CHAPTER 56: DRAGONSLAYER, part 1


A/N: This chapter starts in a slight retrospective, around the same time where chapter 54 ends. This part follows the events from Lucy's POV to the end of chapter 55, and the second part will continue from there on.


The air stood still in Riften, cold and damp, as Lucy threaded through the silent night.

With the hood of her cloak pulled over her head, she avoided the gazes of the few patrolling guards. The thin ice on the mud puddles crackled beneath her boots, each small sound feeling too loud. She kept her pace steady and calm, for a lone lady hurrying through the darkened streets would draw unwanted attention. She didn't want the guards to ask her if she was being chased or harassed, especially now, when she had more important business to attend to.

But with every step she took closer to the orphanage, guilt spread within her chest like ice on dead-still water.

The skies were shrouded in clouds, hiding the moons and stars behind a dark grey veil. A few torches and dying braziers lighted the sleeping city, but Lucy knew which alley to turn to, which buildings to pass, like clairvoyance guiding her towards her goal. Yet still, the guilt was pulling her in another direction. It told her to turn back, hurry to the inn and plunge into the bed before Natsu would find her gone. There were no regrets about the crime she was about to commit. It was lying to him that haunted her the most.

'The children are suffering,' she reminded herself, casting away the hesitation in her steps, fastening her pace a bit. She couldn't forget her mission nor the reasons behind it. 'He has to understand that I had to help them. He just has to.'

Would he really?

Though the screaming conscience caught her in a tight hold, she clung to the decision she had made. She couldn't let Grelod keep abusing the orphans for a single day more. They had suffered enough, but was that worth breaking Natsu's trust? Lucy had believed that Natsu would oppose the idea of murdering Grelod, but perhaps she had been wrong. He wouldn't have let her kill Grelod alone.

Yes, she knew the fire mage hated the idea of stepping into the territory of the assassins, but deep down he felt the same. The abuser's life was long overdue. 'Never kill the innocent,' was the moral line Natsu lived by, not 'Never kill.' Even Lucy didn't know how many he had killed. Too many to count, perhaps. One headmistress wouldn't be a drastic change to his kill count.

If she had just asked, he could've been with her in this, she realised.

What madness had taken over her? As she looked back at her actions just a moment ago, she could barely recognize that person, as if she had fallen asleep and woken up days later with no memory of what happened in between. Maybe she had thought that if he'd never find out, she could just forget it and move on, but now she saw it clearly. She had already committed the worst part. She had stabbed loyalty to the gut before she even killed anyone, and pulling the knife back wouldn't undo the damage. What was done was done.

Lucy halted in the shade of leafless trees that grew by wooden houses. In the absence of silent footsteps beside her, she found loneliness. She glimpsed to her right side where Natsu used to walk, and only now realised how empty the world was without him near. Even when they didn't talk, his presence gave her warmth and security as he held her hand in his. She had been pushing him away when she should have pulled him closer – and now she was all alone.

She glanced behind her shoulder to the alley she had come from. There were no guards here, only cats, as many pairs of small eyes carefully followed her movements in the darkness, perhaps pondering if the lonely girl would proceed further or not. Even if she'd turn back now, the lies would still be spoken, and she knew she couldn't come back from this. She had to finish what she had started, make sure she didn't lie to him for nothing, and so she turned her head and carried on, the gazes of the cats still glued on her back.

Finally, Lucy reached the narrow lane behind the orphanage. She raised her gaze to the wall, to the dark window above her head. That was Grelod's bedchamber. Lucy held her breath, the frost within her chest now creeping to her fingers and toes, slowly taking over her body. Only one last threshold she had to climb over, and then she'd reach the point of no return. What did it matter, though? The damage was already dealt. She had lied to her dearest friend. Compared to losing him, a lifetime in prison for murder felt like a mild sentence. The judgement of gods or law felt insignificant. It was his forgiveness she'd have to beg.

When she had made this decision, she had convinced herself that Natsu would understand her. The memory was distant like a dream from years ago, but she remembered the thought. Maybe, if he'd feel her pain, traverse through the dark mist that lead her to this, maybe only then he'd be able to comprehend, and forgive… and then Lucy realised she didn't want it.

She wouldn't wish this pain on anyone.

'I hope you don't understand, Natsu,' she thought, and turned her gaze to the window one last time, hesitation within her withering. 'I hope you don't ever have to feel this way, even if it means you wouldn't forgive me.'

Lucy glanced over her shoulder once more. The alley was empty, and so she set her foot on the rough-edged stone foundation of the orphanage and stepped up. She gripped her fingertips into the wooden plank wall, pulled herself upwards, and set her boots higher. Her hands reached for the window frame. Making sure she wouldn't slip, she secured her hold, and felt the window opening as she pulled it towards her. The hinges creaked quietly as the windowpane opened. She braced herself, gathering the embers of courage, and climbed inside.

Then, a strong scent of blood permeated her senses.

Her boots thumped to the wooden floor. She closed the window after her and froze completely. There was a figure in the bed, very still, and very quiet. Her stare locked on the dark-red pool on the floor, but the realization struck her with delay. Only when she saw the dagger in the woman's other hand, resting on her stomach, she understood what had happened.

Grelod the Kind was already dead.

Lucy rubbed her eyes, but the vision remained. Suddenly lightheaded, she took a step backwards, and then her legs refused to move. Faint, fading candlelight fluttered on the bedside table, painting the grisly scene in a golden glow. Crimson liquid dripped down from a thin, wrinkled arm, cut open from the wrist to the elbow. The droplets landed on a puddle beneath the bed like a fading rain, making circles on the surface. A handwritten letter rested on the nightstand, but before Lucy could read it, the candle burnt out.

And at that moment, the light within her finally dimmed, too.

