Chapter 69: The Oath
A/n: a head's up, this chapter is closer to M-rated for probably all the reasons. I think. The line between T and M confuses me.
From the air Windhelm was a smudge of grey overcome by bursts of orange and thick, billowing columns of black smoke.
We flew above it all, high enough that the place where the smoke met an air current and veered east looked solid, sturdy enough to be walked upon.
Hadvar held me, his arms locked about my waist with his chin on my shoulder.
"They've broached the western wall," he said, subdued. "Half the army will be in the city. Or trying to get in."
I squinted, trying to make sense of the blurs of colour I knew to be soldiers. There were too many to work out numbers - and suddenly I understood what Vilkas meant by 'muffled'.
More people meant more colours - more smells and feelings - turning the city into an immense creature in its own right. Picking out heartbeats was like trying to isolate a drop of blood flowing through a vein.
I glanced to my right; the twins were borne by Vuljotnaak, a dragon with piercing violet eyes and bronzed scales. The brothers looked unfazed, at home even, as though riding a dragon was normal.
Odahviing circled the city then flew beyond, dipping lower, and the weyr tracked his path. The sea whooshed beneath us: mirror finish, dotted with icebergs, glittering in the afternoon sun and dark where the smoke reflected.
He turned again. Windhelm whirled back into view, and sounds from below started to filter though the rush of air pouring over Odahviing's form.
The shout of voices, the ring of swords, the mournful peal of battle horn, the crash of stone as the western wall continued to shatter and tumble. Under it all, the roar of flame, the smell of fire, the heat of panic and anger, pungent despair and sharp, cool fear - fear of each other, fear of us, of the army of dragons circling above. Everything, everyone was red and blue and black and Windhelm screeched, a wounded beast.
It was horrible.
"Dov saraan fah hi, dovahkiin," Odahviing murmured, his words throaty, little more than a growl.
I swallowed a nervous lump and there was a different fear in knowing the dragons were waiting for me to tell them what to do. I was no army General and if I told them the wrong thing, dov would die and their souls would ricochet into my own, before I could give them peace.
With a small shudder, the emotion was assigned to the behind me, the kiir who grieved for her sos briinah, sister. Fear's grip loosened, the colours of Windhelm intensified, and my eyes tracked the patterns and shapes amongst the din.
The swirls of ethereal colour flowed toward the Palace of the Kings, to coalesce about a focal point, a miniature maelstrom within.
I focussed on the figure and its form became clearer, radiating every shade of red; pride, passion, strength, zeal, even as it absorbed and transmuted other colours swirling through the universe to fight for it.
He was the heart of Windhelm, and with a jolt I realised who I was observing: Ulfric Stormcloak.
"Drun zu'u wah fin Hofkahsejun," I told Odahviing. (Bring me to the Palace of the Kings.)
They all heard me. The dragons fell into a spiral above the palace courtyard, a scaled whirlwind forging a path through smoke and steel. The soldiers shouted and yelped and arrows flew through the air, only to be snapped back by the vortex and clatter, useless, against the stones.
It was through the centre of this whirling barrier Odahviing and Vuljotnaak dove, bringing us to the ground. They landed with resounding thuds that shook the world and rattled my bones.
"Bo!" Odahviing called, lowering his head to the ground. (Move!)
Hadvar slid off, turning to hastily help me down. The moment I dismounted, Odahviing reared onto his hind legs and extended his wings. He beat them against the air, shielding us, pushing the attacking forces away.
"Iiz Slen Nus!"
The stone arch between the Palace courtyard and city proper disappeared in a haze of white. When the fog dissipated, a wall of thick ice barred it. In the corner of my eye, Farkas and Vilkas ran toward us.
Hadvar held my arms, drew my focus back.
"Where now?" he yelled over the noise.
"We capture Ulfric," my hands clenched by my side. A thrum of protect rippled through me, and I wished Hadvar was away from this battle, this danger.
Behind his commitment I could see the fear in him, in the way his blood pumped though his heart faster, and the colours swirling about him pulsed bright yellow.
He fears for me.
I took one of his hands in mine and stepped toward the Palace. "Stay near," I glanced to my shield brothers. "All of you," I encouraged. "He's protected by the belief his people have in him. I can see it circling him, feeding his cause. We cannot make a martyr of him or the war will never end."
"Agreed," Vilkas grumbled; Farkas nodded once, his expression grim but determined.
"Get me close enough to Shout."
Hadvar smiled sadly and squeezed my hand, and I offered him a sorry smile in return.
As one, we ran for the enormous double entrance to the Palace of the Kings.
There were no guards; either they had fled when the dragons approached, or Ulfric had commanded them to fight in the city. Or they were waiting for us within.
My shield-brothers chose a door and pushed against it. The steel juddered and jerked, but failed to yield.
"He's barricaded himself in," Vilkas called, teeth clenched and arm muscles flexing as they gave it another try.
"Give us a minute," Farkas grunted.
"No, come back," I turned, locking onto the bronze-scaled dragon by Odahviing's side. I couldn't risk using my thu'um yet; weakening my ability now might prove disastrous once inside the Palace. "Vuljotnaak, zu'u laan hin thu'um." (Dark-Maw-Eat, I need your Voice.)
His head snapped as his eyes focussed, observing my shield-brothers, and I didn't need to ask any more.
"Kriist gut," he snarled. (Stand back.)
He turned, his claws kneading and gouging tracks in the stone underfoot as though it was made of butter.
"Gol Hah Dov!"
As Earth Mind Dragon slipped through my thoughts, a beam of white lined in pale pinks and blues curled out of his mouth. I shielded my eyes against the brightness as it struck the front of the structure. The doors, and the stone arch supporting it, exploded on impact. The remains of the facade crumbled and smaller stones and mortar tumbled to the ground like hailstones.
Once the dust cleared, there was a gaping wound where the doors had stood.
Within, there were cries of alarm, shouts of disbelief. I called my thanks as we raced on, clambering over fallen bricks, trying not to think too far ahead of myself.
An arrow whizzed past my ear as Hadvar pulled me sharply aside, shielding my body with his as he pressed us against a fallen pillar.
"Six of them!" Vilkas called over the roar of the dragons and wail of the wind as it tore through the castle.
