Epilogue II: Friends
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Lydia trained.
Her sword clacked against the wooden scaffold. Once, twice, three times, then she launched into a roll and swept it into the underside of another post, dragged it out.
The scrape was enough to set her teeth on edge, but she continued, bashing her shield into the front part before dashing to the left and repeating her attack.
She was of course, not training against a humanoid dummy. She needed to be ready to fight larger opponents. Though it would take quite a stretch of imagination to call the structure of planks and branches she was attacking a Dragon.
The pain in Lydia's arms and lungs had been nigh-unbearable for half a minute before she let herself stop, sagging backwards against the nearest wall and panting. Chilly air stung in her nose, and the light from a nearby torch illuminated her sweat-slicked skin.
For days now, the back balcony of Dragonsreach had been empty. Ever since the Dovahkiin had taken off on the back of a Dragon, it was like nobody dared approach. Like every time they checked, and there was no sign of a great lizard bringing him back, it made it more and more real that he may not come back at all.
Lydia still came every day, though. Had practically started to live there. Much more horrifying than the thought of him not coming back (she knew he'd come back) was that he would return and she wouldn't be there for him.
The rumblings had stopped an hour ago. Echoes from up on the Throat of the World that had woken up half the damn city. A letter from that young Archmage had beaten the noises by mere minutes, warning of a potential Thalmor attack at the mountain, but there was precious little Balgruuf could do about it.
Now it was nearly dawn, and whatever had happened was over.
Lydia was on edge. 'The Thalmor' her arse; her Thane had done something and now she needed to be ready. For the Dragons counterattack, or for him to be injured, or —
"That was good form."
She froze, eyes going wide. Then spun around.
The Dragonborn was standing in the middle of the hall, hands on his belt. It was hard to make out his features in the dark, but she'd recognise his voice anywhere.
"How did you—" Her head whipped back to the open balcony, then the door behind him.
"Vonuz." He said, quietly enough that pebbles skittered away from him but not much else. Saying the word made his outline blur, and she almost lost track of him despite the fact that he was standing right there. "I wanted to see you first, so, didn't want to be seen on the way in."
Lydia took a second to process that. Then started running at him.
DB looked resigned. "So I understand that I have a lot coming, but if you punched my face it would probably just hurt your hand, so don't—"
She crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his midriff.
"…Um." He said.
"You're okay." She whispered. "I knew you'd win, but, I didn't know if you'd be okay." She stepped back, looking him up and down. "Are you okay?"
"I'm exhausted." He said, visibly deflating. On closer inspection, his armour was torn to shreds in multiple places, and she could see blood and burns all over him. "Going to heaven and back…hurts, I don't know how else to say it."
"But you won?" Lydia pressed. "Did you…did you absorb Alduin's soul?"
"No. That was never my place." The Dragonborn looked down at himself. "Me and Alduin are…the same. Two parts of a greater whole. He'll be back when he's needed, but not before."
Some of her panic must have been visible, even to him, because he followed that up with "I defeated him, don't worry. You can't exactly kill the End Of Time, but Sovngarde is free, as is Mundus."
Lydia exhaled, heavily. Smiled. "You did it. I told you you would."
"You did." The Dragonborn smiled. He…actually smiled. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you."
Lydia tilted her head. "Are you sure you're okay? You're a lot more...talkative than usual."
"I'm trying to get into the habit of saying what's on my mind. We'll see how long it takes for that to get me into trouble." He shifted, almost imperceptibly. "I realised some things, while I was gone. About myself, about the world. It has occurred to me that…I was a bit of an ass, to you, before I left."
Oh. They were doing that now.
There were a lot of things Lydia had thought about saying on this topic, but what came out was "A bit?"
He winced. "A lot. I was trying to protect you, but in doing so I was disregarding your self-worth as a warrior. You wanted to fight by my side, and even if I wasn't lying about our respective power levels, I also wasn't being fair to you, or to your pride."
He looked away. "I may have stopped travelling with you to keep you safe…but I missed you, when you were gone. I'm sorry."
Lydia stared at him.
"…Well…thanks for saving me the trouble of having to explain that." She said, her voice coming out cracked for some reason. "That's—That's about the gist of it, yeah, so—"
"Are you alright?" DB asked, brows furrowing. "Your eyes are—"
"Yeah no I'm fine, I just—" She sniffed, and wiped her face. "I forgive you. I'm glad you're back. I —I'm sorry, can I hug you again? I just—"
His arms were wrapped around hers a moment later. She tensed, then sort of flopped forwards onto his chest, grabbing onto him too.
"Thank you." He said, voice low. "While I was gone, at first…it was almost impossible to focus. And then I realised that was because I was afraid I'd hurt you. Someone told me that Men don't really fight for higher purposes like truth or honour or country. They do it for the people they love. When I fought Alduin…I was doing it to save you."
Oh.
"Who told you that?" Lydia whispered.
"High King Torryg."
"Yeah, of course you met him, you absurd maniac—" Lydia had realised, at some point during this, that she was sobbing hideously into the Dragonborn's tunic.
She just clutched onto him tighter, riding out the wave of relief and joy and—whatever in Oblivion else she was feeling.
Slowly, the world around them got a touch brighter, warmer. Lydia opened her eyes to see the sun rising over the mountains to the north.
"New day." She muttered.
"You're welcome." The Dragonborn replied, smugly.
Gods, she hadn't realised how much she'd missed his jokes.
"I need to report to Balgruuf soon." He said, shifting his hands to her shoulders. "But, while I'm here, I do have something to ask you."
"Oh?" Lydia shook her head to clear it, then stepped backwards. "And what's that?"