Slowly, she began to comprehend it. As a result of her magical assault, Grelod the Kind's psyche had shattered more than she expected. It had been supposed to be temporary, merely a passing fright, something to make her see how dreadful her ways had been. Apparently, she had seen it, indeed – and had not been able to live with it. Perhaps it was a final act of pride, finishing herself off before anyone else got the pleasure of killing her.

And then, Lucy realised she had come here for nothing.

Though she hadn't been present when Grelod had taken her last breath, everything had gone just as she planned. But was she supposed to feel victorious, like a righteous hero after delivering justice for orphans? She didn't. Instead, guilt clenched her chest like an iron fist. There was no need for sympathies – the crone got was she deserved, but it was a different dread that filled her mind.

She had broken Natsu's trust for absolutely nothing.

Letting out a pained sigh, Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. She could've stayed in the inn with him, fallen asleep safely in his arms, and the result would've still been the same. Her hands were clean, but blood could stain without a touch. Innocence died quietly. It didn't bleed, it didn't writhe, it didn't struggle for the last breath. It went down silently, without a fight, like putting a tired child to sleep. Maybe it had been dead for much longer than she even knew, the naïve foolish trust of having any goodness left in her soul now petrified, covered in old, dried blood.

Lucy stood there in the darkness, almost as still as Grelod the Kind. She should be heading back to Bee and Barb before she'd face a whole different set of consequences than her own conscience, but she couldn't find the strength to move. If, and only if she'd make it back before Natsu would find her gone, everything could be alright, that's what she had sworn herself, nothing but another lie. The burden of this secret would be too great to bear. In time, it would grind everything to dust – trust, loyalty, companionship, no matter how strong, lies and secrets were the snakes that gnawed them to the bone.

There was only one weapon, one magic spell that killed those serpents: telling the truth.

The truth was the light that chased the snakes away, drove them back to their holes, Lucy knew it well. Natsu himself could tell a story about it, too. If she didn't want to lose him, she'd have to tell him the truth about what happened here tonight, no matter what it would cost her. Once before, he had been brave enough to take the same risk. It was her turn to be brave, face her lies, and bear the consequences. If she wouldn't, she'd end up just as miserably alone as she was now.

But maybe… maybe that would be for the best.

Looking at herself, she couldn't see much that she recognized anymore. Half of her had disappeared. The Lucy she had known would've never done this – what was left of her was something else, something twisted and wicked, something that should be left alone. The evil nature of the dragons had taken over her heart, and everything she held dear would be consumed in the same darkness. Natsu was bound to see that sooner or later, feel that in his bones, and if he could be salvaged by leaving her alone, then Lucy hoped he'd let her go and run away before she'd know.

'I don't deserve to have you,' she thought alone, tears blinding her vision as she stared at the lifeless headmistress. She had barely understood what she had done, and her power had caused this prideful woman to do this. If Natsu would stay with her, it was only a matter of time before she'd hurt him, too. 'And you deserve something much better than me, Natsu.'

Then, a horn was sounded in the distance, low and mournful.

Lucy raised her gaze from the corpse. Outside the window, a few torches fluttered in the darkened alley. She heard guards setting into motion. One blast of a horn was a call for aid, that had happened several times during their stay at Riften. However, those calls woke half the city, so she'd better hurry back before half the city would be awake. Her heart began to race within her chest, urging her to move.

When she turned her back to the unmoving woman, the call came again, louder than before. Other horns joined the sound, the blast shuddering through the sleeping city.

Lucy cursed under her breath as the commotion began to stir outside the orphanage. Steel boots clanked on the streets when soldiers ran to the gates. If Natsu had been sitting in the tavern with the others, now he certainly wouldn't. He could've ignored one call, but two? Lucy's plans for getting back before he'd notice were now eradicated. She would've told him the truth anyway, but would his heart break from terror when he'd find her missing? She felt sick in the stomach, stabbed to the guts by guilt when she imagined it.

Everything was going straight to the Void.

Listening to the panicked commotion down below, Lucy rushed to the window. A group of soldiers ran through the alley, armed with bows and arrows. A commander shouted orders to them, told them to fight bravely, and Lucy's breath got stuck in her throat. What in the Oblivion was going on? Had a bandit clan gotten bold or desperate enough to attack the city, or was it the Imperials?

When they were out of sight, Lucy climbed to the windowsill and turned backwards, inching herself over the edge. She hung from the ledge, she reached for the ajar windowpane, but her fingertips pushed it further away. Lucy cursed, biting her tongue. There was no time to waste, but she couldn't leave the damn window open. Otherwise, whoever would find Grelod's corpse would get suspicious that the suicide hadn't been a suicide. She extended her arm, rose to her toes as she tried to reach it, but then, she slipped.

Before she could even realise that she had fallen, a familiar pain pierced through her feet when she landed on the ground. The accursed crack echoed in her ears, no matter how she had tried to bend her knees and spread the impact more evenly.

Some wounds never truly healed.

Lucy suffocated a scream of frustration. The fall hadn't been that high, but the wrong angle had been too much for her once-broken ankles. Agony radiated from them when she pushed herself to sit, holding her feet as she cursed the names of the Divines. 'For Kynareth's sake, why does this always happen to me?' Quickly, her quivering fingers began unlacing her boots. A sprain she could heal with her magic, but if they had dislocated again, there wasn't much she could do to them on her own.

Then, the horns were blown for the third time, the blast reverberating on and on as it would never die.

Tears welled up in Lucy's eyes when the physical pain got buried beneath an ominous, ice-cold dread. The bells began tolling in the towers of Mistveil Keep, hollowly echoing across the city. Amongst those dull rings, Lucy heard a distant roar, coming from the northern gate. The sound resonated within her bones. It made her blood boil and head ring. She tried to deny it, but when it roared again, she no longer could.

