The League of Dragonborn
Chapter 4: Worlds Collide
After a long hiatus, we're baaaaaaaack!
"I want Alduin, and you're all going to get him for me."
"Alduin?" Brynjolf asked, his eyebrows furrowing at the daedric prince, who seemed to bask in the shock that was afforded her. "You want..."
Freja scoffed outright, throwing her arms in the air. "The World Eater. The Nordic God of Destruction. The most powerful and fearsome dragon that ever existed... In exchange for our freedom from your servitude, you want... the soul of Alduin?"
The corners of Vilkas' mouth twitched. "Kodlak use to tell me the legend when I was a pup," he said, turning towards Sofja. "They say he was defeated by the ancient nords."
"True, my wolf, true," Nocturnal said seductively, spinning a lock of purple hair around her greyish finger. Sofja gritted her teeth at the way the dark deity spoke. "And, as you must know, dragons have returned to Skyrim. Along with Alduin. If I cannot have my two best thieves serving me in life or in death, then I want something greater than thieves: I want the soul of a dragon-god to serve me for all time."
"But how can we—" Sofja began.
With a flick of her wrist, a weapon suddenly appeared in the center of the room, balanced precariously on a grey stone pedestal. It was a gorgeous sword that seemed to be made from Ebony, yet the hilt was intricately woven with various metals that were punctuated by a glowing purple gem.
"For you, my Freja. Use this weapon to chase Alduin's soul from his body, and when you do... It will be mine for the taking. Have I made myself clear?" Freja nodded, took the weapon into her hand, and suddenly the room went dark.
They all—Freja, Brynjolf, Sofja, and Vilkas—stood dumbfounded on the cliffs outside of Nightingale Hall, their conversation with Nocturnal finished. No one spoke. It seemed that there was everything to be said, and yet nothing left to say.
Vilkas stood gripping the hilt of his sword as he glared out over the vast, sunlit forest, disconcerted at the thought of consorting a daedric prince in such a manner. Did it all have to be so difficult at every juncture? Nay, at every moment? Sofja stood near to him, her eyes watching him warily, almost able to read the frustration dancing through his thoughts. She wondered, with everything that had happened, how much longer he would have to wait until the beast blood was purged from him. Though things had settled within the Companions, and even the question of her and Vilkas' relationship had been pleasantly answered, Sofja still noticed the unease in her lover's steps, and the strain behind his eyes in certain moments. The wolf was there still, wrestling inside him, roaring to escape. She sighed, turning her gaze towards Brynjolf and Freja, the woman they had come here to find. Biting her lip and squinting her eyes, she took in the sight of her.
She was quite a few inches taller than Sofja, her arms thin, and her build fragile. But peering at her eyes, one could certainly never make the mistake of calling Freja fragile. Her sharp features, piercing eyes, and intelligent expression warned of a cold, harsh person who was as quick with her tongue as with her blade. A harsh person, but not a person to be dependent upon, Freja thought, remembering back to the way she'd seen Brynjolf chug his mead at the Bee and Barb; he was a man obviously suffering from heartbreak. She'd seen it enough in Vilkas all those months ago, before they had resolved to be together, once and for all.
"There's no time to waste," Freja said suddenly, her light eyes scanning over the three others on the cliff next to her. "We must do as Nocturnal commands."
Sofja opened her mouth to speak and Brynjolf scoffed loudly, but it was Vilkas who took the opportunity to speak. "As Nocturnal commands? Are you mad? We have been dragged into this situation for one purpose and one purpose alone, and that is to transport you to the Greybeards."
Freja smirked. "I've already had some training with the Greybeards, almost a year ago now. What else do they need? So there are two Dragonborns... What does it matter?"
It was Sofja's turn to speak. Her blue-green eyes flashed at Freja, and she took a few angry steps forward. "It matters because Skyrim, and maybe the whole of Tamriel, is in danger. Do you think it's a coincidence that two Dovahkiin have mysteriously appeared, close to the same age, when the great legends barely even tell of one?"
Freja shrugged her shoulders, though her mind was buzzing with the truth of the words being thrown at her.