"We can take six," Hadvar rushed, holding me tighter. "Farkas, you got Delphine?"
"I can smell her."
"Good. Take her out. She's our greatest threat. Vilkas, find that archer."
"Aye."
My shield-brothers dove out from their hiding spots and raced into the main hall.
"The main table is our next safe point," Hadvar hissed, arm tensing briefly around me as he unhooked his shield. "Take this. Cover me."
I gripped the handle, nodding grimly. "What are you going to do?"
He let go to un-shoulder his bow and retrieve an arrow from the slim quiver strapped to his back, then peered around the stonework, nocking the arrow in place. "Clear you a path."
"Be careful."
"Likewise," he looked back to me. "On my mark, run for the end of the table. I'll follow."
"Okay."
Hadvar took one more measured breath, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes before he closed them. An arrow whizzed past us, and his eyes snapped open.
"Now!"
Shield up, I turned and ran for the table. I heard Hadvar's movements, felt the whiz of air as his arrow flew past me and kept going. I could hear, feel Hadvar's thudding boots on my tail, and threw myself down a second before he slammed beside me, back to the heavy wooden table.
A green whoosh flew over our heads; Hadvar and I flinched and grabbed one another. The spell crashed into the rubble we'd initially taken shelter behind in a nova of green and white sparks.
"Did you get anyone?" I gasped.
Hadvar shook his head, breathing hard. "Vilkas got the archer and one of the swords. Ulfric's fighting off Vilkas now, by the throne."
"Farkas?"
"Didn't spot him," he winced, passing me his bow as he drew his sword. "There's four left, including Ulfric, and there's magic amongst them."
"Esbern," I supplied.
"Sure. I'll make sure nobody gets too close and you can-"
My eyes widened, incredulous. "You're not going out there to take on whoever's casting spells," palming him the bow, I pivoted into a crouch, summoned my strength, and honed in on the nearest threat. "Get an arrow ready."
His mouth opened, but there wasn't time to discuss it - I could hear the shuffle of approach, feel the hot anger and pungent disdain of someone new and drawing closer every heartbeat.
I stood.
"Celeste-!"
"Fus!"
The magic-user, not Esbern but Ulfric's court mage by the looks, flew back from our hiding spot and crashed into the left wall.
An arrow flew by me, impacting the mage square in the chest.
I ducked behind the table again and Hadvar crashed next to me, lowering his bow.
"That works too," he murmured. The flash of black against his chest told me of his regret.
I huffed, cataloguing our needs and weighing them against the thu'ums at my disposal. There was no time or clarity of mind to invent a Shout to take them all.
Three left: Esbern, Delphine, and Ulfric.
"I have an idea," I passed him the shield. "I can get us to Ulfric."
"What about Delphine and the other one-?"
"Farkas can take them. Trust me."
"I trust you."
I nodded once and took his hand, knitting our fingers together. "Don't let go."
There was no time to overthink it, to wonder if my Voice would expire. I'd only used Fus once, and my purpose felt as strong as ever.
I faced the throne and Shouted: "Wuld!"
I whooshed forward, Hadvar in my wake. The air crackled and lightning fizzed past but it was too slow to catch us. We drew to a skidding halt at the end of the feasting table, and Hadvar dove behind a chair, dragging me down as another crackle of lightning split the wood.
We scrambled under the table, taking shelter on the other side. Hadvar positioned a chair to block us, and held his shield up for good measure.
"Don't you understand!?" Esbern was yelling - screaming at us as another bolt of lightning crackled overhead. "The World-Eater even now devours your fallen comrades!" he uttered, fury colouring his words a dark, thick red.
"Farkas has his hands full with Delphine," Hadvar squeezed my arm. "I'll engage Esbern, you run."
I shook my head swiftly and picked up a shattered chair leg. My heart thudded, roaring for justice.
"He's mine," I whispered.
"He grows only more powerful with every soldier you allow to be slain in this pointless war!" Esbern continued. "Join with Ulfric, it's not too late to bring about peace, and together you will-"
I rose and spun about, summoning my strength, fury, and grief: "Fus Ro Dah!"
Esbern flew toward the wall, arms and legs shooting out as his body crunched against the stone.
"Wuld!"
I was by Esbern's side before his body properly landed, the whoosh of air fluttering his robes as he crumpled. Bright blood jittered through his heart and briefly, the red tinting his form shifted into deep, muddy brown.
I swung the table leg and brought it crashing down against his temple. He cried out in pain, and while my stomach lurched at the sound, my vision narrowed as my sister's face rose in my thoughts. I swung again, crushing it against the other side of his head.
He made no noise this time, and the colours around him faded to a sick, insubstantial grey. I threw the chair leg down, breaths gasping as I watched the trails of blood sluggishly thud through his heart. He was alive, but he was out.
I turned in time to see Farkas bring the handle of his sword down against Delphine's skull. The woman collapsed like a sack of potatoes and the colours swirling about her dulled to grey.
"Fus!"
I spun to face the Shouter, in time to see Vilkas fly across the hall and crash onto the table against a wrought iron candle stand. Plates and goblets flew then clattered against the flagstones, and my shield-brother shuddered against the wood as blood sprayed through the air.
"NO!" I screamed.
"VILKAS!" Farkas roared, abandoning the unconscious Blade.
"It's my arm!" Vilkas called urgently, roughly, even as I spotted Hadvar's hand reach up, grip him by the armour and haul him off the table.
The blood had frightened me but I pushed the fear away, for I could see and feel his heart, hammering within him, bright and constant.
I turned my gaze on his attacker.
Stormcloak was looking at me, his cold eyes sharp and focussed, his war axe clenched in a huge hand before him.
The smell of blood came to me, mixed with the smell of grime and musk and sweat clumping his hair, trickling down his temple.
"Stay with Vilkas," I commanded the others.
"It doesn't have to end like this," Ulfric grumbled, and I caught it then; his breaths were wheezing.
Vilkas had injured him.
I faced him properly, and my feet started moving me closer of their own accord.
"You killed her," I accused, the words like ice. "How did you think this was going to end?"
"She betrayed us both," he called. "She betrayed Skyrim."
My hands clenched by my side as I drew nearer, and deep within, the luminous, swirling forces made my skin hum.