"I left some…unfinished business back on top of Snow Throat." He gestured over his shoulder. "I'm calling Odahviing to take me up there, and I have reason to think there may be, well, a lot of angry flying lizards present. So, assuming you're willing to try riding on Dragonback…would you like to come with me?"
He wanted her back.
He was going off to do something incredibly dangerous and he'd apologised and he wanted her back.
Lydia's smile made the sunrise look like a candleflame. "I am sworn to carry your burdens."
Quaranir was screwed. Utterly, completely, overwhelmingly screwed.
Julius Meteuse had ignored his time-stop, beat him in a fight, trapped him and knocked him unconscious, and that hadn't meant he was screwed.
Xander had revealed he was now possessed by a Daedra, and that hadn't meant he was screwed.
He was screwed now.
He stood, in a hallway on Artaeum, in front of a simple wooden door.
"Good luck, wonderboy." Nerien clapped him on the shoulder and cackled, walking down the hallway.
"I hate you so much!" Quaranir shouted after him.
"No you don't!" Nerien waved, before vanishing.
Quaranir sighed. Breathed in again. Raised a fist. Winced, and reached forwards to lightly tap his knuckles on the—
And he was sat in a chair in front of a desk.
Oh. Good. He only does that when he's mad. Quaranir gulped, and looked up.
The Archmage of the Psijic Order looked back at him.
"You've been busy." Said the Archmage.
Quaranir tried not to whimper. "I…can explain?"
"Oh, no need to explain. I was watching." The Archmage waved a hand. Moving pictures appeared in the air in front of him, detailing a few choice moments in the last few months.
Quaranir yelling at Alexander. Quaranir delivering Alexander's mail. Quaranir retrieving the Eye of Magnus. Quaranir losing a fight with Julius. The only image that didn't include Quaranir...was the one where a battle for the fate of the world happened and he wasn't there.
"…Oh." Quaranir squeaked. "Good."
"I have to ask. As a man who is inspired, first and foremost, by curiosity." The images vanished, and the Archmage leaned forwards. "What exactly was running through your head, while this happened?"
"…I was just trying to finish my bridge project…" And now Quaranir was whimpering.
"…Heh. Hah!" The Archmage leaned backwards and laughed. "Oh, really? Because this was exceptional!"
"Well I was only trying to—I'm sorry whah?" Quaranir blinked.
"The moment you submitted your report on the Eye of Magnus (perfect work there, again, by the way), your professor sent it up the chain. We knew right away the fate-threads were linking to something this big." The Archmage waved a hand. "I was about to have one of the postgraduates take on your case, but no, you were insistent on keeping responsibility. I assumed it was arrogance, but then you only went and pulled through!"
"I—Well, I—" Quaranir looked around for the hidden gaggle of watching pranksters, but saw nothing. "You mean I didn't…mess it up?"
"Not at all! It was a bold move, revealing yourself, even more so letting that mage capture you. But it worked out!" The Archmage was grinning. "Using the conduit to tie up so many threads was masterful, especially when you convinced him it was his own idea. Now the world's still intact, and we're well on our way to being able to reintroduce ourselves to Tamriel. I'm not sure I could have handled it better myself."
The Archmage leaned forwards again. "Were you really thinking ahead to the Dragonbreak, ever since you first found the Eye in Saarthal?"
A few seconds went by. Then a grimace that just might have passed for a smile appeared on Quaranir's face.
"Sure!" He said, voice strained. "Why not?"
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Octavia had never been to the Midden before. She'd never actually been to the College of Winterhold. Suffice it to say that the College was cold, and the Midden was even colder.
"You're keeping him down here?" Cassia said, following Xander through the twisting hallways. Even though the walls were literally made out of ice, she hadn't mentioned the temperature once, perhaps due to the subtle fiery glow surrounding her. Octavia met her eye and raised an eyebrow. Cassia flicked a finger, and the warmth spread to cover both sisters.
"I didn't really have anywhere else to put him." Xander admitted. He didn't look bothered by the cold either, but probably had something on his robes to help. "I don't want to commute whenever I go see him, and with the new students in we couldn't just give him a random room."
"What's the security like on his cell?" Octavia asked.
"Zilch."
"Pardon?"
"Oct, what security could any of us make that Julius couldn't break through with minimal effort?" Was Xander's response, turning to give her a raised eyebrow. Cheeky git. "There's nothing keeping him here besides the fact that if he left, I'd chase him down and stop him again."
"Not like him to give up just because he lost once…" Cassia mused.
"Isn't it?" Octavia asked. "When was the last time you saw him lose?"
"He tried to escape the moment I let him out of stasis." Xander said, coming to a stop in front of a wooden door in the ice. "So I let Azura talk to him. He's not tried anything since. His odds are decent against me, but I don't think he can do anything to her."
"Right, yeah, because my brother can just…throw a Daedra at his problems now." Cassia (in spite of her last comment) shouldered past Xander, grabbing the door handle. "I'm gonna check his leg's okay. You two can do whatever you're doing when I'm done."
She opened it, slipped in, and closed it behind her.
The warmth, annoyingly, went with her, and Octavia shivered.
Xander glanced at her, then slipped his coat off his shoulders and passed it over.
"Aww, look at you being a good little brother." Octavia smirked, wrapping it around her shoulders and feeling the chill immediately dampen. "I was about to turn off my mind's temperature sensors."
"Wish I had that option the first time I went down here. I almost set fire to my own feet." Xander deadpanned. He was now woefully underdressed for the cold, but still seemed unaffected.
"If you told me you'd actually done that, I'd believe you."
"If you told me I'd done that, I'd believe you."
Small smiles, and then they both turned to stare at the door.
"…If we go in there and there's just a big hole in the floor," Octavia remarked, "it's gonna be really funny."