It was a fucking dragon.

Unable to breathe, Lucy pulled the boots from her feet and investigated the damage in the darkness. Her ankles were twisted into an unnatural position, deformed, useless. In an utter rage, Lucy wanted to cut them off with an axe. Denying the damage, she attempted to stand up, but pain swept her legs beneath her. Her face met the ground when she tumbled down. Blood mixed with the tears running down her cheeks, but she gritted her teeth, and tried again.

Once more, her legs gave up, refusing to carry her for a single step. She banged her fists on the cobbled stones. She cursed the gods, cursed herself, for tonight, she had made the series of greatest mistakes of her life, and now she'd pay for it, bitterly with the blood of everything she had ever loved. Even if she'd have no feet to walk on, no wings to fly with, she'd crawl back to Natsu if she had to. She took back what she had just thought. They couldn't be apart from each other. Not now. Not ever. Only together, they'd survive through this storm.

She should've known that before.

"Lady, do you need help?"

Lucy lifted her head towards the frail voice that sounded through the ruckus. A fair-haired woman stood in front of her, carrying a lantern in her hand. When she had appeared, she didn't know. Before Lucy even nodded, the woman crouched beside her and placed the lantern next to Lucy's twisted feet. Lucy shook her head. While she desperately needed help, she knew this stranger should run to safety. To the southern gate, as far from the city as she just could, before these streets would turn into blazing deathtraps.

"Did you fall, lady?" the woman asked. She rolled up the long sleeves of her dark-red robes, adorned with sigils of goddess Mara. Was she a priestess from the nearby temple? She must've heard the calls, and headed out to help others. "Feel no fear, let me heal you."

Sometimes, encounters with strangers were wonderful strikes of luck.

"But –"

The woman placed her hands on Lucy's right foot with an experienced touch, like she had done this a hundred times before. "Hold your leg beneath the thigh while I pull your ankles back to the place," she ordered, straightforward and bold, but with gentleness in her tone.

Lucy nodded, grasped her thigh, and then the woman pulled. Lucy's vision went black from the pain, yet only briefly. When her ankle popped back to the right spot, the sharpest agony eased, leaving behind a fading ache. The woman moved to her other foot, still twisted and misplaced, and she pulled again. Lucy bit on her tongue to hold back a squeal.

When both her feet were back in place, the priestess nodded to her. "There you go, lady."

"T-thank you… Thank you so much. I… I should be able to heal them now," Lucy answered, her eyes glistening with grateful tears. A bright, white light flashed in the darkness as she cast a healing spell on her bruised ankles. Like frost on the first day of spring, the agony began to melt away. "You should get out of the city. It's not safe here. Go to the –"

Lucy began to put her boots back on. Then, the woman placed her hand on Lucy's shoulder, interrupting her. She lifted her gaze to the priestess, only now being able to truly see her as the clouds of pain subsided from her vision. With dark brown eyes, the woman observed her, peaceful as if the northern side of the city wasn't being set aflame by a flying beast. There was comfort in her gaze, warm solace, something that said, 'you're not as evil as you think.'

"You misunderstand me, dear. I'm not running away. Mara's domain encompasses the emotions we strive the most to embrace; love, compassion and understanding. With her benevolence guiding me, I'll stay where my help is needed the most," the woman said softly. "It's difficult to appreciate her gifts in these dark times, but you should consider her light a beacon in the storm, and even the fiercest storms will pass away."

Lucy nodded to her, then the priestess let go of her shoulder, an echo of the warm touch remaining on her skin. She reached out her hand. Lucy took it, and the woman helped her back to her wobbly feet. They carried her now, a wave of relief washing over her body. Lucy turned her eyes from the woman to the skies, dyed in hues of orange and red as the flames kept spreading from building to building. Here, her help was needed the most, she realised.

As much as she wanted to run straight back to Natsu, embrace him tight and collapse into the security of his arms, Lucy knew she couldn't. Not yet. Bitterly, she was forced to see that trying to find him amongst the burning chaos would be a death sentence. She had to trust in the unison they shared, trust in his strength and survival. Fate would bring them back to each other when the time was right.

But first, there was a damn dragon that needed some killing.

"I'll keep that in my mind," Lucy answered the priestess and turned away. "Thank you, again. It's time for me to go do my part in –"

Her voice was cut when a rapid gust of wind nearly threw them both off their balance. The red-scaled dragon soared over them, fast as lightning as its monstrous shape contrasted against the night sky.

"YOL – THOR – SHUL!"

Upon those words, the wall that framed the alley crumbled down from the unmatched strength of the flame. In the blink of an eye, Lucy's surroundings clouded in stone, dust, and fire. She called for the protection of Steadfast Ward, a magical shield enveloping her into temporary safety. Amongst the toll of bells and blows of the horns, she heard a brief, pained scream, then it went silent.

And when the dust settled, she found the priestess crushed below the collapsed wall.

The woman had fallen on her back. Only her chest and face were visible amongst the stones. Her eyes grew unfocused and blurred, blood burst from her mouth with a violent cough. Lucy rushed to her, knelt by her side, but as the woman's blood began to pool beneath her, she knew there was nothing to be done. She cursed when the priestess closed her eyes, took in a last ragged breath, and then she was gone.

"May you find peace in Mara's benevolence, then," Lucy whispered. Holding back the tears, she touched the woman's forehead and raised her gaze to the skies once again.

The dragon flew towards Mistveil Keep, pouring down flames from its mouth. This one was larger than the previous dragons, almost as large as Alduin himself. Its size alone failed to fill her grieving heart with dread – it was the cunning, cruel aura it radiated that sent shivers down her spine. An ancient, glorious hunter of humankind, prideful and arrogant in its power. But then, Lucy's lips twisted into a faint smirk.

What a glory it would be to absorb that mighty power and make it hers.

