Chapter 4

Blades Shattered

Sky Reach Temple. Salazar never thought he'd be here again. After all, he'd sworn that he wouldn't come back, even if, to quote his exact words, "Both Miraak and Alduin returned right on top of the mountain." That may have been a bit extreme in hindsight. That had been three years ago. He wouldn't have even known if Delphine and Esbern were still here if he hadn't sent his Silencer to scout ahead a few days ago. Now it was certain. No turning back now, Salazar. This is the first step. He ascended the steps into the hall where Alduin's Wall stood, foretelling the events that made up that fateful year Salazar shook the very bones of Nirn. Now, he would have to do it again.

Delphine and Esbern weren't inside. They were probably outside enjoying what little nice weather they got up here. He took the time he now had to gaze upon Alduin's Wall again. It was a striking piece of artwork, made by craftsmen that had come from that mysterious continent of Akavir. He wondered what those craftsmen would think if they found out their legacy would be reduced to being glorified bodyguards for the Emperor of Tamriel. Even after they were bodyguards, they sank to the point of being a bitter woman putting on airs and pretending to be a dragon slayer and an old man who had spent years hiding in the sewer like a rat. He would be honoring the memory of those ancient dragon slayers by doing what he had to today. At least, that was what he was telling himself.

He walked outside, exchanging the coldness of the temple for the gentle warmth of sunlight on the mountain top. Delphine was standing on the edge of the cliff thinking, while Esbern was notating some thick volume of history in a chair nearby. Salazar steeled himself and walked up to Delphine, standing on the precipice with her. The view was breathtaking. The mountains of the Reach lay before them, a river winding around the bends and niches that were naturally created by the mountains. He could hear the soft running of the water and smell the cool mountain air. Skyrim at her most beautiful. "Dragonborn," She said coolly, "I hope you've come to tell me you've killed that damn lizard."

Salazar felt the feathers on the back of his head bristle. "Paarthurnax is a friend and an asset, Delphine. You know I can't do that."

Delphine scoffed, "Strong enough to kill the World-Eater himself, but not strong enough to kill his lieutenant."

"Former lieutenant, Delphine. Very important distinction. One you can't seem to wrap your tiny brain around," Salazar said.

Delphine turned to him and pointed a finger, "Then why in Oblivion are you here?! If you just wanted to argue about it, you could have just sent a letter. At least then I would have had the satisfaction of burning it!"

Esbern was no longer reading his book. He sighed, closing it and setting his ink jar and feather pen aside on the ground, "Dragonborn," He said, "I've told you his crimes. How can you think that killing so many people is forgivable, regardless of what he did afterwards?"

Salazar felt his heart beating faster, anger boiling to the surface. Even after all this time, this same old ground had to be retread. Paarthurnax had become one of Salazar's closest friends after he killed Alduin. He'd gone up to the Throat of the World many times just to drink tea and converse with the ancient dragon. The fact that Delphine still wanted to kill him made Salazar's blood boil. He slowed his breathing, trying to let the magnanimous leader Salazar take the wheel, "Paarthurnax was instrumental in the defeat of Alduin during the Dragon War. He has dedicated his immortal life to teaching mortals the Thu'um. He helped me kill his former master! By all of the aedra and daedra, please reconsider this!"

Delphine's face was stony, as it always was when he made this argument, "I'm still shocked you became friends with that... creature," She spat out the word creature like a bug she had accidentally put in her mouth. Salazar looked at Esbern, but he just shook his head. He felt like he had four years ago, a newly minted Dragonborn who had been shocked and betrayed that people who he thought were is allies wanted to kill one of the only beings who truly understood him. The Blades smugly thought they did. They presumed he was a weapon to be pointed at their foes. A blunt instrument. A leashed hound.

Salazar's hands balled into fists. This had gone exactly as he thought it would. Damn it. Exactly. Sometimes he hated being right. He raised a fist to the air. Delphine drew her sword, "Don't try it, Dragonborn."

Salazar let himself grin savagely. "You don't even know what I'm trying. Goodbye, Delphine. May Sithis welcome you into his Void." He let down his arm.

A crossbow bolt sprouted from Delphine's neck and she grasped at it, gurgling and sputtering before finally dropping and bleeding on the ground. Esbern caught two in the chest and now lay face down in a pool of his own blood. Delphine spasmed for a few long moments, vainly gasping for air from a ruptured windpipe. Salazar watched her die, watched the light leave her eyes. Another two lives he sent to the Void. Despite his earlier eagerness, he now felt... numb. He was feeling that way more and more often. He tried to feel something as he killed, even if it was disgust at himself and the monster he'd become. Now, he felt nothing. Perhaps that was the true Void. Not the mythical afterlife of black nothingness, but a darkness in an assassin's mind in which they hid their emotions.