Xander snorted. "Cassia's just, like, strapped to the ceiling with a sweet roll stuck in her mouth to stop her screaming."
"Note left on the table says 'stole Shadowmere, going back to the mountain'."
"I'd be so mad, but not surprised." Xander sighed. Looked down. "Should we talk?"
Oh no. "We are talking." Octavia reminded him.
"We're bantering. I mean should we talk talk."
She sucked in a breath. "Well it seems like every time we talk talk, we just get angrier at each other, and then have to bury it under the increasingly flimsy barrier of 'but we're family so we'll be friends', even though we only seem to keep lying and betraying each other more."
"See this is why I thought we should talk." Xander turned to her, wincing. "Because this clearly is not working, and I don't want to never talk to you again. Nor put on a façade while talking to you for the rest of my life."
"Well maybe you shouldn't have—" Octavia stopped. Sighed herself. "And there's the resentment."
"We're both too self-aware for our own good, aren't we?" Xander smiled, sadly. "You know, I copied that from you. I thought that pointing out my own mistakes made me look clever and cool."
Octavia narrowed her eyes. "I am clever and cool."
"Yeah but not because of that." He shoved his hands in his pockets, tapping one foot. "I…I'm sorry for killing the Emperor. Or rather, for bringing L'laarzen in and having her do it. We did it because he wanted us to do it, but of course you're still upset about it because I basically ruined your life."
"And then we said we weren't going to play games lying to each other." Oct continued. "But that was a lie too, because you were hiding what you'd done and I was hiding what I was doing, and then I tried to poison your friends."
"We keep saying we want to treat each other like adults, and be treated like adults in turn." Xander summarised. "And then we keep not actually showing each other any respect."
He looked down. Back up.
"I'm the Listener of the Night Mother." He said. "The Dark Brotherhood survived your attack on their home, but I've basically disbanded them now. Other than that, I…don't think there are any other secrets I'm hiding from you."
Octavia nodded, slowly. It tracked with what he'd done to kill Elenwen.
"I'm pregnant." She said.
"You what?"
"Nah I'm messing with you." She snorted, and watched his face fall in consternation. "I have…a lot of secrets, but I can't think of any that are relevant right now. Julius had me on board with his plan because I thought it would save the Empire, make up for my failure to do any real good these past few years. Without that, I got nothing."
"So, no more secrets that concern each other?" He offered, extending a hand.
"Do birthday presents count?" Octavia tilted her head.
"Eeeeh…I'll allow those."
"Deal."
They shook.
The door opened, Cassia's face peeking through. "He's escaped through a hole in the floor, and also I've been his conspirator the whole time." She declared. "Prepare to fight."
"Great." Xander said, shouldering past her the same way she had him. "How is he?"
"Fine."
"He's f—" Xander stepped into the room, looking into one corner. "I cut off your leg with a Daedric artefact and you're fine?"
"I'm an inch shorter on one side." Came a voice from within. "You cauterised the wound, which would be nice and humane if there was a risk of me bleeding out, but as it is I'm a little miffed. We had to scrape the burnt bits off."
"You fixed my lip. You can regrow an inch of leg." Octavia followed Xander in, looking around.
The room was room temperature, because of course it was. A cave this small with stone walls would feel claustrophobic under most circumstances, but Julius had been living here for more than an hour and it showed. The surfaces were all perfectly flat and inscribed with geometric patterns, and warm-coloured magical lights hovered around the walls and ceiling. There was a table with four chairs, a bookcase, and a bed. Sat on the bed…
"I can, but it'll be a while." Julius said, smiling wryly. "Hi, Oct. Good to see you again." He looked immaculate, obviously. There wasn't a ruffle in his clothes or a line in his face. But despite that, he did look…tired. Something in the slight slump of his posture, micro-expressions in his face.
The fire was still in his eyes, but it was an aimless passion that was a far cry from his usual focused determination.
"Were you planning to?" Octavia asked, before checking herself. "Oh wait, of course, you'd need to come and get the Eye. But after that—"
"I was going to take the Paarthurnax gem and high-tail it to the Iliac Bay alone." Julius looked at his hands. "Wasn't expecting to see any of you again after that. Not before the world ended at least."
"…You sure I can't hit him?" Octavia asked, looking to Xander.
Cassia looked between the three of them, fingers clenching.
"Bad Octavia." Xander pulled a seat out from the table, sat down, stretched. "Okay. We got two things to sort out today, and we can pick the order we do them in. Thing one is writing a group letter to our parents."
Three groans.
"We do that last." Octavia declared.
"No, yeah, I haven't sent them anything in weeks." Cassia hissed. "They're gonna be so mad—"
"Thing two," Xander continued, "is we let Julius actually make his whole case on the 'ending the world thing'."
Three shocked faces all turned to stare at him.
"…Pardon?" Cassia summarised the general mood.
Xander focused on Julius. "Anyone else tried this, I'd say they're crazy. Elenwen was crazy. But you're not crazy, and you're still one of the smartest people I know."
"Not the smartest anymore?" Julius asked, with a small smile.
"I talk to Daedric Princes on a regular basis now." Xander's voice was flat. "Look, I beat you in a fight. Not a debate. I did that for me, because I had things to prove to myself; otherwise I would have had Azura snap you in two. But fights don't decide who is right—"
"Only who is left." Octavia finished the phrase. She turned to Julius. "You still think you're correct."
Julius nodded minutely.
"And he has been thinking about this for a lot longer than we have. I stopped him because he was putting me under time pressure to make a pretty monumental decision. That's gone now." Xander steepled his fingers on the table, met Julius' eyes. "So. Marshal your arguments, cite your sources. Help us understand why you decided to tear Mundus apart, we'll see if we have anything to add you didn't think of. If we can convince you, we're safe letting you out because we know you'll stop. If you can convince us, guess we're going back to Snow Throat."