Holding onto that determination, Lucy glanced down at the dead priestess. The bloodied vision began to fade, guilt and grief and sorrow feeding the fire within her. A strategy began to form in her mind. There was no room for emotions, only for rational, calculated thought – only that way, she could survive, and take down a dragon. Here, today, she had to harness the power of her slain dragons to its full extent, the power that was hers by birthright.

When the dragon shouted in the distance, the words resonated within her soul. Just like in her dream, when she had visited the First and touched the hearts of the dragons sealed into her, their power rushed over her like a great wave of the ocean. It didn't sweep her away, didn't crush her, for now, she was the rocky shore that crushed the wave. She stood up, turned her gaze to the dragon, and headed out for the hunt.

Growing fires gave light into the darkness around her, and so she began to follow the alley to the Keep. The dragon's previous strike had destroyed the wall and the buildings behind her, blocking the route she had come from. Pain drained the strength from her first steps, but soon that was forgotten when she focused on her mission. From the distance, she heard the wails of dying soldiers who fought the despairing battle against the dragon.

Her eyes followed the dragon's flight. It soared above the city, its gaze scanning the ground below it, as if it was searching for something. Her, Lucy suddenly knew. The dragon had come here to take her, but why? How could it have known she's in Riften? She pondered it while running through the narrow streets, trying to make her way to the Mistveil Keep. In its stone fortifications, she'd have most shelter against the dragon. If she stayed in the city, she'd find herself trapped below burning wood in the blink of an eye. Deep down, she hoped Natsu would think the same, and head towards the Keep, wherever he was now.

Then, she realised something important.

When she had opened the passageway to the graveyard of the dragons, she reached for energy that dwelled far within an ethereal plane. She was a vessel, the connector between Nirn and the otherworld, and such a path had not been formed in centuries. As the power flowed to her like a swiftly-running stream, hints of other energies joined it. And there was something within that stream that the dragons sensed and recognized, that she had not even calculated.

The power of the First Dragonborn.

The First had been a priest among their order, widely recognized and deeply hated by the dragons when he turned against them in his rebellion. Maybe a fraction of his aura had resurfaced in the world through her, and now, the dragons could vaguely trace it – and also know where she was. However, only her Thu'um would reveal her completely. Maybe that's what the dragon tried, to lure her out and make her Shout. She couldn't afford that yet, only when she'd have a clean line of aim, when she'd be sure she could engage in direct battle.

Lucy ran below the gatehouse, sprinted across the street, reaching the walls of Mistveil Keep. Guards, soldiers, and battlemages flooded through the gates sprung ajar. The commander, a short man wearing Stormcloak colours in his armour, ordered the group with uncertainty in his tone. He shouted, yet fear broke deep cracks into his voice, making him lose the edge of his command. The fighters sensed this. When even the bravest leaders fell, how could his men not succumb to fear?

She had to show them an example.

Most of them had never seen a dragon. Some might even think those were only a legend, or some Thalmor propaganda, but now they finally saw the truth. And for most, it would be the last thing they'd ever see. Still, the effort of each soldier was needed. They had to make every arrow count for the sake of humanity's survival. If Riften would fall, other cities would follow – this day dictated the course of fate.

So, Lucy summoned her magical bow.

The ethereal weapon formed from threads of sorcery, woven into deadly brilliance, and when the dragon soared over them again, it was ready. She nocked an arrow, aimed, and released. The arrow tore a hole in the scaleless wings. Though it failed to erupt even a grunt of pain from the dragon's throat, its meaning ran deeper than that. Dragons could be harmed, and they could be killed.

And as Lucy nocked another arrow, they found their lost courage.

Soon, a rain of arrows followed the lead of the gleaming one. Only two soldiers had glanced at her, seen her standing on the edge of the courtyard with her bound bow, and it had been enough. Commands were shouted, bravery revoked in their tones, and then arrows were drawn. As Lucy aimed and shot another time, the few battlemages unleashed their sorcery upon the dragon. Chain lightning and firebolts assaulted the beast, then it disappeared behind the walls, continuing its search for the one it feared.

Lucy took a deep breath when the dragon was out of her sight. It wouldn't be long until it would return, but now, something else had caught its attention. Not a whisper of a Word of Power had left her lips, she had remained undetected by the dragon, then what had made the dragon fly away? Lucy heard it land on top of a watchtower in the distance, how the stone came crumbling down when it lashed its tail at the gatehouse. It was trying to block the exits, make sure no one would leave the city.

"What are you doing here, girl? Get out!" the commander shouted to Lucy, taking a few steps closer to her. His face was pale in the darkness, and blood flowed down in thin trails from below his iron helmet. "I've heard some folks are evacuating the citizens to the lake and down to the canals. This ain't a place for -"

"Silence," Lucy snapped to the man, and his voice was cut. "I know damn well where my place is, and it's here. Go tell your men to stop wetting their fucking trousers and start aiming for the dragon's mouth."

The commander stared at her quietly, then he nodded, and turned to his men. Lucy didn't stay behind to listen. She observed the Keep's courtyard, studied the enforcements, and began to form a battle plan. This dragon breathed fire, its Thu'um was strong enough to wreck walls and tear down houses, but the castle itself had survived the previous assaults. Mistveil Keep and its watchtowers were built to endure everything from fierce winter storms to giants and Imperial armies, reinforced with ancient magic. Lucy's gaze followed the tower up to its terrace, but before she could find its entrance, a shout tore through the skies.

"ZUN – HAL – VIIK!"

Weapon, hand, defeat. Disarming shout, she recognised. Then, a blinding, bright light filled Lucy's vision, and half a heartbeat later, a strike of thunder split the skies.