"No," I uttered, dark and furious. "You betrayed her, and you killed her."
But I was not here to argue with him. I drew to a halt with enough space between us to ensure if he swung his axe, he would miss.
Not that he seemed able to swing; from closer range, I could see where Vilkas had got him, a purpling of his blues down his right side. A chest wound, perhaps a lung. That explained the wheezing.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, I order you to surrender."
His certainty faltered; confusion flashed in his icy depths and the reds swirling about his form shifted to brown. He blinked and it was gone.
"Surrender?" he murmured, an aghast huff as he adjusted his footing. "There is no honour in mockery. Take your vengeance, Celeste," he snarled. "It will make for a better song."
I stared, incredulity pooling in my belly. There would be songs about this time, about Stormcloak's war, of course there would be. But it seemed he counted on the Dragonborn turning him into a legend as he fell; a martyr for his followers to rally behind until the end of days.
"Vengeance achieves nothing," I said, extending my hand. "Give me your axe."
He laughed, a cold, barking thing. "Even now, you refuse to do your duty," his eyes veered toward my companions. "Ever the Legion's lap-dog."
I risked a side-glance in their direction. Vilkas, sat with a hand pressed to his shoulder where the iron had pierced, fingers wet and red. Farkas, knelt on one leg by his side, a hand on his brother's good shoulder and his eyes trained, watchful of our exchange, walking a line between silver and gold. And Hadvar, standing tall, bow raised, arrow aimed at Stormcloak.
"But you will serve me now," Ulfric muttered. "One way or another, you will give me what I want."
I glanced back to him, my brows crossing as he opened his hand to let go of his axe. The weapon fell, the steel clattering on the flagstones and the notes echoed around the hall.
I didn't understand what he was doing until he clenched his fists, turned fully toward my friends, and inhaled.
My eyes widened - my feet were moving before my brain caught up to the action.
"Fus Ro Dah!" Ulfric Shouted.
No, my mind screeched.
I launched myself between Ulfric and my dearest friends, my family - my heart.
"Celeste no-!" Hadvar cried.
And then I heard nothing but a ringing in my ears as the Shout hit me the second after it left Ulfric's mouth. The push of the shockwave hurled me up and back and the force tore at my Legion armour and dug into my skin, and squeezed the breath out of me. I threw my arms up on instinct, a futile attempt to block, and deep within my being, the dragons I had absorbed snarled and clawed, furious at being attacked with a Voice no man should have ever had the power to summon.
Especially this man.
Ro, they insisted. Balance.
The sense of unbearable wrong to his Shout made me fight, and the ringing in my ears fused and faded into a familiar song. My Voice was stronger than his.
On the day he started this war and brought the death of my parents, I had sworn to learn these words, and use them against him.
"Fus Ro Dah!" I Shouted back, throwing my weight against Stormcloak's. The world stabilised and I dropped a foot to the flags, crouching a little awkwardly to absorb the impact.
One hand braced against the cool stone, I glanced up in time to see my Shout reach him and force him back, to stumble into his throne.
Stormcloak gripped the arm rests to steady himself, and I charged forward, unwilling to give him the room to Shout again. Sweeping down to pick up his axe, I used Wuld to cross the distance between us, and raised the blade of his axe to his neck.
He met my eye, the hard, cold ice bearing a trace of smugness, even as his hands gripped the arm rests until his knuckles turned white.
"Do it," he taunted. Flecks of red spittle coloured his teeth.
Do it, the behind me screamed.
No. Do not give him an out.
"Odahviing!" I called, my Voice resonant in the silent hall.
He flinched and I watched him, dared him to move again. I doubted cutting his throat on his own axe was part of the song he wanted sung.
Stormcloak's confusion flickered, but it lasted only a second. Reflected in his widening eyes, I saw the enormous dragon approach through the cavernous Palace hall.
Odahviing halted behind me; his nostrils huffed warm air over my shoulder, fluffing my disarrayed braid, and his voice came, low and dangerous.
"Saaran uth, dovahkiin?"
Ulfric's eyes flickered to me. "Before I am eaten-"
"Shut up," I cut in, huffing in disbelief. "You're not being eaten," I lowered the axe, fingers tensing about its handle; I was confident he wouldn't try anything with an enormous glaring dragon right there.
"Bo daar gein wah Konahrik Tullius. Daar grah los oblaan."
(Take these ones to General Tullius. This battle is over.)
—
Stormcloak, Delphine and Esbern were bound and gagged by Farkas and Hadvar, then taken away, secured in Odahviing's front claws, to be delivered to the Legion. I didn't care what happened to them from there.
Odahviing flew, and the tiny humans became too small, too insignificant to see. As I watched the great dragon beat his wings through the black-smoked sky, the haze of colours, smells, and more steadily faded to curl behind, making the world feel darker, and cold, and the air I breathed, somehow heavier.
It's over?
Closer movement drew my focus, and my heart clenched at the sight of Vilkas, wincing as he stood, supporting himself on the edge of the table. His eyes flickered to me and he gave an uneasy smile. The fading colours about him pulsed sky-blue.
Another beat and I couldn't see his colours at all, and the force guiding my actions left my jul senses on higher alert and body thrumming with adrenaline. Something weighed my arm and I tore my gaze from Vilkas to wonder at it.
Ulfric Stormcloak's war axe, still tight in my grasp. Lifting the weapon gingerly, I caught sight of my face in the steel; dirty, pale, a flash of wide, horrified, ocean-blue eyes. My mirror.
My twin.
My reflection and the blood caught in the nicks along the blade edge of the axe brought Giselle's death crashing over me, and I threw the axe away, wincing as it's clatters rang loud in my ears. A vice clenched around my heart and the need to collapse made me tremble, but then Hadvar reached my side and enveloped me in a fierce hug.
"You did it," he uttered, throat thick with emotion. "You scared the life out of me but you did it you terrifying, incredible woman."
Blinking back tears, I gripped his arms, trying to hold myself together. My eyes flit around the hall, searched for purpose, reason.
There was no satisfaction in winning.
I held onto Hadvar but looked over the flicker of flame, the smudge of ash on the grey stones, the gaping mouth of an open archway leading to blackness. None of it seemed real.
