Thanks for all of the feedback! The reviews, favorites, and story alerts are very encouraging. The reviews especially help progress the story.
This chapter is a boring bummer, just a filler really. Consider it a loading screen. Haha. I wrote the last chapters first, and I'm still working on making connecting scenes. I just wanted you to know I was still working on the story. Normally I toss 90% of what I write, but this idea won't leave me alone.
Because the ending is complete, I can't change the plot too much, but if you have any ideas of something you'd like to see, I'll try to fit it in. I need a few more scenes anyways.
Biggest problem right now is whether to leave Alduin's "attentions" completely unrequited. They may be a pair, but he doesn't love her and she won't love him. Maybe in the next one. ;)
Upped the rating to M for later chapters.

Depart

Dig me out from this thorn tree,
Help me bury my shame.
Keep my eyes from the fire,
They can't handle the flame.

It was cold when she awoke. Sunlight was trickling through the bare trees, but provided little comfort. The ocean wind was rising through the mountains, stirring the snow into tiny waves of white. The wagon lurched and rattled as it was dragged through the deep canvas. Furs prickled her skin and back, which was not broken but very sore. The fur was rough and tangled, and tiny strands stabbed into cuts and raw skin, irritating her already worn body.

She was tightly bound. A woven cloth was stuffed between her chapped lips, stretching and tearing them at the corners. The gag prickled with magic. She knew not what kind, having only learned basic restoration and ward spells, but she knew it was meant to block the Thu'um. Her chest and throat felt empty, as though the cloth was clogged deep in her neck, as though the magic was draining her soul right from her core. She felt off. It was like she had no center, no balance. Still, she tried to move.

Iron manacles dangled from her arms, and the broken bones in her left wrist screamed when she shifted to sit up. Her heart stopped. A Draugr suddenly came around the cart, bent over it and peered at her with glazed eyes. How fitting that after years of undeath, the Draugr would immediately return to serving their filthy dragon masters. The metal links of the chain clinked as he lifted the lead. And jerked. Her stomach lurched and she fell to her knees, sending the wagon tumbling. Her wrist cracked and bile stung her raw throat. She briefly wondered if she would suffocate on her own bile and saliva. It was debilitating, the pain, but the walking corpse felt no remorse. A paralyzing ice snuck up her arm and crushed her lungs. She tried to tap into her petty supply of magic, but that too was disconnected. So she suffered. She wanted it to end, but nothing would make her beg or serve. She would never surrender her humanity.

When her captor went to pull the chain again, she rose, shakily, to her feet despite the protest in her knees. She still felt so weak. Why was she alive? She didn't understand, nor want, this mercy.

The snow was falling softly, but even the tingle of tiny flakes stung her cuts and chilled her skin. Her armor was gone, though she knew most had been destroyed in the battle. Ragged furs provided little help, and still scratched against her wounds, but she was thankful to be wearing a pair of worn boots. Frostbite was a true danger, even to a Nord.

Jagged outcrops of icy rocks sprung from the ground on either side of the procession. She turned as they began to climb a particularly steep slope of the mountain, and saw several dozen Draugr dragging and marching behind the wooden cart. There were no other humans. But more importantly, there were no dragons.

They walked onward for several hours, until they were close to sea level and proceeding across warm, fallen leaves. It was already Autumn, Sun's Dusk. Where had she lost so much time?

They stopped only to kill trolls or sabre cats. The wolves dared not attack such a large group of undead. They didn't have enough meat between them to worth the certainty of death.

When night began to fall, Draugr and Dragonborn made camp. The fire was warm, but she was forced to sit uncomfortably close to the flames, and the small burn on her shoulder and chest began to sizzle again from the heat. Those around her cared not and did nothing. Only one pallet was laid out, and after a few bites of overcooked rabbit, she was forced to lay in it. The chain was removed, but the handcuffs stayed trapping her hands together. She tried to study the Draugr as they stood around the camp fire, then gazed at the lights dancing softly across the dark canvas. She found little comfort. Such beauty was deceptive.

The following day, after a few more miles of brisk traveling, the female Draugr now guiding her stopped beside a leafy tree. She heard the crinkling as the other soldiers inched forward across the autumn leaves, but all stopped just behind the wood cart. None moved, though she didn't understand why. There were no threats nearby, no cities or mills or even caves. Just an empty forest.

But then, she heard it. A great roar pierced the quiet air.

Instinctively, her muscles tensed, her eyes dilated. The blood in her veins whooshed and buzzed, excited. She could sense him and she felt her soul swell and tingle, pushing against her form like a magnet pulling towards metal. She tried to remember where she'd placed her mace and sword. Both, she recalled, were lost, broken by Alduin's thick skin, leaving her naked and defenseless. And her will was crumbling too, after only a few days as captive and none as Alduin's slave. The physical strain, the silence, the disregard, the cold, compassionless glares were growing too much.

The blood dragon landed, slapping his thick tail against the ground. The world trembled. Dust and debris flew wildly as the land caved into a deep crater. The crest on his head fanned and flared as though he was impatient. "Aar, take the captive directly to Lord Alduin. Nu. And clean her up." He flew without a glance in her direction, and the lead Draugr roared to quicken their trek.

She pondered his skin, the way his scales shined green in the sunlight. He was different, the color of life. Not death. Alduin glittered black as coal, melting into the darkness, the perfect umbrae. All of Alduin was perfect, molded in Akatosh's image, like black steel set to harsh angles and long thorns. He was destined to bring the end and the beginning. But was he perfect, this monster, this ravager, Destroyer of all? Was he as he was meant to be if he had yet to devour the world, instead enslaving it, molding it to his will? Or was this his right, as First Born, to do as he wished before he fulfilled his purpose, like the spider that first ensnares the tattered moth? Or was his destiny a lie, as hers had been? Prophecies were now just possibilities, not promises.

She followed the dragon's swift form through the clouds and watched as he approached a village in the distance. A second glance, and no, the "village" was not some set of hobbles sheltered at the base of a mountain, one she recognized was just north of Fellglow Keep. She could see smoke still dancing atop the burnt forest that had once cradled the valley. Huge, dark stones were rising from the horizon, towards the sky where red banners waved. Dragons soared above the black constructs. The world was already being changed, reshaped. And she had no doubt that the mortals were being put to the task of tearing and rebuilding this new world. It was not a village, but a kingdom.

Alduin's Kingdom. How ironic for the Bane of Kings.

At her first opportunity, she would burn it to the ground.