His gaze sharpened. "Because that's what you do, when you actually trust people."
Octavia looked between them. Her long-time idol staring at her long-time nuisance.
If someone had told her a few months ago which one had beaten which, she would have laughed in their face.
"…Thank you, Al—Xander." Said Julius. "Where would you like me to start?"
Cassia held up a hand. "Actually, I've changed my mind. Can we write the letter to our parents first?"
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It was official. I was never going to get tired of flying.
"Kogaan, Odahviing." I muttered, unsure if it was appropriate to pet the Dragon that had just given me a ride—
'NO.' Insisted the chorus of Dov responses from the back of my mind. It wasn't like I could pick out individual voices from the soulmass, but the collection of impulses from the Dragons I'd killed made it quite clear how demeaning the act would be.
Aaalright then.
I just jumped down, my boots thumping into snow. It had only been a few hours now since I'd reappeared atop the Throat of the World, and bore witness to the absolute destruction Xander and his friends had wrought on it. Already, fresh snowfall had covered the blitzed mountaintop. Did they break the streak of the ice that hasn't melted since the Merethic era? Whoops.
Another thud, and Lydia jumped down beside me.
"That was amazing." She breathed. "Whiterun looked so tiny, and—We need to do that more often. Can we do that more often?"
"I am not yours for joyriding." Odahviing growled, and I decided to allow the smile that sparked up at his indignation. "You brought us here for a purpose, Dovahkiin. It is time you show us why."
"Right, that." Lydia stepped closer to me, leaning in and whispering "Are we…fighting, now? Because I'm a little on edge here."
She had good reason to be. Odahviing had said 'us' because there were about…thirty? Thirty Dragons on and around the mountaintop. Four perched nearby, dozens more circled through the air.
"There's no point whispering. They can hear you." I said, blithely, walking out into the centre of the plateau.
"So why are they here?" Lydia asked, hurrying after me.
"To decide what to do next. If they're going to pledge their allegiance to me." I answered. Then, tilting my head, "Or if they're going to all try and kill me at once."
Lydia made a strangled sound.
I stopped in the spot where there had once been a wound in time that I had repaired with an Elder Scroll so I could learn Dragonrend (Gods above, my life is a mess—), and looked around.
Lydia was worried, but steadfast. The Dragons (from what my stolen knowledge on their body language could tell me) were all about as nervous as Dragons could get. And…some metres to one side, shoved against the wall of the peak, was a very large Draconic skeleton.
Rage flared inside me just to see it, tempered only by the knowledge that my mentor's killer was already dead…and that I could still see a flickering golden light within the skeleton's ribcage.
"DOV!" I shouted, switching to Dovahzuul. "Alduin is defeated! His reign is ended! The only child of Akatosh you may answer to now is me!"
I still wasn't sure if 'child' was the relevant term. What had led to me gaining these abilities. Had I been born with them? Blessed? Had Akatosh known that I would come to Skyrim, encounter Alduin, survive long enough to discover the power in my blood? If anyone could, I supposed it would have to be the God of Time.
"You fear my hunger!" I declared. "And my wrath! You wonder if I mean to rule you, or to wipe you all from Mundus!" I narrowed my eyes. "Allow me to give you your answer."
I turned back to the skeleton, and started walking closer.
The surrounding Dragons snarled, snapped, hissed and rumbled. Out the corner of my eye, I saw one start diving towards me, but be warded off by another. My attention remained on my goal.
The soul's swirling accelerated as I approached, and it started distorting, stretching towards me. That was how it always was. I never made a conscious decision to absorb a Dragon Soul; they were pulled to me by some inexorable gravity, sucked in by my very nature. No wonder the Dov feared me.
I closed my eyes, and breathed in.
No. Not this time.
This was not merely a source of knowledge and power to be devoured. This was my mentor. An ally who had fought alongside me and taught me who I was. And he wasn't dead. Not really.
Dragons are friends. Not food.
"Paarthurnax." I whispered. Then, Shouting, "SLEN TIID VO!"
The mountain shook. Lydia stiffened beside me, which made sense; she'd heard the words once before. At Kynesgrove.
The soul stopped reaching towards me as the echoes of my power washed over it. Made it shine brighter, spread, grow. The skeleton glowed, golden light rippling along the bones, and then spasmed. Green-gold scales manifest from the light, overlapping and spreading, as the boney skull thrashed around, jaws snapping closed.
The rejuvenation took less than half a minute. Which was good, because I had to feed power into it throughout the entire process, and it was the most exhausting single Shout I'd ever employed.
But then it was over, and Paarthurnax's eyes opened.
"So…that was the long sleep." The Grandmaster of the Greybeards got his feet and claws underneath him, standing and looking across at me. "Or perhaps, only a short rest. Well met, Dovahkiin. I take it you succeeded?"
"Of course he did." Lydia answered for me, turning to flash me a smile. "It's him."
"Glad you had faith. I was terrified." I muttered, which was apparently funny because it made both her and Paarthurnax laugh.
I turned away, sweeping my gaze across the other assembled Dragons. All of them, even Odahviing, looked shocked at what I'd done. You were the one who told me I shared Alduin's power for destruction. Did it not occur to you that I could restore as he does?
"I swear I will not bring the Dov to extinction!" I roared, bringing a fist to my chest. And this time, I knew it was true. "You will all cease your attacks on the kingdoms of Man, Mer, and Beast! I will not demand that you follow Paarthurnax's way, but neither will I permit your arrogance in enforcing your tyranny on this world. You will be judged by me. If I call on you, you will answer. And if you defy me, I will hunt you down."
"Are you going to fill me in on what you're saying later?" Lydia asked.