The words croaked out of me: "I need to find my sister's body."
Hadvar eased back, a tight knot of worry to his brow as his hands lowered. "Okay," he whispered, then cleared his throat, taking one of my hands in his and staring at it. "Farkas?" he called.
"The war room," my shield-brother drawled, apologetic.
I nodded, feeling hollow. Hadvar's hand squeezed mine, encouraging - and I looked down to it, squeezed back. My hand seemed so small in his.
"You don't need to - I can go first-?" he began.
"No," I glanced up, met his eyes. "No. I'll go. I need to see her."
"No you don't," he urged quietly. "Let me do this for you."
"Do what, Hadvar?"
I wasn't even certain of what I would do, when I saw her.
What was left of her.
I swallowed, averting my eyes and staring at the stone. Where had my certainty I would see her in Sovngarde fled; had it been a lie fed by the part of me that made fight possible when I'd wanted to freeze?
Hadvar's gentle touch to my chin brought me back again; he tilted my face up and smiled, his eyes full of tears.
"Don't let go of me," I spoke before he could.
He closed his mouth and just nodded.
"Is there anything we can do?" Vilkas called from the table.
"Yes," I glanced to him, gaze tracking his wounded arm. "Find a potion cabinet and drink until you stop bleeding."
Farkas snorted.
"It doesn't need a potion-" Vilkas complained.
"Just," I cut him off hurriedly, closing my eyes. "Do this for me, okay?" I turned away. Hadvar slid his hand around my shoulder, held on to guide me.
"Lydia will be furious if she knows you got hurt."
"Lydia will be furious we did this without her anyway," Vilkas called.
"Exactly," I murmured, quite unable to believe we had been in Whiterun only - what. Days earlier? "Don't give her a second reason to be angry. Heal up."
There were no more complaints from Vilkas, and the brothers spoke offhandedly as Farkas started cleaning up the fallen bodies.
Hadvar squeezed me closer as we reached the threshold to the war room. I stopped and took a moment to suck in a steeling breath.
No matter what he did to you, I vowed. I will see you again in Sovngarde, sister.
Perhaps the pain of finding my twin's remains laid on the central war table is best left as part of that single moment and tucked away, never to be remembered.
As if I had control over future horrors my nightmares would unleash.
Sufficed to say it hurt, but that much is expected, obvious to anyone who has ever lost anybody through unjust means. It hurt, like it hurt to see father killed, and to find mother, face down and lifeless in our garden. The hurt ran deep and cold, a glacier creeping over my soul and squeezing my edges raw.
Hadvar said - called something? - but his words brushed off my mind before I took them in. I wanted to hear him - to look at him, but I was like stone, and nothing could draw my gaze from Giselle.
Farkas and a no-longer-bleeding Vilkas arrived, to lift her gingerly between them. They carried her, and Hadvar all but carried me, out of the ruined Palace of the Kings.
It was then I realised they'd left her in my Thane of Whiterun armour, the armour she'd taken to pretend to be me; the armour Alvor had made for me that'd I'd thought too beautiful to be functional.
I could only watch the motions unfurl as though looking through frosted glass, empty but so heavy as the brothers built a pyre from rubble and the dragons kept whatever was going on in Windhelm from touching us.
When the wood was ready, they lay her remains atop. The silvery chains on the chest piece tinkled as her body settled in its final resting place.
Then they turned to me.
They didn't need to ask; the weight of what came next was in their remorseful, silvery gazes. Hadvar's hand drifted, fingers tracing my arm and releasing me as I stepped closer to the pyre.
I made myself look up, to what was left of my beautiful sister's body, and the shining armour made by a wonderful, talented, too-kind man to keep the Dragonborn protected from harm.
I had been given that title, but Giselle had earned it. She'd fought to save Tamriel, given up everything she wanted and loved, and nobody had known. She was condemned, and punished, and killed for her sacrifices.
It was not fitting I cremated her in this armour because nothing about this was fitting. I was loathed to destroy a piece of Alvor's memory with her. But it was the only honour I could give her, and if he was watching from Sovngarde, I hoped he would understand.
She's watching from Sovngarde, too.
I huffed at the sliver of certainty my mind clung to. Whether Giselle waited for me there in spirit or not, I could not avoid going as I had avoided going to the Greybeards for so long. And perhaps it was best I did not wait to recover from her death to face Alduin.
But going to Sovngarde would come after. Right now, I needed to send my sister's remains to Kynareth, or Shor, or whichever Divine would whisk her away to become part of the world in another form.
Placing my hand on the dry wood, I steadied myself with a deep breath, and called up my thu'um.
"Yol," I whispered.
The flames latched onto a greying beam and whooshed toward the centre of the pyre, and I stepped back into Hadvar's embrace.
There would be songs about her, songs that lived through eras, passed down from bard to bard. If I survived Alduin and did nothing else with my life, I would see those songs told the truth.
I watched for as long as I could, holding my breath until the flames danced against her delicate, motionless fingers, and then turned my face into Hadvar's chest, and sobbed myself hoarse.
—
After I cried until I was empty, until there was nothing left but ash, when the victory cries of the Legion echoed around the high walls still standing, Odahviing carried my shield-brothers, Hadvar and I back to Whiterun.
He delivered us to Dragonsreach, landing on the cavernous Great Porch, and we dismounted amidst shouts of alarm from the Whiterun Guard.
I caught a string of curses in Irileth's distinct tones as my boots touched the flagstones, and turned back to Odahviing as the dragon lowered his head.
"Kogaan," I thanked, my palm pressed to the smooth scales between his eyes.
He closed them. "Bel zu'u fod nii los tiid." (Summon me when it is time.)
"Zu'u fen."
"Why in Shor's name is there a dragon on my porch, Thane Passero!"
I spun around, blood draining from my face as I took in the Jarl's positively gleeful expression.
Behind me, Odahviing huffed and retreated.
"The war against Stormcloak is over," I told him, the words hollow to my ears. "And...I wanted to come home."
"Did you say a dragon?" Farengar called from within.
The grin on the Jarl's face grew wider. Behind me, there were more sounds of surprise, and a crunch of claws gripping stone, a whoosh of wings beating against the air as Odahviing departed.