Lucy braced her stance as a gust of rapidly moving air tried to sweep her off her feet. The rumbling sound carried all across the city, like gods themselves had cast lightning down to earth. But it was no thunder. A wave of intense heat followed the noise and replaced the light, a warmth that could only belong to one person.

Natsu.

She raised her eyes to the sky. The remnants of the explosion lingered in the air like dying ghosts, firelight fading into the darkness. She had to squint her eyes and raise her hand to her brow, for something was raining down from the smoke clouds. She froze at the sight. Sparks, she realised. Small, gleaming embers, thousands upon thousands floated to the ground. They set aflame everything they touched, blooming into full-grown fires. To her protection, Lucy cast a thin layer of frost to smother the sparks that landed on her cloak.

Amongst the rain of embers, a firebolt flew through the air, falling ever down until it hit the courtyard, a small distance away from where Lucy stood. Steel clanked against the cobbled stone, the ball ricocheted from the ground, then fell again, clattering brightly. The flames died down, but something was left behind. Feeling cold and hollow in the chest, Lucy walked across the yard, then reached the mysterious object. She recognised it instantly.

It was Natsu's dagger.

Any other weapon would've melted from the heat, but Skyforge Steel was different. It could only be forged in Skyforge, and no other flame could ever melt it, but Natsu's fire had made it smoulder. The once-bright, sharp steel had turned gleaming red, sizzling from the inferno that had surrounded it.

Lucy crouched by the weapon, dispelled her bow, and cast frost upon her palm. Steam seared to the skies as the hot steel cooled down. Ice swirled around the dagger until the red faded back to silvery grey, then she picked it up, and her hands began to shiver. For a moment, the heat that still radiated from the dagger fooled her to believe she was holding his hand in hers, but then, the warmth faded.

Then, across the distance, Lucy heard the dragon's voice. It raged through the burning city like a quake – the beast spoke directly to someone, and Lucy knew who it was.

"Hi los ni Dovahkiin, yol zii, nuz hi lost yolos se dov. Zu'u dahmaan hi, kruziik fron."

Upon hearing those ancient words, her mind translated them into the human tongue. You are not a Dragonborn, fire spirit, but you have the flame of a dragon. I remember you, ancient kin. Even though she could understand it, she struggled to comprehend what it meant. Flame of a dragon, in Natsu's soul? With her trembling hands, she tied the dagger to her belt, and rushed to the gates. She had to see, she had to hear.

There, atop the city wall to the east, the dragon was perched – and in her heart, she knew Natsu was there, too. He must've attempted to take the dragon down with the flaming spear, but its shout had torn the weapon from his hold. Lucy was too far to hear if he answered, too far to shoot the dragon with her bow, so she just listened – and whatever determination she had just held in her heart withered, buried under the dismay she failed to keep at bay.

"Krosis. Forgive me, it has been long since I've held tinvaak with a stranger. I forget joorre speak not dovahzul, but I'm not here to discuss for long," said the dragon, and now, Lucy knew Natsu had answered to it – possibly with some profanities. The pauses between its words were long as it struggled to speak in the language of the mortals. Tinvaak meant discussion, and joorre meant a mortal. "It's the Dovahkiin I seek, and you are not one. But you… no. Hin yol. Your fire. That I've known before…"

Lucy shook her head faintly. Her suspicions were confirmed – the dragon had truly come here for her, but now, Natsu had stolen its attention. Had he been trying to win her some time, or was it a mere coincidence? Whatever it was, Lucy couldn't have her focus swayed by mysteries. She remembered how much firing that spell had drained Natsu's magicka in Labyrinthian, and she had to get to him, now.

But right before she ran past the gate, the commander grabbed her from the shoulders and pulled her back. "Didn't you just say your place is here, archer girl? Then you better stay!" the man shouted at her, distracting her from the dragon's speech. "If you want to be helpful with that magic bow of yours, go to the wall with my –"

Lucy bent her arm and struck the commander in the face with her elbow. He grunted as blood burst from his nose, he slouched forward from the pain and gathered his palms into a cup below his bleeding face. She turned around on her heels, ran through the open gate as soldiers yelled behind her. "The dragon's down now! To the positions on the wall! Let's go! Move, move, move!" She had been mistaken. Her place wasn't here – it was by Natsu's side.

She just hoped she could make it in time.

Her blood rushed in her ears as she ran downhill from the castle. The dragon remained within her field of sight, but when she made it to the district surrounding the keep, crumbled houses blocked her path, as if a burning cyclone had swept through the street. She cursed, then cursed again as the other alley was obstructed by collapsed walls and flames that stroked tall towards the skies. The dragon had destroyed this part of the city earlier, but Lucy wouldn't let it – or anything else – stand in her way.

So, she whispered a word.

"Feim."

Then, she faded.

Her body took an ethereal form, a ghostly shape that couldn't harm, nor could be harmed. The raining embers fell right through her gleaming, transparent frame. This power didn't last long, but the brief moment of invincibility was enough for her to reach the other side of the blocked street. But right when she was about to step into the fire, another Thu'um pierced through the night, her whisper being like candlelight compared to an inferno.

"YOL – THOOR – SHUL!"

A contest of flames commenced atop the wall. Fire poured on and on from the dragon's mouth, shattering Lucy's heart as she watched in utter helplessness how everything disappeared into the flames. Natsu had been right there. Right in the way of that flame. Even if he considered fire to be his only god, how could he have survived that? Lucy froze in place, petrified in terror.

The echo of the dragon's Thu'um faded out, and when the flames were smothered, the dragon spoke again.

"Yes… it is true. Now, match my flame. Answer it! Let me remember the name of the dovah whose fire you have inherited!"

When she felt the tension building up in the air, she instinctively took a step back, despite her ethereal state. Whatever was going on, she knew this wasn't the moment when she should get in Natsu's way. Something about it said, 'Lucy, if you're out there, back off, now. I've got this.'