"Just laying down the law." I answered, then looked back to Odahviing. "This is your second chance. Go, and tell the others what you have learned. The Age of the Dov is returned. Do Not Waste It."
Even with what I knew, Dragons were hard to read. But I was almost certain Odahviing was smiling."By your will, Dovahkiin." He bowed his head.
He was echoed by another Dragon, then another. Those that were perched began to take off, wingbeats stirring up great swirls of snow as the congregation began to separate, Dragons peeling off in all direction.
'Dovahkiin' echoed throughout the early morning sky.
It had been fifty-seven years since Arngeir had last left the Throat of the World.
He was beginning to wonder if that might have been a mistake. Perhaps it should be encouraged for the Greybeards to take a sabbatical once per year, journey to one of Skyrim's Holds? On the one hand, there were some things that couldn't be learned through quiet contemplation alone. On the other, it invited danger, especially with a war on(ish). And in their advanced age, some of the masters were no longer robust enough to manage long journeys…
As always, choices, choices. The Greybeards have changed little in millennia; is it arrogance to think that we should experiment now?
But this was not the time nor the place for such musings. With the noise around him, it was difficult to think.
Windhelm was a loud city. Or more likely, every city would seem loud to him after decades of meditation in High Hrothgar. Hundreds upon hundreds of people, all talking, shouting, running, working…Laas. This was the sound of life. Even as it grated on him, Arngeir found he had missed it.
What he hadn't missed was the bowing. From the moment he'd walked through the city gates, whispers had spread through the throngs ("Greybeard!" "A Greybeard, here!") and just about every Nord he passed went silent and bowed their head, some muttering old prayers or blessings.
It was nice to know that they were still respected, but still, it was really embarrassing. So he smiled at anyone willing to meet his eye, and kept walking, only stopping once on his way to the Palace of the Kings.
"Am I right that you are Muiri?" He asked, looking at one young woman. He didn't recognise her, of course. But if there was one benefit of hearing like his, it was that he was tremendous at eavesdropping.
"Uh—" The girl froze like a buck in torchlight. "I—Yes, that's me."
"Good to meet you, Muiri." Arngeir smiled at her as supportively as he could. "I understand that a mutual friend of ours left a package in your care. Did he get around to retrieving it?"
"Wh—Oh." Muiri's eyes, if possible, widened further. "Yes. He came and took it back. Was he—I mean, was I supposed to—"
"You kept safe something that required safekeeping." Arngeir answered. "The rest, we can handle. Thank you, for your service to the world."
Muiri sort of whimpered, and Arngeir walked past without saying another word.
The rumours about her will be wild by the end of the day. But what's the point of being a mysterious old monk without getting up to some mischief?
He reached the doors to the Palace of the Kings. The guards clearly didn't intend to stop him, but looked unsure if they were supposed to announce him or invite him in or open the way.
He answered that for them with a casual "Bex.", making the doors swing open ahead of him.
All motion inside stopped the moment he walked in. Nobles, soldiers, and staff alike all froze in place like they'd been hit by an Ice Form Shout. At the end of the hall, Ulfric Stormcloak slowly stood up from his throne.
"Master." He said, seemingly for lack of anything else.
"Lok, Thu'um, Ulfric." Arngeir said, inclining his head. Then, just for the kicks, "I like your house."
Ufric stepped down from his throne, walking closer. Some of the shock began to melt from his face, leaving room for curiosity to blossom. "Thank you. But why have you entered it? Is this to do with the sounds of violence on the mountain, and the messages I received from the peace-broker Archmage?"
"It is, but that and more." Arngeir sighed. "I would like to apologise. You were right; the army marching up the seven thousand steps was not hypothetical at all."
Ulfric's brows furrowed. "Is everyone alright?" He asked.
Arngeir smiled. "Aching in the throat, perhaps. But alive. The Grandmaster too."
"Thank the Nine…" Ulfric breathed. Then looked back up. "…I don't want to say it."
"You can. You'd be right to." Arngeir allowed.
"And you wouldn't Shout my palace down if I did?"
"Such is not the Way."
"No, but if we're both being petty—"
"I promise, Ulfric."
Ulfric smiled. "I told you so."
"You did indeed." Arngeir chuckled. He glanced from side to side, and found that the others in the room had finally decided to relax and go back to what they were doing.
"The danger is passed. For now." He continued. "The Thalmor were repelled, and what they sought, they did not gain."
"Then they did attack, and so the Dragontruce is broken." Ulfric's eyes sharpened. "Do you mean to stop me from marching north and burning the Thalmor Embassy to the ground? Or are you here to give me that permission?"
"Neither. It is not I who has any advice for you; that is where I failed before." Arngeir reached forwards, putting a hand on Ulfric's shoulder. "I refused to let you fight. I told you that the way of violence would not bring you the peace you desired. And yet, I gave you no alternative. I cautioned you not to act, but did not recommend any other way to solve your people's suffering."
"And do you have a solution now?" Ulfric asked.
Arngeir smiled. "No. But some friends of ours just might."
"Hey, Farkas." Said Aela the Huntress, of the Companions.
"Yeah?" Said Farkas, of the companions.
"Do you wanna do anything plot relevant?" Said Aela.
"Why?" Said Farkas.
"It feels like with all this talk of a werewolf running around with the ring of Hircine, and the fact that we're one of Skyrim's biggest guilds, we should be doing something plot relevant." Said Aela.
"…Nah, I'm not feeling it." Said Vilkas.
"…Yeah, you're right, me neither." Said Aela.
̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶͜͡| ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ 8˂ o ̶ ̶̶| ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶̶
Tamriel was a wide, wide continent. It had a great variety of environments, climates, landmarks, peoples. Ten major races, dozens of cultures, hundreds of subcultures.