Before I could find any more words, Balgruuf requested a full account of the final battle, ushering us inside. Farengar whipped around the arch, only to stop, one hand steadying him as he stared beyond us to the sky.
Irileth patted his shoulder as she passed him. "Too late, milk-drinker."
Farengar grit his teeth but said nothing, turning just as hastily and muttering to himself as we all tracked a path into the war room.
I watched from a distance, tucked under Hadvar's arm with my shield-brothers beside us. Once we were gathered, I felt his muscles tense as one-by-one, the eyes in the room turned on me, wild and expectant.
"Please, Jarl Balgruuf," Hadvar implored. "Celeste has..." he glanced to me, eyes asking how much I wanted said.
"Wait, we didn't win?" a guard whispered.
Leaning my head against Hadvar, I found some words. "We won," I croaked. I cleared my scratchy throat, and my voice came a little easier. "But my sister was murdered by Ulfric yesterday. She was protecting me. I have just now..." I closed my eyes; my heartbeat hammered, loud and urgent in my ears. "Hadvar I can't," I whispered.
"Celeste?" the Jarl murmured.
"It's okay," Hadvar shushed, turning me into him. The dark warmth of his chest felt safe, hidden, and I could breathe again.
"Farkas can you take it from here?" he asked.
"Me?"
"Of course."
"Uh…yeah, I s'pose."
"Excellent," Jarl Balgruuf agreed. The warm confidence to his tone made me want to hug him. "You are, of course, excused, Legate. I can summon a priestess of Kynareth, or some food?"
"Thank you, but I believe all she needs at this moment is Lydia."
"On it," Vilkas rumbled.
His footfalls receded, and Hadvar started moving me away in the opposite direction.
Squeezing my eyes tighter, suppressing a storm of tears, my heart swelled with love for him and my shield brothers, and the Jarl for understanding so swiftly.
And Lydia. Yes. I wanted Lydia.
"Thank you," I whispered against Hadvar's chest. He squeezed me a little closer.
Either he paid attention last time, or the route was more obvious than I thought. Hadvar brought us to the lavish rooms kept for me in Dragonsreach, leaving the door unlatched and seating me on a lounge by the dress mannequin.
He crouched before me. "Can I run you a bath? Get you a cup of tea?"
I reached for his hands. "You don't need to do that."
"I want to help."
"You are helping," I tugged at him. "Sit with me?"
His smile was crooked, and he sat, curling his arm around my shoulders. I nestled into his warm strength and tried to focus on nothing but my breaths.
It was so strange to be still and silent after the terrifying, tumultuous, overwhelming past few days. Months.
It's not over. To your duty now, Dragonborn, before more die in your name.
With a regretful nod to my inner prompt, I leaned back, a palm on Hadvar's chest as I looked up into his eyes. "I need to leave, to face Alduin."
He frowned; the sadness in his eyes tugged at me. "Straight away?" his voice was scratchy.
I shrugged, glancing to the plush rug underfoot. "Soon. I'll set out tomorrow. Odahviing is going to take me."
Hadvar cleared his throat. "You know where to find Alduin?"
I peered at him, my brows crossed in confusion for a beat, until I realised.
Oh.
I hadn't told him yet.
"Sovngarde," I whispered.
His face paled and I bit my lip at the expression of horror, the sudden tears in his eyes.
"Not - not like that!" I confirmed hastily. "Alduin goes in and out of Sovngarde all the time and-"
"Celeste, Alduin is practically immortal," Hadvar pleaded. "For everyone else in this world, there is only one way into Sovngarde. And that's a one-way journey."
"But - I'm the Dragonborn," I tried, heart jumping with sudden fear.
"What about the Elder Scroll?" Hadvar offered, grasping my hands. "We'll leave in the morning - I'll help you find it. We'll use it to trap him here, to keep Alduin from travelling to Sovngarde, just like you planned-"
"I don't know where the Elder Scroll is," I implored. "And - I need to face him with my sister, and my sister is in Sovngarde now - so it's my duty to go there too."
"It's not your duty to die!" he choked out.
"I don't think I will," I leaned forward, rest my forehead on his shoulder. "Odahviing can bring me back."
"You can't be certain," he shifted his hands, gripped at my waist.
"No," I agreed, subdued. "No I can't. I'm sorry."
He tightened his hold and drew me closer. "Can I at least come with you?" he begged, voice quiet and thick with emotion.
I tensed at the thought, and my tears spilled over, tracking wet trails down my cheeks. "Please - no," I wept. "You mustn't."
This seemed to break him. Hadvar sobbed; a tense, gasping sound of despair. His forehead pressed to my shoulder as his whole body shook. "I cannot stand by as you -"
Another sob choked out of him and I tucked my face into his neck, biting my lip hard in a futile attempt to keep my own cries at bay. We clung to one another, grieving for all that had been lost, and all we might never see.
And after our tears bled us dry, I pulled back, bone-weary and wan. I stared into his beautiful grey eyes, puffy and reddened from crying, and lifted a hand to his cheek.
"I will find my way back to you," I vowed, my throat raw from crying.
He closed his eyes, bringing his hand up to cover mine. "What if there is no way?" he shuddered.
I closed my eyes too, tried to imagine that possibility, but it felt so wrong - so unfair.
But then, what about Giselle's part had been right or fair?
I opened my eyes, tense and desperate for hope. I had never seen Hadvar like this; all through our journey he had brought brightness, or a proactive plan. I yearned for his positivity as I wondered if I, in my recklessness, had stolen that from his life, as well.
I had relied on and taken so much from this wonderful man, and I could not leave him like this.
But I had to.
"I will find my way back to you."
—
Hadvar and I must have fallen asleep, tangled together on the couch, because the next thing I knew I was blinking awake to a darker room and the sound of urgent whispers. I sat up, arching my back and gazing down to Hadvar, curled and still asleep. The window behind us showed nothing but blackness outside.
Bleary-eyed, I turned to the whispers, though I made out none of their words.
Lydia stood at the door, holding it open but barring the way, and - I blinked again, rubbing my eyes - Farengar? Farengar was in the hallway.
He must have noticed movement, for his hood craned over Lydia's shoulder. "See? She is awake."
"But he is not," Lydia said, a little louder through clenched teeth. "Let them rest. This is not an appropriate time, mage. Good day."