A blaze appeared near the dragon, familiar and warm, but frightening. Currents of smoke swirled around the centre, ever gathering enough strength, all rage and fear transmuted into pure flaming chaos. Was that the true extent of Natsu's power? A blink of an eye later, Lucy realised she was wrong. The spell grew, flames swelled, for the storm had not yet reached its maximum apex.

The worst was yet to come.

Looking from afar, it looked like someone had opened the doors of Oblivion and let all the demons swarm out – the air was set aflame, the wall beneath him began to crumble, and Lucy didn't even want to imagine what he had to be feeling now. His emotions seemed to be directly manifested into flame. It had always been so. But this… Lucy had never seen him going all out like this. For a moment, she was sure that he'd set the whole world on fire – the air, the earth, the skies, he'd burn down Oblivion and Void itself if something wouldn't stop him now.

Then, the firestorm was unleashed.

The heat lashed against her face. She wasn't supposed to feel anything through the ethereal veil, but she sensed his warmth. A deafening blast made her ears ring, and the pressure wave of the explosion sent her through the air. The raging magicka of Natsu's fire caught her like a dry leaf in the wind, but instead of smashing her to the stony ground, it embraced her like protective arms, and carried her away. In this temporary form, she had no body, only a magical, transient frame, but his fire recognised her anyway – and sought out every possible way to protect her from this nightmare. Even if he'd set the world on fire, he wouldn't let a single flame touch her.

The currents of flame passed her back to the safety of Mistveil Keep, flooding through the gates, and then her Thu'um reached her limit. Her body rematerialized, she collapsed on her knees in the courtyard, and watched with shock-stricken eyes as the epicentre of the explosion swallowed the city. A few gentle drops fell on her face. She raised her gaze to the sky, now covered in storm clouds, and soon it emerged into a downpour. The rain smothered the flames around her, but failed to soothe the dread in her heart.

She had lost sight of the dragon, but there it came again – soaring through the pouring rain, its wings set ablaze. It landed on the wrecked city wall, roared in pain, though its wounds were far from fatal. A curse escaped Lucy's lips, silently as it died below all the panicked ruckus. Natsu's fire licked its scales, but failed to breach past their protection. It might've turned them brittle, like wood burned into coal – and now, only one arrow, only one spear would be enough to reach its heart and kill it.

"Yes… Agnoslok, zeymah, without a doubt! It has been so long since I've felt your flame. Sizaan wah fin bok," the dragon said then. Even across the distance, Lucy could hear its words clearly. It was talking to Natsu, she knew, and that gave her hope. He was still alive, perhaps by a miracle. "Yet it's beyond my comprehension how you even exist with dovahyol burning in your heart. Maybe that's why Alduin was unable to wake him. It seems his yol was stolen by the bruniike… the Akaviri… and then…"

Agnoslok.

The name rang a bell in Lucy's mind, though through all this chaos, she struggled to connect where she'd heard it before. Or had she read it? A faint memory of Gildarts's quarters in the Ratway surfaced, it cleared, and then she remembered Annals of the Dragonguard. Ancient history of the Blades, written amongst those pages, investigations of Alduin's Eight Generals… There it had been. She hadn't bothered to give it a second thought back then, and now, she regretted.

"This kul… boy… would surely intrigue my thur, Alduin," spoke the dragon, as if answering to someone. Lucy focused on its words again, for the matter of Agnoslok had to wait now. "But I, Odahviing, have another… obligation. It is the Dovahkiin I must bring to the Order, orin brit ro…"

Lucy's heart skipped a beat, and she couldn't hear the rest.

Odahviing's name had read on that book, too – which means she was up against one of the strongest dragons ever lived. Desperation began to bloom within her soul, like a black poison plant it twined its roots around her, tried to convince her that this was a battle she could not win. Yet she refused, cut through those vines, for whatever could come, she'd stand through. She had to.

Then, the dragon shouted again.

"MIL – MUR – NIR!"

Shivering, Lucy turned her eyes to the skies. Rain whipped her face, the waterdrops looking like tears, stained black from all the smoke in the air. Odahviing's Thu'um seemed to have no immediate effect, but Lucy knew better. That had been a call. Every dragon responded to their names, they came when called for, and now Lucy sensed one coming. Milmurnir, a lesser dragon in the hierarchy, called to fulfill a lesser mission. That one would bring Natsu to the Order – to the dragon cult, as it was called in the ancient times – while Odahviing would bring her to them.

A choir of terrified soldiers screamed in their positions upon the Keep's walls and on the terrace of the watchtower. Lucy stood alone in the courtyard, her gaze lifted when a shape formed through the mist. It grew bigger, soared closer until grey scales and wings emerged from the smoke clouds. The dragon, smaller than Odahviing, landed atop the tower. The screams ended with a wet splash when the soldiers got crushed under the beast.

Not knowing what else to do, Lucy attempted to summon her bow. But now, the threads of magicka seemed too short, cut and sliced apart, blocked by an impenetrable force – fear. It stood in the way like a stubborn giant, for it was all too much for her handle alone. She trembled as she watched Odahviing float close to Milmurnir, right ahead of her, but when those dragons talked, she could not hear them. Her mind went blank with panic, the air got stuck in her throat like a chunk of permafrost, and she felt her senses fading. She knew she could not succumb to fear, not now, but piece by piece her psyche finally crumbled.

Her sense of time clouded, seeming slow and fast at the same time, like an aeon had passed in the blink of an eye. Instinctively, she reached for the root of the watchtower, searched for shelter from its shadow. A stairway led down to the tower's cellar, but she had only stepped on the first step when darkness wiped over her, soaring above like a black ghost of death. She turned her gaze to the sky one last time, and heard a shout.

"FUS – RO – DAH!"

Then, it was dark.