The events on the Throat of the World two weeks ago had been, quite possibly, the greatest display of intercultural unity since the Oblivion crisis. Trying to repeat that level of concordance would be almost impossible. But if there was one thing that everyone agreed on, it was that success merited celebration.
Elisif had agreed to host the party in the Blue Palace. The College of Winterhold still had students (and was cold), the Ragged Flagon was in the sewers, Markarth had hosted Hjar's wedding some days before, and everybody was quite sick of climbing up to High Hrothgar.
Solitude was a good choice for a few reasons; it had the wealth to support a little grandeur for the sake of boosting morale, the palace was big enough to accommodate every major player from the mountain (with a few +1s), and the city was quite desperate for a celebration that didn't go horribly wrong after the disaster of Vittoria Vicci's wedding. And with the Dragontruce on, there was technically nothing stopping the Jarls from Riften and Winterhold from coming.
Oh, and its back garden was big enough to house a Dragon.
"SLEN TIID VO!"
The reaction of the assembled crowds to a mythical beast forming out of thin air was awed, but not as terrified as one might expect. It just went to show how much presence the Dragonborn commanded. He snapped some words at the Dragon in Dovahzuul, giving it the announcement he'd made to all the living Dragons atop Snow Throat, and it was able to check its initial impulse to burn everybody it saw. After a few pensive moments, it rumbled a "By your will, Dovahkiin." and beat its wings, taking to the sky and away.
The gathered party-goers were very impressed, breaking out into applause. Xander snapped the box shut on the (once empty, then filled, now empty again) Eye of the Falmer before anyone could see what it was, and walked over to the Dragonborn.
"Well, that's Vulbahlok taken care of." Xander said, trying for a smile. "His soul was a pain to track down. You got the one Julius killed, right? I was worried something might have happened to him after, you know, the other Eye blew up with him inside it."
"I did." The Dragonborn glanced meaningfully into the sky. "I was surprised you agreed to restore this one. He attacked you, and almost destroyed this city."
Xander shrugged. "Hate to say it, but if we had you eat every Dragon that was a mass-murdering prick, we would literally have no Dragons left. I'm more concerned by what they'll do moving forwards. Listen to you, I hope?"
"In time, I expect that some may act out. Dozens of Dragons still remain; at least one's impulses will overwhelm their fear of me." DB looked back at him. "Something for you to think of a clever solution for, perhaps. But Tamriel is safe for now."
Xander grinned. "Oh, I can think of some ways an army of Dragons could blow off some steam productively. Maybe improve the world's opinion of them while they're at it."
"If you'd like, I could have Vulbahlok come back down and apologise to the city?"
"Hah! Let's not salt his wounded pride any further." Xander turned to the crowds. They'd gone back to chatting amongst themselves, with most returning inside to escape the evening chill. Two, however, were noticeably hovering around. Two women with black hair; one robed, the other armoured. Both had been staring at the Dragonborn, but looked away when they saw Xander take notice. Neither looked very fond of the other.
"Are…they with you?" He asked, tilting his head towards them.
DB sighed. "Yes. The martial is Lydia, my housecarl. The other is Serana."
DON'T TRUST THAT ONE. Meridia helpfully supplied. EVIL UNDEAD MONSTER.
Xander looked closer at her, then back at the Dragonborn. "Is…she a vampire?"
"Yes."
"Has she got an Elder Scroll on her back?"
"Yes."
"And if I asked how—"
"She had it when I found her in a stasis chamber in the bottom of an ancient ruin." DB said, blithely. "After killing Alduin, I decided to travel and finish restoring the Dragons to demonstrate my willingness to work with them if they behaved. While doing so I found a group claiming to be the reformed Dawnguard, and—"
"You know what? You can tell me later." Xander shook his head. "Divines, man, it's only been a fortnight."
"Trouble finds me."
"I can relate. Let me know if you need my help. I've got a Daedric Prince and a little sister who'd have a lot of fun fighting vampires."
DB grunted. "I might take you up on that, but I doubt violence is the problem. I promised Lydia I'd let her stay by my side on my adventures, and then a week later I found Serana, and promised to take her to her old house. They've been pestering each other ever since. And now Lydia's getting mad at me for some reason. I thought I'd finally figured her out, but I have no idea what's annoying her."
"Uh huh…" Xander glanced between the two women again. Serana (who, being a vampire, had presumably heard their private conversation) looked very amused, while Lydia looked increasingly flushed and frustrated.
Jealousy. Classic case of unrequited love mixed with hero worship, which she's now forced to worry about because a new, more attractive, more powerful rival has appeared. Xander tried not to laugh. Come on, Dragonborn, how do you not notice when a woman's clearly interested in you? Glad I'm not that oblivious.
"Well, DB, I'm sure you'll figure it out." He said, reaching up so he could clap the Dragonborn on the shoulder.
"Dee—Oh, right. You can stop with that now." The Dragonborn smiled at him. "I remembered my name, in Sovngarde."
"Oh!" Xander stared for a moment, then glanced around. "Am…am I allowed to know it?"
The Dragonborn rolled his eyes, stretched out his hand. "Hello, Alexander. My name is Siegmund Thalvarth. I apologise for trying to kill you when we first met."
Xander took a few seconds, took all that in, took a breath, and then took the hand. "I was expecting it to be lame."
"Really?"
"I was desperately hoping you would have a lame name and I could mock you for it. But no, you've got a badass name to go with your incredible powers and your cool equipment and your seven feet of chiselled muscle…"
'Siegmund' looked like he was trying not to laugh. "I get enough hero worship from everyone else. I don't need it from you."