"My enquiries are both sanctioned by and for the good of the Jarl, and-"
Lydia shut the door in his face, flicking the lock up with perhaps more force than necessary.
"Insidious man," she hissed, then turned with a huff, and placed her hands on her hips.
Gripping the edge of the lounge for support, I stared at her, heart clamouring. Was I dreaming?
She closed her eyes and the frustration leeched out of her; after a deep breath, she opened them and looked to me, the mossy green full of sympathy. Motioning toward Hadvar, she indicated I should follow her.
I glanced to Hadvar again, watched the steady rise and fall of his chest for a beat. He was still wearing his armour. He would be uncomfortable, when he woke. Vaguely, I recalled Farkas' admonishment; he hadn't been sleeping much during the lead up to Windhelm.
Windhelm.
"Lydia," I choked, rose unsteadily, took a step toward her. "Ulfric killed her."
"I know, little one I know," Lydia turned back, hurried over. "Vilkas told me everything," she hushed, closing her arms around me. "It's not fair," she directed me to the chamber set up to be a bathroom since I'd last stayed. Lydia must have organised it; it was connected to their bedroom and mine by sliding screens. It was full of steam, and had my mind not been a million miles away I might have enjoyed the thick warmth and delicate fixtures.
I felt too hollow to cry any more and pressed against her instead, squeezing my eyes shut, clenching my teeth and balling my fists. "Why did she have to go with Delphine?"
"Because she loved you," Lydia slid the screen closed behind us with a foot, and stroked the back of my head in a calm, soothing motion. "And she thought she was helping."
"But it was a trap!" I implored, pulling out of her arms to face her. "It was so obviously a trap and she ran into it and he -"
"People make mistakes," Lydia cut in quietly with an apologetic shrug.
"I should have stopped her."
"How?" she fixed me with a knowing look. "You can't control what others do. And she paralysed you."
"I could have figured out a Shout to un-paralyse me," I bit.
"Celeste," Lydia sighed, hand rising to untie my disarrayed braid. "If you blame yourself for her death, Ulfric wins. Be mad at him, not yourself."
"I am mad a him," I grumbled.
"And your actions against him have ended the war and ensured he will answer for his crimes," she fixed me briefly, her expression harder, then her eyes went back to my armour. "Let's get you into the bath."
"I don't want a bath."
"You need one."
I scowled, shook my head more firmly, and took a half-step back from her.
"I have work to do."
"It can wait. Come on," she stepped forward, lifting a hand to the leather ties at the side of my Legion cuirass. "The water is lovely and warm."
"This has waited long enough," I hissed, exasperated, fending her off. "I need Odahviing to take me to Sovngarde to face Alduin. Did Vilkas tell you that? A bath won't prepare me for the afterlife."
Lydia let out a shaky sigh, face tilting to look at the stone tiles underfoot.
"He did not tell me that," her voice quavered.
A guilty thud to my chest reminded me he couldn't have; he didn't know either. And - why was I yelling at my friend? The wrongness descended over me like a cold mist, and I swallowed back a fresh lump in my throat.
"Well. I am," I murmured. "Sorry."
"I feel as though this is something Vilkas would have told me," her eyes remained lowered.
"Yeah. He doesn't know."
"Were you planning on telling him before you leave?"
"Yes," I promised. Pain speared me; I would have to have this conversation yet again, with him and Farkas.
"And Hadvar?"
"He knows."
Her gaze shot up, piercing. "And he's okay with it?!"
"No!" I spluttered. "No, he hates it!"
"Okay, look," Lydia held her palm out. "I don't want to fight you but - I don't understand at all. Get in the bath for me, then explain what's going on. Maybe I can help figure this out."
Defeat pressed on my shoulders; there was nothing to figure out. But I didn't want to fight with her, either, and she deserved an explanation. I nodded, and stripped out of my armour.
Lydia leant against the sink, arms crossed with her gaze fixed on the ceiling - no, somewhere beyond it.
I climbed into the bath and hissed as the warm water stung all the tiny cuts and grazes I'd not realised were there.
The sound drew Lydia's attention, and she knelt by the tub, motioning with her hand.
"Can I take care of your hair?"
I eyed her warily, sinking into the water so my chin lapped against it. "You're not my servant."
"That's not what this is," Lydia scoffed. "I need to keep my hands busy while you talk."
"Oh."
I turned my back to her, and she started working on the tangles.
"Now…talk."
I closed my eyes and leaned against the edge, stepping through all I'd not yet told her; everything since we'd been separated in Solitude - about my sister finding Esbern, so long ago, and what Esbern had convinced her to become. I told Lydia about Giselle's baby, sired by Stormcloak and wanted by both of them, for different reasons. About how she'd hidden the life growing inside her with alteration magic, and how the pregnancy had been terminated by the Thalmor after the Embassy party, and her ability to have another, stripped away. I moved on to Vilkas and my journey to find my sister, and the child courier sent by Ulfric to deliver the news of her death, and then the strangeness that had driven me, the odd sense of understanding, simultaneously overwhelming and disassociating me from the battle of Windhelm.
When I reached the need to face Alduin with my sister by my side, Lydia's fingers, working soap into my scalp, stilled.
"Who told you that?" she asked quietly.
"Hmm?"
"About Giselle. That…she would help you overcome him? You've eluded to it a few times, but I don't understand where this knowledge came from."
I thought back over the thread, closing my eyes as Lydia's hands resumed working. "I don't…nobody told me. It's a feeling."
She sighed through her nose.
"A feeling."
"A really strong feeling. An instinct."
"Celeste."
"What?" I defended, turning to face her. Bubbles trickled down my temple, in the corner of my vision. "Should I be ignoring it, ignoring the part where Septims have the gift of foresight?"
Lydia pursed her lips and collected a small wooden bucket on a stubby metal handle, motioning for me to turn back around as she filled it with water.
"I don't care who your ancestors were," she gently poured clean water, washing out the soap suds. "Do you, Celeste Passero, have a history of premonition?"
"No," I conceded, closing my eyes as she repeated the soothing motion. "I don't know, maybe," I added quietly, thinking back. "Sometimes I feel as though something bad will happen if I don't act, but it's stronger than a feeling. It's difficult to explain."
