
"You didn't find her," I told Farkas. There was no point in asking him.
Farkas frowned. "Celeste, -"
"Ulfric wants you to have no choice but to go to him," Vilkas cut smoothly, palming the horse brush to his brother as he took a step toward me and held out a hand of reason. "Delphine has surely told him we can track her. They could have made it look as though-"
"You don't need to lie to me," I choked, my throat thick with tears suddenly on the brink of falling. I blinked them down - I had to speak. "Please. Don't lie to me," I amended quietly.
"Did you make it as far as the southern gate?" Hadvar asked. "Was there…?"
Farkas swore and his huge hands clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white around the horse brush. "You do this. I can't," he grumbled to his brother, brushing quick, rough strokes across his mare's flank.
Vilkas angled his head toward Farkas, but didn't look at him. "You can, brother. Tell her," he rumbled, quiet but stern.
Farkas just kept brushing his horse. The bristles against the coarse hair was too loud, deafening in the silence.
I willed him to speak and begged him not to, because it was clear what he would make real when he next opened his mouth.
"The kid was right," Farkas grumbled. "I saw it. On the main gate."
Dread punched my stomach. I was going to cry, I was going to scream, I was going to be sick.
"You saw - and you're sure it was…?" Hadvar asked in quiet, careful monotone.
"I'm sure," Farkas bit out.
"How can you be sure?" Hadvar's voice rose; his arm tightened around me, held me up. "Could it have been a decoy?"
"Don't ask me how I know!" Farkas roared, turning swiftly and throwing the brush down. It slammed a path through the snow and his horse gave a startled whinney, stuttering sideways. His eyes met mine across the expanse, weighed with apology. "Your sister's dead. I'm sorry," he grunted. "I…I took it down."
The edges of my vision brightened. A lull followed his confession.
"Did anyone see you?" Vilkas asked eventually.
"Yeah, but I don't care."
I stared at my shield-brother, beyond him. This was wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to work. She gave her all for a cause, my cause, and had been punished again and again. By everyone. By me. The corners of my sight grew white and my mind blanked and all thoughts shattered into shards of scattered pain and regret and grief.
"Farkas," Hadvar murmured quietly. "Thank you."
"I couldn't leave her like that. I…burnt it. Like with Kodlak. Right?"
"Right, brother."
They kept speaking in low, solemn voices, because I saw their mouths moving, but I couldn't hear their words. Buzzing filled my head and light filled my eyes and nausea filled every other part of me, and then there was nothing to see, to hear, to feel but a weight pushing me inward, thick and consuming. It was both blinding and shadowed, hot and cold, furious and agonised, coiling around me in comfort and in rage, squeezing the life out of me and begging me to keep it together.
Rek los vod, a whisper, deep within. She is gone.
Rek saraan. She waits.
Nust hah saraan. They all wait.
There was music - a note, another, an entire melody, vibrations felt more than heard, thrumming within sparks of awareness as they swirled up a maelstrom in my mind.
The dragons, I realised. They're singing with me.
Aav ko kruziik kiindinok pindaar,
Zu'u los hin spaan, hin dwiin, ol hi los dii.
It was the song formed on the breeze, perhaps formed by Kyne herself, now sung by the spirits of the dragons within me, crying out to the souls still in the world, whom I was yet to meet.
The words trembled, demanding I believe, that I remember I was not alone in this world or the next: and neither was my sister.
The lyrics unravelled; memories flickered, scattered like startled fish.
United on ancient birth-death plains-
Ancient birth-death plains. Sovngarde.
- I am your protection, as you are mine.
"She is dragonborn. Just because she can't thu'um like you doesn't make her any less dragonborn than you."
"In heart, in soul - you are the same."
"If I'm to save Skyrim of anything, I...think I need her help."
My sister was in Sovngarde. Our spirits were twined since the womb, or perhaps forever, and nothing could separate us from our purpose.
But the only way to join her in Sovngarde is to die, I implored.
Is it, my spirit countered? Alduin steps in and out of Sovngarde all the time.
Sovngarde was where we would face Alduin; it was the only place we could face him together. And as Dragonborn, if I could follow Alduin's path there - if we could put things right, then maybe I could bring my sister back on that same path.
Daar los dii vazah miiraad. This is my other way.