"You burned that bridge when you were born with powers I'd kill for." Xander rolled his eyes, punched Siegmund in the shoulder (it made his hand hurt). "You're forgiven for trying to kill me, most of my other friends have too."
"And we are friends?" Siegmund asked.
"Can't exactly turn them down in this day and age, can we? Of course we are." Xander smiled, then put on an expression of mock annoyance. "You Dragon-army-having ass, two-girlfriends-having-ass, visits-Sovngarde-every-other-Tirdass-ass motherf—"
"Right, Sovngarde!" Siegmund snapped his fingers. "Sorry, my memory is still patchy. I need to go tell Elisif that her dead husband and dead steward approve of her new girlfriend."
And with that, he left.
The party was in full swing.
Serana was chatting with Babette about preferred blood types. Thongvor and Lalia were in a heated discussion about whose cities were the biggest pains in the ass to run. Octavia and Cassia were animatedly discussing spellcasting with a few of the masters from the college. Korir and Nazir were in the middle of setting up a swordfighting competition (Brynjolf, Kaie, and Borgakh all looked interested), and apparently a night with 'Elenwen' was the prize for victory. The Dragonborn had pulled aside Elisif to say his piece to her, and she looked to be very close to crying. Cicero was just…being a normal jester, for a change.
And in one corner, Four Walking Disasters were sat around a table.
"Cheers!" Dulurza shouted, echoed by similar sounds all around the table as they banged mugs together.
"To kicking ass!" Hjar toasted.
"To the power of friendship!" L'laarzen added.
"Power of friendship?" Xander snorted. "Screw that. To the power of having stupid powers that are bigger than your enemy's stupid powers!"
"Ap bap bap!" L'laarzen wagged a finger. "You have to at least pretend the power of friendship was important, or all Khajiit's character development was for nothing."
"It was very important and we're all very glad you're here with us." Hjar reached over and pat L'laarzen between the ears, earning an amused laugh.
"Malacath's name, look at us all though." Dulurza waved a hand. "If you'd told me a year ago my new best friends would be a Reachwoman, a Khajiit sneak-thief, and an Imperial mage, I would have laughed."
"If you'd told me a year ago any of this was going to happen, I would have asked for as many details as I could and then wrote a book." Xander answered. "Because this has been absurd, but by the Divines would it sell in Imperial high society."
"I want royalties for use of my likeness!" Hjar pointed at him. "Twenty five percent of profits."
"Twenty five? Sod off, you can have ten and that's generous!"
"You lot care way too much about money." Dulurza rolled her eyes.
"Thank you!" L'laarzen exclaimed, gesturing proudly at her. "See? There is more to life!"
"Oh, sure." Hjar rolled her eyes. "You don't have to worry about money because you're sleeping with the next High Queen of Skyrim. Don't you get shared ownership of the palace we are currently in?"
"We're not actually sure how that'll work." Dulurza leaned back in her chair, narrowing her eyes. "We talked the other night. Elisif thinks she's beyond the point where she needs to marry some noble for political reasons (too right, we just stopped the apocalypse), but we still don't know what will officially happen between us. Plus she needs an heir, which I do understand. Xander, can you make two women have a baby?"
"What—Why would you even think I could do that? I'm a mage, not a miracle-worker." Xander threw his hands up. Then frowned. Bit his lip. "…Give me half a year, I'll see if I can think of something. Hjar, you want in?"
"I'm no bitch. If I gotta bed Thongvor I'll bed Thongvor." Hjar declared. "He's not that bad looking. Ugh, but we need to stop discussing motherhood."
"Right? This is too young to settle down." Xander crossed his arms. "Dulurza, you've got your Jarl, Hjar's running the Reach, I've got the College…L'laarzen, did you get that haircutting parlour?"
"L'laarzen will be continuing to travel, for the time being." She replied, smiling. "If all her friends are scattered across Skyrim, she will have to keep on the move to see them, no? And this way she can ply her trade to all the nobles in the country."
"Staying domestic?" Hjar quizzed.
"For now." L'laarzen tilted her head. "But, Khajiit would like to travel further abroad at some point in the future. She would like to pay her old homes a visit; both Morrowind and Elsweyr."
"We could make it a group trip?" Dulurza offered. "Borgakh's heading back to rejoin the united tribes and restart Orsinium, we could swing by that as well."
"Catgirls!" Xander snapped his fingers, eyes widening. "L'laarzen, that one time you said there were Khajiit that looked like humans but with cat-ears and tails. If I go to Elsweyr will I see those?"
"…Yes?"
"I'm in. When are we leaving."
"We need to stop talking about these things." Hjar leaned over and flicked Xander in the forehead, making him squawk. "All this talk of us having children is making the poor boy's imagination go wild."
"What imagination?" Xander snorted. "I have seen you all naked before."
A pause. Then—
"Wait, what?"
"Oh, yes, that did happen—"
"Who's the hottest?" Hjar asked.
"Hjarnagredda!" Xander put a hand over his chest, making an expression of sheer outrage. "I am a friend to you all and respect you greatly! I would never try to rank the three of you in the order Dulurza, Hjar, L'laarzen."
"YES!" Dulurza threw her arms up, followed by matching outrage from the other two.
"I'm kidding." Xander raised his hands in surrender. "Obviously, if I were being serious, I would have put L'laarzen first."
"Thank you." L'laarzen purred, smugly.
"You clearly weren't kidding, but I'll let it slide." Hjar chuckled. "But if we are talking about aspirations, Xander, what about you? We're all where we want to be, even if we didn't know that's where we were going a few months ago. Weren't you planning to become a God, or something?"
"Oh, right, yeah. That." Xander looked down. Smiled. "Weird. I mean, I'm still going to, but it's sort of taken a back-burner. It's…I kinda feel embarrassed about going on about it so much."