Lucy awakened to the silence.

Pain swept across her body like waves washing to the shore, mercilessly pulling her back to consciousness with each stroke. The visions of lives past her faded into darkness, lost dreams of power that had slipped right through her fingers. Through the numbing pain, she felt something warm and wet flowing down her face, and slowly she began to grasp what had happened to her. The dragon's Thu'um, Unrelenting Force was the last thing she could remember, and that force had thrown her down like a lifeless doll.

As she regained control of her limbs, she rolled to her stomach and tried to push herself up. Something hot rose to her throat, but before she tasted it, the bloodied bile burst from her mouth with a brutal cough. It splattered on her hands, dripped down her chin, made her shudder as it burned her skin like acid. Lucy took a deep breath, and managed to lift herself to a crouching position. From there, she slowly got up to her feet, taking support from the cold stone wall when it felt like she'd fall again.

Then, she cast a Candlelight into the darkness.

A blinding blue light emerged from nothingness and shone above her like a beacon. Lucy squinted her eyes as the sudden brightness made her head ring, but slowly she adjusted to the light. She had no memory of where she was. She could see a windowless, rounded room, with barrels lined to the walls, swords and axes hanging from the racks. As she turned around, she found a stairway out, yet the exit was blocked by collapsed stone. Trails of blood descended down the steps and ended where she stood. Lucy wiped her eyes, lowered her hand, and began to shiver at the sight.

Blood dripped down from her fingertips, like adding raindrops to the crimson painting beneath her on the stony floor. She reached for her hairline and gently touched the jagged skin on her forehead. Her fair hair was dyed rusty red with blood, turned matted and sticky. Grimacing, she condensed magicka onto her hand and sewed the bleeding wound closed with gleaming threads of restoration. When she was done, she moved down on her injured body, closing the cuts the fall had torn on her.

'How long was I out?' she wondered, a vacant question with no answers. The silence faded as her body healed. Commotion carried through the layers of stone and earth, echoes of fading screams and roars of dragons. The only thing she knew was that the situation out there had gone from bad to worse, but how much, that was yet to be seen.

When she no longer bled, she swirled around, still leaning against the wall. On the other side of the chamber, an old wooden ladder led to the ceiling. Slowly, she walked closer. There was a trapdoor where the ladder ended, and so she climbed up and tried to push it. The door opened into a second floor, seeming like the bottom base of a tower, empty and abandoned. Every guard was out there fighting the dragon – or dead, which was more likely.

The dread that had taken over her when the second dragon had appeared began to crystallize within her. It formed sharp, frozen blades of fear, cut her open from the inside, and no magic could heal that. There had been no sign of Natsu after the firestorm had erupted in the centre of the city, but Lucy clung to the belief that he had not died in the explosion. Odahviing had ordered Milmurnir to bring him to the Order, after all, but did they need him alive? These doubts filled Lucy's mind with grief, but she knew she couldn't afford to weep now. Uncertainty was the worst of all things, but not until she'd held his lifeless body in her arms, let her fingers swift past his ashes, she wouldn't grieve.

Listening to the despair raging outside the tower, she ran to the spiralled, stony stairway that lined the walls, leading from one floor to another. The roars of the dragons shook the foundations of the tower, but it stood strong. The courtyard might be in ruin, torn down by the dragon's Thu'um, but magic had been woven into the building blocks of the tower long ago. As she made it near the top, and glanced through the small window on the wall. Here, from the watchtower of Mistveil Keep, the tallest building of Riften, she could see all across the burning city, and finally get a direct line of aim.

She was just about to let go of the rough edges of the window, when flames struck through the streets near the centre of the city. The exploding sound came with delay – and when it came, the blinding bright wave swept across the city, and threw her off her feet when it hit the tower.

Lucy shielded her face with her arms as small rocks and dust fell from the ceiling, torn down as the explosion quaked the ground. Shock robbed her mind of every thought, leaving behind blank white space, filled with the noise of a thousand deaths. A series of blasts drummed down below like dozens of firebolts in a pearl string spiralling out of control. The destruction unleashed, blocks of stone and ruin and human flesh thrown to the skies, then raining down as ashes.

Something unspeakably terrible had just happened, something perfectly unexpected, like a nightmare within a nightmare, terrors of Oblivion unleashed on Nirn. She couldn't even comprehend it. Tears welled up in her eyes as she remained perfectly still, curled up like a hatchling of a dragon still inside its egg. Screams carried through the air, she heard them all so well from up here, and one by one, they faded.

When the quaking ceased, Lucy lowered her shaking hands from her face. Teardrops had washed clean trails on the dust and blood staining her fair skin. She stood up, walked back to the window, and glanced outside. Grief, despite she'd sworn she wouldn't feel it yet, flooded her heart with the strength of the ocean. The blackest clouds of smoke veiled the devastation, but she knew the centre of the city had been levelled to the ground, and every unfortunate soul buried at the same.

It was a blink of an eye that it took to turn a lively city into a graveyard. It had been her fate to prevent it. She, the Dragonborn, had been supposed to stop this from happening, and she had failed. Her path was paved only with failures, and that one-way street would only lead her to the Void.

She just couldn't keep watching it anymore.

Lucy turned away from the window, swallowed a sob, and the grief within her began to change. The magnitude of the blast still reverberated in her bones. Natsu had been somewhere out there, lost within the raging sea of flames. Could he have survived that? As much as Lucy wanted to believe that fire was on his side, collapsing walls and flying rocks were not. She had held onto the hope of finding him alive, hearing his voice just once more, that hope faded now.

And in the ashes of her hope, rage emerged.