I gasped in cool, damp air and stared up at blurs of colour and heat ringed with gold, veined by glittering trails, like lightning. As I blinked, the colours dimmed, but not entirely, leaving a halo around everything containing the breath of life. I looked over the worried faces of Hadvar, Vilkas and Farkas, part of the family I had made for myself, and my heart warmed with love.
I sat up, threw my arms around Hadvar's neck. I could hear, feel and smell his relief as he embraced my form.
"Zu'u mindok dii miiraad!" I exclaimed.
"Celeste, slow down!" Vilkas shouted behind me.
"Zu'u mindok dii miiraad, ahrk zu'u fen drun ek hofkiin!"
"We don't speak dragon!" Farkas said loudly; his chuckle carried the sweet scent fondness, of family.
I drew back from Hadvar, my breaths deep but fast, and just stared at him. Nust ni hon su'u.
I blinked, held a hand up between us. An urge to make music with my haal, my hand, swelled. When I wiggled my fingers, the halo around them sparkled and in my mind, tiny starbursts fired, each the note of a song, our song. My gaze snapped back to Hadvar.
"What is it?" Hadvar's eyes looked as wide as mine felt. "Celeste, your eyes, they're…"
"Glowing," Vilkas finished in a droll tone.
"And you smell weird," Farkas finished.
A shadow passed over us, and the others ducked, sending furtive looks to the sky as it ignored us and continued north.
"I'm pretty sure every dragon in Skyrim knows you're here," Vilkas grumbled.
"Drun?" I turned to him, tilted my head and blinked. The intensity of colour and smell drew back another smidgen. "Ni - krosis. How?" I repeated, in the language they would understand, as stilted as it felt to my ears.
"That song. The dragons-" he cursed and ducked as another shadow loomed overhead, but as with the other, continued north.
"They answered you," Hadvar said steadily, eyes meeting mine.
I stared, studied the glow surrounding him. Gold, shards of aqua, sparks of indigo. His pulse raced, the glittering trails thumping with each beat of his heart. Fierce protection swelled within me.
"Good. I know what to do," the words came easier, though a warning flared to life; if I came too far forward, the grief would swallow me whole. "They're waiting for me," I glanced between my brothers, back to my Hadvar, my heart. "Let's go end the war."
I'm sure they thought I only meant the civil war against the Stormcloaks, and while that was part of it, I meant the war between Alduin and every soul that ever lived.
—
I think on a deeper level I knew Giselle had left Mundus the moment the light faltered in Vilkas' eyes, when he first lost her trail. I had not wanted to believe it true, so I ebbed between panic and distraction, clawing and desperate, convincing my surface mind over and over that I was assuming the worst, that if I just tried harder it wouldn't be made real, and things could still be normal.
But change would always come, and normal was a construct, an idea. Stormcloak hurt her, killed her, and Giselle's bright soul had left her crude, borrowed matter for another realm. She was dead, and it was my fault she died. Ulfric killed her to hurt me, to make me as angry and desperate as he was.
And it was a fresh wound, and it was deep and dark and painful, and there was nothing anybody could say or do to make it hurt any less, because my twin, a person who was part of me, had been ripped away and it was my fault he was able to hurt her.
The dragons within - or perhaps my dragon, my sil - made me continue in the moment. I was present and conscious but behind while the bright, strong, ethereally strange other I sometimes felt stepped up and made me walk and talk and breathe and act, while the rest of me grieved and wanted to die.
"Where do we go?" Hadvar asked, his tone cautious.
"The mountain," I breezed, climbing into the saddle.
"Which mountain?" Farkas murmured.
"Strunmah," I directed my horse north.
"Can't say I know that one."
"The place where stone touches sky."
"This is no time for poetry," Vilkas drawled.
I didn't answer, because it was obvious, wasn't it?
My horse joined a path and I urged her faster, as fast as she could carry me over the snow-clumped, rocky terrain. Dawn came and went; the battle for Windhelm was doubtless underway by now, but we four continued skyward, guided by a feeling. High overhead, dragons followed us, passed us, continued before us and looped out of sight. Their scales glittered and shone with every colour imaginable and when they spoke, their calls consumed the sky and echoed through the valley, and the instinct to climb grew more potent.
When the sun was directly above us, the track turned sharply and widened.