"It's because there is need of two of us," Sofja continued. "It's because our action is the difference between salvation, and this world being razed to the ground. Is there nothing in it you care about, nothing you wish to see saved?"
That hurt, Freja thought, as her eyes immediately fell on Bryn. He had been right earlier when he said she always ran, even if she always felt she had a reason to do so. But the stubborn little redhead with the full lips and lightly-freckled cheeks was right. It wasn't even just about Bryn... The Guild was her home, too. And perhaps even Riften.
"Fine," she murmured. "But we can't just ignore Nocturnal's deal. And besides, I have a feeling the Greybeards wouldn't shudder to know that we move to defeat Alduin, the World Eater."
Brynjolf nodded. "Aye. Perhaps our paths have converged more than we think," the tall, ginger-haired man said softly, though he directed his words at Sofja.
"So we go to the Greybeards, then," Vilkas said, exhaling with a bit of relief as he did.
"First, to Whiterun," Sofja said quickly, crossing her arms as she turned more fully towards Brynjolf and Freja. "As the Harbinger of the Companions, I'll have to return to make sure things are in order... And besides, Jarl Balgruuf will want to know what we know. His is one of the strongest armies in the hold."
"Harbinger of the Companions, hm? I hadn't expected someone who seemed so young and inexperienced to be the leader of such a group." Freja said, eyeing the woman before her with new care. The Companions might prove useful in the struggle to come.
Sofja closed the space between them until they stood only a foot or two away from one another. "And I hadn't expected the other Dragonborn to seem so spineless, and to run from responsibility so easily."
With those words, Freja almost bared her teeth with animal rage, and gripped her dagger. Brynjolf and Vilkas both jumped in, with Brynjolf swiftly offering calming words. "Enough. You and Vilkas go on ahead... Freja and I have much to discuss. There is no time to quarrel amongst ourselves, or else we lose before we begin to fight."
A curt nod, and Sofja and Vilkas were on their way. Freja and Brynjolf were alone again, standing beneath the trees that swayed with thick, green leaves. Sunlight glimmered through the branches, shooting patterns on the ground.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Brynjolf asked. Surely the fact that Freja had promised Nocturnal Brynjolf's and her own servitude to the daedric prince for a lifetime was problematic, yet he couldn't understand why she hadn't been honest. "What would a lifetime of servitude even mean?"
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, taking a deep breath. "After everything we'd been through... I was afraid. Afraid to tell you that it wasn't over. That I'd done something perhaps I couldn't take back. And I'm not sure what it would have meant, but I wasn't willing to find out. Perhaps we would've had to abandon the Guild and live only as Nightingales, acting for Nocturnal's glory. Perhaps nothing would have changed, I don't know..."
Brynjolf moved towards her gently, letting his fingers rest on the sides of her neck. "Freja," he whispered carefully. Their eyes met. He wanted to hold her, to reassure her, and to slap her all at once. In her best moments, she was one of the most caring, determined people he'd ever known. In her worst, she was a selfish, impudent young woman, too fiery for her own good. "No more lies. We will defeat Alduin, we will break ourselves from Nocturnal's bondage, and we will free Tamriel from the dragon threat."
Staring into Brynjolf's warm eyes, Freja felt relief in his reassurances. Letting her arms lace around his neck, she leaned up to kiss him. She was shocked when he turned his face away from her. She opened her mouth to speak, but he shrugged out from under her touch, taking a few steps back. "No..." He murmured shortly. "I... I can't. Not now." He cleared his throat. "We better go, before they get too far ahead. Whiterun awaits."
"Brynjolf," she said carefully, "come on, I-"
"No," he said again. "You so often choose the easy thing over the right thing. I will be here to support you, as well as to help free us both from Nocturnal, but that's all I can promise you right now."
Freja felt as if someone had stabbed her. She knew Brynjolf would be angry, but she hadn't expected him to turn away from her. She looked away from him and nodded wordlessly, wondering if his rejection would last the day, or if it would last forever.
It was nightfall when they reached Jorrvaskr. Sofja was beyond relieved; it'd been a long journey, and Jorrvaskr had been her home for many months now. She hugged Farkas tightly, and gave a knowing nod to Aela.