More than anything, he was tired. He'd rode Shadowmare hard through the night in order to get here. He wasn't going to kid himself and say it wasn't far deeper than that. Truth was, he had just grown so tired of all of this. The politicking and murder involved with this coup. The lack of sleep. The pains of old wounds that flared up when he moved the wrong way. He was only twenty-three years old. Why did he feel so jaded already? Experience, Salazar, He thought to himself, It is experience that makes people so weary. You've just experienced more in your life than others do in ten lifetimes. He supposed that was true.

His assassins came out from their perches in the rocks and stood by him. Gjalmar, a slight Nord man with a penchant for violence, poked at Delphine with his crossbow, "Pretty sure she is dead, Listener."

"I know Gjalmar." He was an excellent killer, but not all that bright. Daro'shilai, a Khajiit with an eye like a hawk, and Jarrit, a Breton sorcerer of some skill, had come over as well.

"That was... all you wanted us for?" Jarrit asked, his voice breathy and quiet.

"Yes," Salazar replied, still staring at Delphine's corpse.

There was an awkward silence that seemed to last for ages. Salazar then took three pouches of coins from his belt and tossed them to each assassin individually. After that, he finally tore his eyes away from Delphine and Esbern and went back the way he came without another word.

The next day, he rode to High Hrothgar. The old castle rose up like a mountain in and of itself. He tied up Shadowmare outside and walked inside, the musty scent of long accumulated dust hitting him. Master Arngeir greeted him as usual, with the kind, quiet words, "Ah, Dovahkiin. What brings you to High Hrothgar today?"

"I'm just passing through again, Master," Salazar said, giving him a bow. The Greybeards were among the very few people that Salazar had ever truly respected. They may be obstinate at times, but they were principled. He knew of no other men with such power who knew how to restrain themselves so well.

"I see," Arngeir said, "Lok, Thu'um, Dovahkiin,"

"Lok, Thu'um, Arngeir." Salazar replyed, shouldering his pack.

He walked out to the courtyard to begin the trek up to the summit. As usual, it was cold, windy, and miserable. "Yol," He whispered, a small flame coming out of his mouth so he could warm his hands. He'd figured out that trick shortly after he'd learned the word Yol. Black Marsh was always hot and muggy, so coming up to Skyrim had taught him what real cold was. Matter of fact, he only witnessed his first snow during his stay in Bruma. He shivered and pushed those days out of his head. Sure, those days pushed him to the only home he'd ever known in Skyrim, but he still didn't like thinking about them. Every time he thought of the angry, confused wretch he was at that time, he found himself slipping back into that same self-loathing yet again. He pulled his cloak around himself and continued trudging on the path.

Three life-threatening slips and two nearly frostbitten toes later, Salazar crested a final incline to find Paarthurnax perched on top of the Word Wall. He turned his head, his interlocking scales shifting and addressed Salazar. "Dovahkiin. It is good to see you again," He said, his voice like rumbling thunder, "Here for more tea?"

Salazar smiled. Paarthurnax could not literally drink tea, the dragon was too large for that. By "tea," he meant that Salazar would brew tea for himself, sit, and talk to Paarthurnax about life, philosophy, politics, and other topics. "Yes, old friend. I'm afraid this is the last time we may see each other for a long time yet."

"I've been alive for millennia, mal fahdon, I believe I can wait a few more years." Paarthurnax said.

"Of course," Salazar replied, setting out his tea set and building a little fire to warm the tea pot, "But I'm worried that I may not return at all."

Dragon emotions were always difficult to read, but the silence that followed told Salazar that Paarthurnax was troubled, "I see," He finally said, "So you're going through with this plan of yours?"

"Yes."

"Even after what I told you?"

"Yes."

A pause.

"This will destroy you, Salazar-jiin. If not physically, then spiritually. The Thu'um was not meant to be used this way."

"I know."

Salazar poured his tea and held the cup for its warmth, taking a sip.

"I believe you killed a man for the very crime you wish to commit."

"Ulfric destabilized Skyrim and the Empire. If he got his way, Cyrodiil and High Rock would be Aldmeri territory and Skyrim would be besieged by enemy armies on all sides."

"You always speak in such large scale."

"I'm a large scale thinker."

"I do not think so, Dovahkiin. I believe you think on a very small scale. From what you've told me about your life, you simply want control over your own life."

"You presume to know me better than I know myself."

"I believe I do, Salazar," Paarthurnax left his perch, moving closer to Salazar, and lowered his head so it was only a few feet from Salazar's.

"Child. You aren't alone anymore. You don't have to fight for your life everyday. You are loved, Salazar-jiin."

He felt so small next to the enormous form. Child. That word should've made him angry, but he knew deep inside it was true. There was a small pain in the back of his throat, the result of years of repressing emotion. Years of hiding the person he truly was. Outside, he was a killer. A cold menace that put fear in the hearts of his enemies. Inside, he was a scared hatchling, constantly quivering at the raised hand of a master. Gods above, he thought, I hate it when he's right.