Hadvar pulled his horse up beside mine.
"What are we doing here, love?" he asked quietly.
I drew my horse to a halt and dismounted. "I called them," I soothed. "I had to come."
Hadvar climbed down as well, reached for my hand, twined our fingers together and squeezed. A surge of warmth, love and protection swelled in my chest, and I wondered if it was my feeling, or Hadvar's, or the sum of both. We looked ahead, to what appeared to be a jagged, icy summit, all tall angles and sharp curves, shimmering in the midday sun.
"Did the mountain move?" Hadvar whispered.
"Of course it did," Vilkas thumped to the ground, glancing toward me with a hard look. "Tell them not to eat us."
"They're not gonna eat us," Farkas dismounted. "They smell calm. What you sang to call them here - it works on them, like it works on us," he thumbed toward his brother. "They want to help."
I squinted ahead to take in the forms of the distant, serpentine figures. They lay and sat and stood tall, fluttered their wings, grouped around an ancient, half-crumbled word wall. At its highest point sat a large, rusty-red dragon, scales made golden where the sunlight kissed him.
"Stay here," I urged my friends, detangling my hand from Hadvar's. "I lovaas with dov."
"You what?"
"Saraan. Krosis - sorry. Wait. Please," I held my hand out, met Hadvar's eye, and gave him a small, encouraging smile. "I will talk to them. Then, you come."
"Okay, love," Hadvar puffed a breath, eyes searching.
I leaned up and kissed him softly, because I could. "Kogaan," I whispered. "Thank you."
His smile was gradual but as warm as hearthfire. "Do what needs to be done. We're here."
I approached the weyr of dragons summoned by the song Kyne sent me across the plains of Skyrim. Dragons, some the size of a bull, others as long as three giants, snaked around jagged boulders, hissing and growling uncertainly as I approached. The large Elder dragons feigned disinterest, their eyes passing fleeting judgement, but curiosity, or perhaps the lingering effect of the song that brought them here, stayed their Voice.
At this time I cared only for the rust-red dragon atop the wall, as I felt he was the oldest among us.
While I ascended toward him, he inspected me with eyes black as night. I stepped up to the platform at the base of the wall and took a steeling breath that shuddered in my chest.
"Zu'u los dovahkiin; zu'u Selahst-tiid. Wo los hi?" (I am dragonborn; I belong in this moment. Who are you?)
His eyes narrowed and his head tilted, as though I confused him, yet still he spoke.
"Dovahkiin. Zu'u los Od-ah-viing. Zu'u saraan hin uth, ol vaat." (Dragonborn. I am Snow Hunter Wing. I await your command, as promised.)
"Zu'u los ni het wah uth. Zu'u los ni Alduin." (I am not at this place to command. I am not Alduin.)
I turned toward the assembled weyr. I rallied my thu'um and the music within me and channeled the merged strengths into words.
"Zu'u fen ni drun hi thaarn zu'u. Fod hi aav zu'u, nii los hin fen." (I will not make you obey me. If you join me, it is by your will.)
Even the sneering Elder dragons were stilled and listening. In the corner of my vision, each figure shimmered with hints of violet and deep blue, their curiosity spilling out of them as tiny lights.
Perhaps I was the first to sing to them instead of Shout, and they were confused by a strength that did not dominate and coerce. The Circle had been unbalanced by this as well, having been used to Hircine's oppressive influence, and while music had formed the foundation of a fierce loyalty to those I held dearest, it had angered Aela and Skjor, who didn't wish to unearth the truths music roused in them. It angered those who did not yearn to grow, to learn, to change, those who refused to question, to evolve, to be more than the world made of them.
There was a subtle potency to music, deep and more profound than magicka humans used to cast spells. It was a power that, with the right Voice, conveyed deeper emotions, and empathy, and truths. I had seen it change the destinies of man and mer, from unfathomably ancient creature to tiny, ghostly child.
Everyone had been telling me all this time I couldn't possibly sing down a dragon, but I realised now it had never been about bringing them down and making them do anything, just as singing to Vilkas or Farkas had never been about oppression, but freedom and release.
So I sang the song that had summoned the dragons again and poured my all into the words, the melody, the air and sky and mountain.
"Aav ko kruziik kiindinok pindaar,
Zu'u los hin spaan, hin dwiin, ol hi los dii."