She stood still amidst the darkness as the Candlelight dimmed out, and the air around her began to turn cold as a grave. When she closed her eyes, the tears of sorrow froze on her cheeks. If Natsu's rage had been embodied as flame, hers took the form of ice. She had felt this power before, sourced from an immeasurable loss, but back then it hadn't been her loss, not her grief, not her love. It had taken over her when Krosulhah had lost its child, and now, she had lost her fire mage.

The only one she ever truly loved.

There was something incredibly bittersweet in not knowing what one loved until it was gone. As if one had been blinded by slowly-grown affection, taken love for granted, and only death had broken that illusion. She realised that now. He had been more, so much more than just a friend. Deep down, she had loved him with all of her wicked heart, perhaps much longer than she ever knew.

And she'd kill every last dragon for taking him away from her.

Then she opened her icy blue eyes, and the swirling, frozen air drifted into a blizzard.

Scales formed on her skin from the frost, spread from her cheeks down her neck until they covered her limbs in a steel-hard armour. As she hurried up the last stairway leading to the terrace on top of the tower, her vision adjusted into the darkness, becoming clearer and sharper than human eyes could ever bear. She drained strength directly from the lifeforce of the slain dragons that had rested dormant within her for too long, yet now it surfaced on Nirn again, fully in the Dragonborn's control.

The aspect of dragons surrounded her like an aura, gleaming ancient light into the night. The power sealed within their souls now overtook her mortality, making her less of a human and more like a dragon, a born hunter of the dragonkind, all light and goodness within her gone. Guided by her instincts and Akatosh's blessing, she reached the tower's roof, and locked her murderous gaze with the red-scaled dragon, Odahviing.

Without a hint of mercy in her heart, she condensed the raging blizzard into a spear.

Upon its creation, her mind sought inspiration from the ancient weapons of the Blades, one of which she'd read about from the Annals of the Dragonguard: a long cross spear, its razor-sharp tip strong enough to bury deep within a dragon's hide. She weaved in sorcery of frost, made brittle ice as hard as dragonbone, heavy for her to lift, yet her rage gave her strength. Gritting in her teeth, she raised the weapon into a position, aimed for the dragon, predicted its movements, and thrust the spear forward with all of her might.

Time seemed to slow down as her gaze followed the weapon's flight, but in half a heartbeat, it struck its target, sinking deep into the dragon's shoulder.

A shrill of a wounded beast filled the air, echoing triumph in Lucy's ears. She watched in silent satisfaction as Odahviing spiralled down from the skies – one of Alduin's generals, not crippled for good, but not dead. Her spear had sunk through the root of its wing. It might've missed the vital parts, but at least it would never fly again.

Fire and blood rained upon the destroyed city, and Lucy sensed how the atmosphere amongst the living shifted from despair to hope. None of them seemed to understand what was happening, but it did not matter. The tides had finally changed. That was all they knew.

Somewhere outside these walls, Odahviing collapsed to the ground with the force of a fallen star. Lucy heard the earth shudder upon the impact, the echo of the dragon's pained wail. The smaller dragon landed atop the temple of Mara, and screeched from the bottom of its lungs. Dragons grieved, too – and it was a terrifying thing, but Lucy didn't fear. The sorrow of a human heart was much more frightening, and soon this dragon would face its wrath fully unleashed.

"Ruth strun bah, Dovahkiin!" Milmurnir roared out its hate. "Kren sosaal!"

"Aaz hah so," Lucy answered, the words coming to her as if she had always spoken the language. A mocking expression of sorrow, followed by a declaration of the dragon's fate. "Dir ko maar, Milmurnir. Zu'u hin daan!" Die in terror, Milmurnir. I am your doom.

Then, the blizzard around her condensed into another spear, the ice hardened by draconic scales upon her touch. She caught it in both hands, turned her gaze towards the dragon, and held her stance. She inhaled a breath, gathered her soul into her voice, and the energy and knowledge of the dragons she had slain flooded into her mighty Thu'um with a power to rival the sun.

Maybe much later, if the world should survive the battle that had just commenced between two beasts, songs would be written about this glorious day.

"FUS RO DAH!"

When her shout echoed over the burning city, mankind knew that the Dragonborn had come.


A/N: Hi guys!

This chapter followed through Lucy's emotional journey from regret, grief and shock to the point where only rage is left. Lucy's character had been a bit tricky to write lately, because she's dissociating so heavily. From time to time, she barely knows who she is, where she's at, she's having gaps in her memory, she feels her thoughts aren't her own. The Lucy from chapter 54 is fully different from the version of her in the beginning of this chapter, because her mental health is in utter ruin. I just hope I have portrayed in an understandable way.

Here, Lucy followed Natsu's battle from the distance, and that affected her own battle as well. Lots of unexpected things happened and made it impossible for her to predict what would happen next, and that eventually led to her breaking down. Only when she witnessed the explosion in the Ratway and was sure that Natsu was gone, she was able to utilize "Dragon Force" in its full form. Yeah, I know it's bit of a cliche to get a powerup when you think your loved one is dead, but I wanted to write that trope here. "Dragon Force" is actually "Dragon Aspect" from Skyrim, but I've altered it a bit to fit better into this story.

What did you think of Grelod plot twist btw? ... also, what about a plot twist of a plot twist... what if Constance killed Grelod? Guess we'll never know...

This chapter took a bit longer to write for a couple of reasons. I've been writing a massive amount of notes in my notebook about creation lore of Elder Scrolls, made loooot of changes into it, written about the primordial forces, dragon race, laws of Nords and everything that I've pretty much ignored in the world building so far. Thinking these things out has been very, very helpful, and I've got many new perspectives to the story. I'm excited to share them!

So, the next part of this chapter will conclude the dragon battle in Riften. That shall be told in Natsu's perspective, and I hope I'll write that a bit faster than this one. Natsu's POV is easier for me to handle because he's mentally more stable, lol.

Thank you for all the amazing feedback! I read every review and truly appreciate them!