"Try for me. I'm not judging you."
I nodded, taking a steeling breath. "Well. Dragonborns are said to have the soul of a dragon, right?"
"So they say."
"And - maybe what I am - maybe it's like what Vilkas and Farkas have, with their wolves."
"Your soul feels separate from you?"
"Sometimes," I whispered.
Lydia was silent, but it was a thoughtful silence. She wrung my hair out, arranging the fall outside of the tub.
"I think we all feel that way sometimes, little one."
"You do?"
"Yes," she said softly. Hands ever-busy, she worked a towel against my hair. "I'm not saying we all have some mystical, baffling connection to dragonkind," she scoffed.
"Maybe we do," I huffed. "Maybe everybody is a little bit Dragonborn, and for some reason, I was the only one awakened."
"Not what I was coming to," Lydia arched. The towel was removed, and there was the dim pop of a cork, and then her hands were in my hair again, massaging with oil-slicked fingers. A sour, slightly citrusy smell wafted to me.
"Then what did you mean?" I closed my eyes, pressed my neck against the tub's edge. Despite the heartache that had come before, and all the unknowns ahead, this moment was soothing.
Lydia's nails scratched against my scalp, then trailed down, distributing the oil along the length. "I mean," she considered, tentative. "Only that it sounds very human to hope you were never destined to face an immortal on your own. And to want to protect your sister."
I had to consider I was inventing her involvement, and nodded dimly. "You don't think Giselle is meant to face him with me?"
"I'm operating on instinct too, you know," Lydia admitted wryly. "And - since we have known each other, I've seen you overcome every challenge placed before you and achieve the impossible, all on your own."
"But I didn't do any of it on my own," I frowned.
"What I mean is, I don't think you need anybody to prevail against Alduin," she amended gently. "And whether your human or dragon or Septim instincts, or your grief, or even your impatience insists you take the fight to him, anybody who loves you will never be okay with letting you travel to Sovngarde."
"But you will?" I swallowed. "Let me go?"
Her hands left my hair. "I trust you, Celeste," she mused. "Not your ancestors, or the dragons swimming around in your mind. You, the person you are today. So if you feel in your heart you must go to Sovngarde to face your destiny, it is not my place to stop you."
"Thank you," I exhaled, my breath rippling the surface of the water.
"I still don't like it."
"I'm not asking you to like it."
"Good, because I never will."
She offered a bar of soap, hand appearing over my shoulder, and I glanced back to her. "But still. Thank you for everything."
Lydia's eyes were all too sad, but her smile was still there.
"This isn't good bye," she insisted.
Once I was clean and dressed in a long, silky robe, Lydia left to retrieve Farkas and Vilkas, promising to do her best to soften the news to them. I refilled the tub, then padded barefoot across the sitting room to wake Hadvar and encourage him to clean the war off his skin.
I helped peel my bleary-eyed love out of his armour and guided him to the bath with soft words. He settled in the water and I made to step away, but he reached out and took my wrist. Our eyes met, and he gave me a small, tentative smile I couldn't help but return.
By unspoken agreement, I stayed, sat on the edge of the tub, toying with his thick hair while he cleaned the grime of battle away, then washed it as Lydia had done for me while he soaked. I could feel the tension in his neck, his shoulders, and once his hair was clean, I dug my knuckles into his muscles to work at the knots. His head tilted forward, to give me better access, and he leant into my touch.
"Thank you," he sighed. "That feels incredible."
"You're welcome," I hushed, grateful to be able to give him any small comfort. Had we been normal people, with normal lives, this might have been routine for us, and it was impossible to think these might be our final hours together.
Resolutely, I swallowed back the grief. I would not turn this moment of peace into one of regret.
I smoothed down his neck, across his firm shoulders, kneading in small, fluid circles. As the tightness eased, I leaned forward, hands gliding around him, brushing my ring he wore around his neck aside, to settle my palms on his chest. My head rest against the back of his, and I breathed him in and pressed a kiss to the arch of his neck.
He let out another deep breath, and his hands found mine, our fingers curling together. "You can create Shouts to do anything now, right?" he murmured.
"Sometimes," I brushed his hair aside with my nose, to kiss a patch of skin below his ear, and lingered, savouring his warmth.
He made a contented sound that vibrated through our woven hands.
"Can you make a Shout to freeze time?" he asked.
"Maybe," I kissed down his neck, my lips feather-light. "It's not a defined art. What if I mess up? Freeze you and I, and time continues without us?"
"Is it selfish of me to say that would be fine, too?" he turned his head a little, the corner of his mouth tilting up.
"Just a little," I teased, nipping at his shoulder.
"Ow!" he laughed, a quiet scoff, detangling one of his hands to reach back to me, half-turning in the process.
I was glad I could see his eyes properly, so full of love, for the sight fortified me more than any amount of talking had.
He's going to be okay.
I smiled, biting my bottom lip to keep from laughing as the glee of relief overcame me.
Hadvar narrowed his eyes a little, but his smile persisted. "I caution you to be more careful with those teeth, Lady Dragonborn," he rumbled.
"Oh," I pouted. The sudden levity was breathtaking, and I tickled my fingertips across the pink mark on his shoulder. "My apologies, Legate Reidarrson. Did I hurt you?"
Hadvar leant forward, his nose brushing against mine gently and a huffed breath warmed my mouth with heady air. "You're a very dangerous woman, you know that?"
"Hmm," I almost gave in to the urge to just kiss him already. "I don't know why you put up with me."
I felt his smile on my lips. "I didn't say it was a bad thing."
To my dismay he leaned back, but suddenly I was being lifted and pulled into the bath with him, robe and all. I squeaked with indignant shock, and water sloshed over the side of the tub.
Hadvar laughed and brushed my dripping hair out of my eyes, his expression so fond that my heart stuttered in my chest. Before I caught my breath he kissed me, soft and affectionate, then withdrew and smiled.
Leaning up on my knees beside him, I smiled as well, my hands smoothing along his chest to settle over his collarbone.
I kissed him, pulling back for a breath, and he followed me, the third kiss firmer, more certain. We continued this way, one withdrawing, the other leaning forward, neither ready for it to end.