"Really?" L'laarzen raised an eyebrow. "You were quite certain about it before."
"Well yeah I—" He chuckled. "I think I wanted worship because I wanted validation. I wanted power because I wanted respect. I was a lonely, manipulative little git, surrounded by siblings who were all far smarter and stronger and better than me in all the ways that mattered. And then I came here…and I met you lot."
He looked up at them. "I didn't really want to be a god. I just wanted some real friends. And now I have them, so…thank you."
They all looked at each other.
"…AAWWW!" The three of them chorused—
"ALRIGHT DON'T OVERDO IT!"
"Little baby Xander's got friends—"
"I'm going." He stood, shaking his head amidst the laughter. "I'm leaving, you lot have fun."
His escape was well timed. Elisif had just returned from the Dragonborn, declared "Hold me." and sat down in Dulurza's lap, and Margret was fast approaching as well. He waved, laughed off their sappy followups, and moved across the party.
It wasn't hard to find his objective: Mirabelle, Muiri and Aranea were sitting together at a table, and all smiled as he approached.
"The man we were just talking about." Mirabelle said, pulling out a chair for him. "Your other friends chased you off?"
"Oh, dear, it's never good when people are talking about me." He sat, gratefully. "No, not chased. Just…"
He looked back at the other table. Margret had mimicked Elisif and sat in her girlfriend's lap, and L'laarzen (not to be outdone) had whistled over Me'Daro to sit in hers, and was now stroking the diminutive Khajiit.
He sighed.
"Something wrong?" Aranea asked.
"No, nothing, you'll think I'm being stupid." Xander shook his head.
"You're not stupid." Muiri affirmed, forcefully, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "What is it?"
"It's nothing, it—" He laughed. "I just…obviously this has all been great. But all my friends are either happily in love, or happily out of love, and I am still…like I hoped I'd…" He coughed. "Well, you know."
The response was silence, and when he turned to look, three shocked faces. He groaned internally. "I'm not whining," he lied, "seriously, I didn't mean anything by that, I just—"
"Xander." Mirabelle said. "I am in love with you. I have been trying to flirt with you for weeks."
"Champion, I'm sorry if I wasn't clear." Aranea spoke up. "I am your devoted servant in all things. If you desired sexual or romantic gratification, you only ever had to ask."
"Um—" Muiri squeaked, "I know I'm not, like, a powerful mage or anything, but I have been sort of obsessed with you ever since you completed my contract and helped me reunite with my family, and—"
I literally kissed you! Shouted Azura, Xander, in the name of me, that is a very clear invitation to—
HI YES I'M ALSO INTERERSTED IN THE ONE PERSON WHO ACTUALLY TALKS BACK TO ME. Meridia boomed, and—
PLEASE CALL ME! Shrieked Nocturnal, and—
"Oi!" Shouted Kaie, "Where's the pretty boy who showed up with the magic horse, he was cute, I wanna have a roll with him—"
"Xander!" Potema exclaimed, "I never did properly reward you for working out how to resurrect me from the dead, did I?"
Xander just sat there, slack jawed. He looked at Mirabelle. Across at Aranea. Over to Muiri, and back again. Licked his lips.
"…What?"
The End
Well...Bugger.
I never know what to say at the end of these.
This is now officially my longest and longest-running fanfiction. Didn't expect it to unseat White Eyes, but if I'm being honest, a lot more has happened overall in this fic.
Took a lot longer, though. Sorry for the hiatuses. Meant I could make room for other little projects in the meantime, like Heartbeats, Close the Loop, or Silence is Silver. That's what's happening next, by the way. I'm finishing the Dishonoured sequel fic.
So, yeah, we're done. Dulurza has her Jarl, Hjar has her Hold, L'laarzen is at peace, Xander has a harem-
I've made OCs before. Badly. This is the first time I've completed a project and actually been proud of my original characters by the end of it (except the side characters in Void Singer those are great). I set out to take four completely unlinked characters, doing their own things across Skyrim, and then bring them all together. Give them compelling arcs, make them interesting, make them fun.
At least a hundred of you seem to have agreed with me, which is great! I knew there was only so much I could do to clickbait an OC story, especially in a decade-old (if not more) fandom, when I could instead have written, fuckin, idk. ALDUIN GETS REINCARNATED AS A HUMAN IN HELGEN or something. Okay I'd actually read that-
Seriously, Skyrim fanfiction has disappointed me. I search by favourites and its all crap. If you guys have any recommendations for good (or at the very least, interesting) Skyrim fics, please tell me.
Major thanks to anyone who left a review (yes, that includes anyone who wants to gimme a final one here, you salty devils, I reply to them all). Super ultra thanks to the mfs who have repeatedly reviewed over, like, periods of years. Seriously, I barely kept focused on this, and I'm writing the damn thing.
Will there ever be a sequel? I doubt it. I have some ideas, but none that can really constitute a story. I may stick on an extra bonus ficlet after a bit; run the DLC, maybe show the team visiting Cyrodiil city to actually meet Xander's parents, see what's going on with the new Emperor...but that would involve taking this story far beyond the open book ES5 left us with.
The Dragonborn is sane, and has a Dragon army. Potema's driving Elenwen, Elisif's got a backbone. The grudge between Elisif and Ulfric (and the rift within the heart of skyrim) is far from over, but with the Dragontruce in place, the future just might be bright.
Hope. The best thing to end a story with.
I had a lot of fun writing this story. And if you've made it here, I hope you had a lot of fun too.
Thank you all for reading.
I've been Adamant39, and this has been the story of Four Walking Disasters.
May your feet bring you warm sands, may the Gods watch over your battles, may the Sky be above and your Voice be within, and may you always,
Always,
beat the shit out of the Thalmor.