More words formed, a seamless continuation so natural it felt odd I had never sung it before:
"Nu fin thu'um lovaas, ol aan dovahkiin mah,
Lein mulhaan erei mu drun nii."
(The translation did not sit right, perhaps because it was not a song intended for human ears: Now the Voice sings as a dragonborn falls, world remains the same until we make it.)
With my song, my plea at its end, I looked over the dragons and held my breath for a beat, two, three…
Odahviing stretched, snapped his wings against the sky, then leapt, hovering as he beat against the air and slowly lowered himself before me.
The enormous dragon's head was twice the height of my whole body, but I felt no fear, merely watched him in his glory, and waited.
Odahviing lowered his head, rest his chin by my feet, and when he huffed, warm air flushed my face and tickled my hair. I laughed, a quiet, overwhelmed thing.
He spoke: "Pogaan do mu laan Alduin's thur, for ok thu'um lost vahzah mul." (Many question Alduin's lordship, if his Thu'um was truly strongest.) "Nuz vahzah mulaag los ahst fin sil, ni ahst fin thu'um." (But true strength is in the soul, not in the voice.)
My throat was suddenly tight. "Ahrk hin sil pah viin," I choked out. (And your souls all shine.) "Zu'u koraav niin, zu'u koraav hi." (I see them, I see you.)
The golden halo surrounding Odahviing shuddered, flaring pinkish-red, and I laughed again, this one sheer relief that we understood one another. I reached out to gently press my hand to the scales between his dark, knowing eyes. They were hot but not burning, smooth as glass, ruby-red. "Hi lost kiin wah bo, ni thaarn." (You were born to fly, not obey.)
Odahviing rumbled a little, the dragon equivalent of a weary laugh. "Ol lost hi, mal dovahkiin." (As were you, little dragonborn.) "Los hi fen wah?" (Are you ready?)
I nodded once. "Kogaan, Odahviing." (Thank you, Odahviing.)
Around us the other dragons began to talk, a symphony of rumbles making the mountaintop shudder.
"Nid lost nu fen wah-"
"Aan vahzah Ron dein-"
"-Bex krif rok."
"Drem," Odahviing spoke. (Peace.) "Faal Dovahkiin lovaas fen oblaan un kein." (The Dragonborn's song will end our war.) "Ful fen un oblaan ek." (So will ours end hers.)
A/n: This bloody hurt to write, and I'll be honest, I had no idea Giselle was going to die two chapters ago. Giselle was supposed to go to High Hrothgar, because she was part of Celeste's team, and people on Celeste's team do what the Dragonborn asks. They were going to face Alduin there. It was all nice and neat and followed the game arc.
And then she reminded me that isn't how she operates, she refused to sit idle while her sister put herself in the path of people who would eat her alive given the chance, and paralysed Celeste to go after the Elder scroll (having no idea Delphine and Esbern would incapacitate her and take her to Ulfric).
The thing about writing a character-driven story is you'll have plans and then when you're actually writing it out they let you know they don't like it by forging their own way and you sometimes have to trust them and roll with it, and then you realise the natural consequences of their choices. It probably sounds silly and impossible to anyone who prefers plot-driven writing. But that's not how I like to write, apparently I like to let them dictate their choices then try figure out how to get them out of the mess they've created. It's like motherhood, really.
And Giselle, sadly, tested Ulfric's patience one too many times. She was useful to him when she could provide him with an heir of Septim lineage, but the Thalmor took that away from her. He was furious she tried to trick him into believing she was Celeste, and her usefulness to him (and to some extent Delphine and Esbern) became how he could manipulate and punish the Dragonborn and thus the Empire.
And the fallout of Giselle's actions? Celeste needs to believe things happen for a reason. The only way Celeste can reason her sister's death, when she feels in the depth of her heart that she needs her, is to forge a path to Sovngarde to find her.
I know this isn't how the Odahviing alliance and journey to Alduin happens in-game, but it feels true to Celeste's journey. Trapping Odahviing in Dragonsreach and forcing him to serve her, just didn't seem right given Celeste's take on her purpose. I hope you can forgive the artistic liberty.
This chapter is dedicated to thuum - dot - org, whom without the dovah translations wouldn't be possible.