Gradually the lightheartedness shifted into something more intense, and kissing abruptly wasn't enough. My water-soaked robe was a distant nothing but became a fortuitous choice when I climbed into his lap and felt him, hot and hard against me.
He leant back abruptly. "Sorry," he gasped, eyes closed, cheeks blushed pink as he angled his hips away. "I'm not asking for -"
"Please," I whispered, reaching down to wrap my fingers around him, tasting his stuttered moan on my tongue as he pushed his hips up into my hand, slow but certain. "I don't want to think about it," I murmured on his lips in a rush. "I don't want to think about any of it, I just want to feel good, I want to make you feel good."
Hadvar half-opened his eyes, the grey glazed with longing. He lifted a hand to hold my face gently, his fingers brushing through my hair. "Likewise," he whispered, eyes closing, forehead to mine.
I tilted up to kiss him again and Hadvar slowly worked the sodden cloth off my shoulders, the robe pooling at my elbows like furled-up wings, but the material clung to me. It wasn't long before he gave up entirely in favour of more pressing goals; his hands moved to my hips, gripping gently to steady me as I settled onto him. The strength in his hands, the press of his body, the heat of his mouth on my throat was too much. When he pushed his hips up, as slow and certain as before, I was left clinging, nails dug into his shoulders as I gasped in a breath of hot steam. Maybe it was the warm air of the bathing chamber making my head spin, or the relief that came with ignoring the accumulated stress and grief and strangeness of the past few days for a little while. Or maybe it was all him.
It was neither the time nor place for us to let go like this, we both knew it. Lydia would return at any moment with my shield-brothers, and I would have to prepare for the inevitable journey, and say goodbye. But knowing made me more determined to run now with Hadvar from the threads of our tenuous future, and simply be with him before the world dragged us apart.
I didn't know if it was possible to Shout life to a standstill, but for now, we pretended time would be kind, and wait for us.
—
Lydia didn't bring my shield-brothers back as quickly as I thought she would, so Hadvar and I managed to sleep, clean and comfortable for the first time in - ages - in an actual bed.
I heard the others arrive close to dawn, their voices dim rumbles in the sitting room. Rising quietly, I chucked on a long white shift and cast a final, fond look over Hadvar's sleeping form.
Let him rest.
I closed the door gently so as not to wake him, and faced my shield-siblings with a small, cautious smile. Somehow, I found myself more resolved about the path before me, despite the weight of uncertainty on the twin's faces.
"I've ordered breakfast," Lydia spoke first; she rose from her seat when she saw me. "It should arrive soon."
"Thank you," I padded to her side. "Did you tell them-?"
"She did," Vilkas cut in, his voice sharp as steel.
I squared him, a sigh leaving me as I took in first his, then Farkas' expressions, betrayed as fear by the concern in their eyes. Both sat in their wolf armour, tense and watchful, dwarfing the furniture. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen Farkas wear his Companions armour, or look quite so lost.
"Honestly, I expected you sooner," I told them pointedly, delaying the words I had to speak.
They already know. What's left to say?
"You needed sleep," Lydia put a hand on my shoulder. "And - we were looking into something."
I turned to her, confused, but it was Vilkas who answered.
"Read this."
I turned back, feeling a bit dizzy, and stared at a book before him, placed on his setting.
It was Kodlak's journal.
"I've read it."
"Not all of it," he grumbled, his regret plain as he sat forward to open it. "Not this bit."
"Don't tell me what I've read," I huffed, but moved to Vilkas' side, leaning against the table to peer at the pages.
He pointed to a section, reading aloud.
"I have received many visions over the course of my life, and my instincts tell me which of these I might trust. Strongest in recent days is the knowledge I will stand by our blue-eyed harbinger as family, in this life and the next. She will defeat my demon, thus giving me the honour to assist with hers."
He stopped there, index finger on the word hers, wrist slumping against the page.
I paled. I had read it - of course I had - but without the knowledge of where being Dragonborn would lead me.
"You know what this means?" Vilkas asked quietly.
"Kodlak's waiting in Sovngarde for me too," I whispered, eyes suddenly full of tears. "I'm going to see him again," I gasped, blinking swiftly, "and he's going to help with Alduin."
Lydia was then behind me, holding me up as she hugged an arm around my shoulders. "You're going to see all of them again," she supplied, letting out a weary sigh. "Everybody we've lost to the war, to the dragons. It's not just you and your sister against Alduin."
I glanced to her, stared at her through a haze. "This - Kodlak's visions are proof enough this is the path-"
"Your instincts are enough, little one," she gave me a wry smile. "Kodlak's words merely…support your feelings."
"I know what Kodlak saw, but it doesn't make it right," Farkas grumbled.
His voice, so low and gravelly, drew my gaze.
Farkas' eyes were on the journal, dejected. "You shouldn't have to die."
"I don't think I'm going to," I murmured, trying to wrap my head around that certainty. "If my soul is more dragon than human, I don't think…" I paused as a flash of fear speared me.
What if I had this feeling all wrong? What if there was no coming back?
Then you'll remain in Sovngarde. You'll spend your afterlife stopping Alduin from coming back to Mundus to bend the dragons to his will, and destroy those you love before their time.
Yes, I nodded, again more resolved. I didn't want to leave them, but I could if it was the only way to ensure my loved one's safety, and freedom for the dragons. In the corner of my vision, Vilkas narrowed his eyes. Of course he could sense my heart, always knowing me before I could catch up and know myself.
"I want to do what's right," I paused to look between them. "I want to do my duty and stop Alduin, and then I want to come home. I will find the path back. As for how - all I can do is hope I'm right in this feeling."
"Bards and their infallible hope," Vilkas shuffled on his chair. "What if it's not enough this time?"
"It's all I have to offer you," I held my hands out, suddenly weary. "It'll have to do for now."
"It's enough."
I turned toward the bedroom and saw Hadvar standing in the doorway, one hand on the frame for support. He looked as though he'd just woken; blinking, hair mussed, tunic askew, and a small smile emerged when our eyes met.
"Hope. It's enough," he repeated.
A/n: who's still with me? I know, these chapters are taking an age to deliver, but this one in particular - it kept hitting me harder than I needed amidst the stress of the pandemic, really difficult to write, particularly about Giselle.