"I'd like you to meet Brynjolf, an important contact in the Thieves Guild and an honorable fighter, from what I've seen so far," she smiled gently as Brynjolf bent his head in greeting to the other members of the Circle. She never expected to say the words 'thief' and 'honorable' in the same sentence, and yet when it came to Brynjolf, it seemed true enough. Farkas nodded back with respect. Aela eyed the tall redheaded man, her gaze curving over every inch of him as she licked her lips. Sofja nearly died of embarrassment.
Vilkas cleared his throat. "And this is Freja, the second Dragonborn. She—" He began, when Freja cut in, her light eyes burning into Aela.
"Not second," she said softly.
Aela chuckled. She wouldn't have liked to be called second either. "Welcome to Jorrvaskr. There's beds, food and mead for anyone brave enough to take on this dragon threat."
Farkas nodded. "Good to have you here." His words were barely more audible than a grunt.
"Make yourselves comfortable," Sofja said, trying to imagine what Kodlak would've said in this particular moment. "The Circle and I must have a meeting to discuss a few things." Brynjolf and Freja nodded, and were quickly escorted down to the lower quarters to find a place to stay and something to fill their bellies.
"To the Underforge?" Aela asked quickly. In these last weeks and months since the passing of Kodlak and the elevation of Sofja to Harbinger, it seemed as though the Companions were stronger than ever, and that included Aela. Where she was once cunning and calculating, she had grown to become a truly important part of the Circle.
"It's not necessary," Sofja sighed, her tone grave. "I only wanted to make you all aware that Vilkas and I will not be staying long. We must travel to the Greybeards, and from there, our path is unclear. In the meantime, I leave you, Aela and Farkas, in charge. You will guide the Companions jointly, sharing the power of Harbinger."
Farkas stood stone-faced. If Sofja didn't know better, she would've guessed he hadn't heard at all. She was only reassured when Aela loudly scoffed. "You want me to share such a responsibility with him? He couldn't spell his own name if you gave him the letters...in order."
"That wasn't a request," Vilkas said angrily. The expression on Aela's face revealed that she wanted to say more, but that now wouldn't be the time. "Of course, Harbinger," said again, nodding at Sofja, although sometimes it seemed as if the Companions were led just as much by Vilkas as by Sofja.
The four of them, the last four of the Circle, spoke on other matters quietly, and when they were finished, Vilkas walked into the yard out back to catch some air. It was dusk, and a chill filled the air. He saw Freja sitting on the steps ahead of him leading down into the yard. He'd only met her hours earlier, but he sensed a deep melancholy in her.
"Ever been to Whiterun?" He asked quietly, sitting down next to her.
"Once or twice," Freja said with little enthusiasm.
"It's a good city," he continued, unsure of why he sat next to her in the first place. "In fact—"
"I can't do this," she said quietly.
Vilkas' eyes narrowed at her. He hardly knew what to say. The blonde, intimidating woman next to him was nothing more than a stranger.
"I have the soul of a dragon they say, but if I had a choice, I'd rip the beast out of me and be done with it. I wasn't made to be a savior. Not like your precious girl in there," Freja murmured, nodding back towards Jorrvaskr, referencing Sofja.
Vilkas sat another few seconds in silence. "Believe it or not, I know what it's like to have a beast inside of you, one that forces you to be something other than what you think you are..."
"You mean the whole wolf thing, right?" Freja said flatly. Their eyes met, and Vilkas chuckled heartily.
"You've heard?"
"It's not as big of a secret throughout Skyrim as you might think," she said, laughing back softly.
"It's true, you have been given this gift, and it means you have a responsibility..." Vilkas began. "But you aren't alone, not if you don't want to be. Just come with us to the Greybeards. See what they have to say, that's all we ask. Deal?"
She eyed the dark haired man warily. She didn't necessarily like him, but he possessed an honesty that she found refreshing. Sighing, Freja knew that after this moment, there was no turning back. No more running, no more shutting others out, no more hiding from responsibility.
"Deal."
