Truly sorry about the nearly year long delay. Life really kicked me in the butt and mixed with writer's block for what would have been this chapter, I basically gave up. (I haven't even finished Alduin's Bane on Skyrim) But I decided to skip the meeting of Alduin to throw in this "memory" piece instead. Still working on the next chapter, and after that things should be smooth sailing. We'll see if I can handle it, I'll certainly try! Consider this a means of saying "Hey, I'm alive! And I haven't forgotten!" Ch. 4 has been split into 2 parts (it was uber long). Ch. 5 will have Alduin exclusively, but you'll find he's as much a part of Ch. 4. :P (Can you tell I'm trying to placate you?)

Daybreak

I've always been the tower,
But now I feel like I'm the flower trying to bloom in the snow.
The danger and the power.
Friend and the foe.

She was lost in darkness. Just floating, weightless, through the Void. She could not see nor feel. There was no light, no air, nothing. She was lost in a plane outside the possible. There was no sense of time, no sense of tangibility.

She thought she was moving, but there was nothing to move, nothing to touch or gain traction on. She couldn't hear her heartbeat, couldn't hear the Dragonblood coursing through her veins. She didn't exist.

But then, the world yawned, awakening. A loud, low whoosh purred in her ears, like the sea in a conch shell. She felt the wind caress her skin, felt hair tickle her ears and neck. She was still floating, but there was now form and so she stretched her arms and dipped her legs, swimming in the black.

Then there was a growl, a deep, clear roar that pierced the waves in her ears. Then there was the crinkling, the crackling and popping and hissing. Then there was heat. Hot, burning heat crept across her skin, singed her hair and chapped her lips, like she was basking in the Sun's very flames, still millions of miles away but suddenly so close.

There was light, bright, blinding, golden light that split the darkness, tore a roar from its halved form. Fire rose from the cracks, licking the black away. She screamed, but it was wordless and silent as she flung her arms back, fought to escape the heat, to shield her eyes from the burst. There was still no world, no ground to run across and so she stayed suspended in the ever dying pool of darkness, clinging to its cool, soft depth.

And then, there was him.

A new black fought through the flames, but this had no soft edges, did not pool gently in the corners. It was not formless. It was thorny, spiked, like a rose's twisted stem. It was huge and hard and scaled and frightening. It was her first vision of him as he stuck his head through the tower's gaping hole, as he struck forward like a cobra hoping to bite, to poison, to devour. The dust from the fallen stones stung her eyes like sand in a desert storm, but she peered up as he caught her eye.

She turned cold, heavy, and stayed motionless on the stairs where she had tumbled down when the wall collapsed. She felt no fear, no shock, just a cold, heavy dread that froze her and left her speechless. The adrenaline had been knocked from her, and time slowed as Dragon and Dragonborn met gazes. She could vaguely hear Ralof, screaming run, run, run but she could not obey. She was fixated here, pinned by a monster's brilliant orange eyes. The dragon was destroying the village, lighting buildings on fire and snapping his drooling maw upon the soft forms of Stormcloaks and Legionaires, prisoners, hunters, bakers, dressmakers. He slaughtered old heroes and fresh widows and innocent children and guilty fathers just trying to get by. He didn't care for the lives he took, the ones he destroyed. They were merely ants, pesky vermin to be annihilated or trained for his perfection, his world.

But he was not breathing fire, was not ripping her flesh apart with his bloodstained fangs. He just stared, wings slowly beating, with sharp, thick claws embedded in the stone. It was no more than a moment, a few seconds, but his arrogant glare penetrated her, as though he was examining her. She suddenly felt so lesser, so tiny and insignificant. She began to feel her heart thrum wildly, her blood rushed in her ears as it never had before. Her skin tingled and she felt drawn to him, pulled towards the dragon. A heat grew in her chest, her belly, and flowed under her skin, through her veins. The feeling was ethereal, like she was out of her body. She was suddenly aware, for the first time, of the force of her soul, like it was an entity within her body, but beyond it. And he was here to behold her inner discovery, though she did not know yet what she had stumbled upon.

But he knew. And she saw the understanding.

An arrow whizzed through the smoke, dug itself into his wing. He made no noise, no roars of anger or pain. His clutch on the wall didn't lessen, even as blood poured over his scaly grip. But nor did his gaze, still hot and burning. His eyes themselves seemed to crackle with the raw energy of fire.

Another arrow was knocked from some archer's bow. Certainly a different fool, for they both struck within mere moments. It whizzed against the stone by the dragon's arched neck, ricocheted and whistled off into the sky. He regarded her a final time; with a steely glance, the threads were broken. She watched as he disappeared from the gaping hole in the cobbled wall, but there was a new rift, a split in her mind that left only muddled confusion and fear in its wake. She stayed staring into the soft blue of the sky, watched as clouds of dark, acrid smoke choked birds and snuffed out trees.

But then she heard his roar, felt it as the stones beside her jittered in panic. It finally released her.

She was free. Free to run and hide, heart racing, cheeks wet and stinging. Free to stumble up the winding stairs like a beaten dog. She did not know where she ran, did not remember. She just tore through the flames and crumbling towers, leaped over charred bodies and melted livestock. She barely escaped, somehow. But she could not forget the dragon's penetrating stare, or the sense that she had not survived from luck alone.

And she had not questioned it then, the proper roles of predator and prey. She was weak while he was strong. She was small, but his ebony wings separated earth from sky, desperate mortals from their gods. It did not matter; the world had been abandoned to Alduin long ago. Not even they could end the end of days, despite the petty attempts to buy time.

She had known then, in Helgen's falling tower, that she had been spared. Shown mercy, though she knew not the reasons. After all, he was dragon. She was merely human.

But not anymore.