so sorry for the short chapter beforehand! it was a filler & I'm just returning to writing. hope this is okay.


Dusk was approaching rapidly and the shadows the sun cast licked at their backs as they pushed on into the mountains. Swiftfoot kept up a steady canter, sheens of sweat striped his neck and his flank but he had yet to falter or tire beneath the pair. Their mysterious companion was still following and every now and then he would fall so far behind Ollric thought they had lost him, until he would reappear just around the last bend. He was almost sure the rider was another Blade, sent by Delphine to intervene on an unwanted relationship with their dreaded enemy.

He could recall the day Esbern and she had pulled him aside, backed him into a corner and demanded he slay Paarthunax in cold blood. Ollric had killed many a foe in cold blood, crept through shrouds of darkness and slit their throats with no honour or pride. Even a few innocents had met the cruel edge of his sword with no mercy. But at the thought of murdering Paarthunax, whom he now considered almost kin, had made ice run through his veins. His chest had brewed with flame and his eyes darkened, he had left Sky Haven Temple in a cloud of rage. The betrayal of those closest to him was not a new feeling. He would never return.

A different shadow swept over them, there and gone in a second, and dragged Ollric from the depths of his thoughts. His eyes scanned the skies above them but he saw nothing except the last remaining tufts of clouds strewn against a bleeding sky. Before him, the girl stiffened and shifted uncomfortably.

'What is it?' He asked.

'Vuljotnaak.' Her reply was forced out of a dry mouth, her whole body electrified with a mix of fear and rage.

A deafening roar shook the very ground they rode upon and the trees around them trembled and twisted as the shadow swooped ever close to the ground. The smell of fire and ash was rank in the air and Swiftfoot screamed in fear, his eyes rolling as he slid to a halt. The horse reared, pawing the air with his hooves. The girl gave a cry and whether she fell or jumped, Ollric wasn't sure, but he saw her land heavily onto the forest floor and scrambled in the undergrowth. He rushed to a get a hold of the reins, desperately trying to kick the horse on but the beast was too stubborn in his fear. Any remaining light from the dying sun was suddenly blocked and their world fell into darkness. The heavy beating of wings boomed from above them and Ollric jerked Swiftfoot's head sideways and urged the horse away but he just stumbled blindly.

'Fo Krah Diin!'

A breath colder than death itself gushed down upon them from the sky. The trees, the bushes, froze where they grew in a glittering white that could have almost been beautiful. Swiftfoot gave one last shriek as he came crashing down on top of the Dragonborn. Ollric crawled out from underneath the animal who lay frozen in his last moments but he had no time to mourn the death of his steed and he rolled sideways behind a cluster of rocks, unslinging his bow as he turned.

Vuljotnaak was circling low atop the trees his cold eyes forever searching and he moved away slightly from the scene. Ollric was up and sprinting after him, his own keen gaze looking for his dragon but the girl had disappeared. The forest fell into a shocked silence for a few seconds as if the land itself was reeling from this unexpected onslaught. This quiet was soon broken by the sound of Vuljotnaak as he landed on the edge of a cliff overlooking a valley below. Ollric broke through the treeline to see the great dragon approaching a figure who stood just on the lip of the rock. Her cloak had been pulled back and her hair streamed out behind her like a banner. Her gaze was fierce as she stared up at the dragon.

A fell voice poured from his jaws. 'So, it is true.' Vuljotnaak spoke slowly. 'Maldinokdur mah alok. [Maldinokdur has risen.] Krosis. Nu ni gein prodah.' [Unfortunately, not as one expects.]

A look of doubt crossed her features. 'Zeymah,hi los tiiraaz.' [Brother, you seem unhappy.]

Vuljotnaak roared and snapped his jaws. 'Mu los ni fron.' [We are not kin.] His heavy head swung round and he narrowed his eyes as Ollric stepped out from the forest, an arrow strung ready in his bow. 'You travel with the Dovahkiin.' His voice was jarring when he spoke in the common tongue of Tamriel. 'I expect no less, from a traitor.'

The girl's eyes widened in shock, her gaze darting fearfully to the Dragonborn. He could see her trembling from where he stood. Vuljotnaak unfurled his wings, raising himself up to his full height. Ollric kept his bow trained on the dragon but it seemed this fight was over.

'There is no honour in killing in this weak form,' the dragon said and he began to beat his huge wings. 'But our master will not wait long.'

Ollric didn't lower his bow until Vuljotnaak was just a speck in the distance and when he turned to the girl, she had fallen to her knees. He stepped slowly to her side, eyeing her carefully. It seemed this new mystery had just taken a surprising twist, one he had been expecting deep down in his heart. There had been something strange about the way she had been trapped beneath the ice, no proper burial, no resurrection from Alduin himself. Ollric had thought he had known most of the secrets and mysteries that surrounded the dragons and their return. He had read countless books on each and every one that had been present by Alduin's side yet there was no mention of this one standing right in front of him.

'Come on.' He said eventually when she didn't move. 'No doubt your friend has gone to tell Alduin of your glorious return.' Despite himself, he still couldn't help the scathing tone that poisoned his words at the sight of her. 'Horse is dead. We will have to walk.'

She didn't reply, didn't move. He sighed and glanced around them. The forest was silent, the sky was a deep blue now and the only light shone from the colours that streaked across it. 'It seems he scared off our new companion.' He murmured.

It was true. The rider who hadn't let them out of their sight for the past few hours had all but disappeared into thin air. He reached down and grabbed her by her arm, hauling her to her feet.

'We're not far from Ivarstead. We'll be there in a couple of hours.'


The lights of the town glittering across the river were a welcoming sight to the pair as they trudged wearily through the open gates. They hadn't spoken the rest of the journey there and Ollric welcomed the silence. He was so used to travelling and adventuring, so to speak, by himself that having to constantly worry and think about another being was draining to him. Also, he was still a bit sore about poor Swiftfoot – the horse had been a loyal and reliable steed to him and it would take him a while to find one as similar. Luckily the rest of the journey had been fairly peaceful, barring a couple of giant spiders which he had easily taken care of. The dragon had just stood by and watched, that dazed look still apparent on her pale face. Ollric had hacked the legs from the spiders long after they were dead.

Vilemyr Inn was a busy little place even at the late hour. Almost all the rooms were taken and most of the tables housed pilgrims, drinking and eating together as they discussed the best way to High Hrothgar. Ollric welcomed the lack of looks his companion and he received as he was shown to the last remaining room. Any sort of person came through Ivarstead and made the journey, so a Nord and a cloaked girl wasn't such an unusual sight.

He sat the dragon down in a chair and threw his own cloak and cowl onto the table, running a hand through his tousled hair. His face was wrack with tiredness, his eyes sunken in and his mouth downturned into a frown.

'Have you gone mute?' He said finally when he returned from the bar with bread and cheese, to find her still sitting in the exact same position.

She didn't reply for a moment and then her wide, blue eyes were turned upon him for the first time that day. They were filled with tears. 'I betrayed Alduin?' It was more of a statement than a question. A fat tear spilled over her lashes and rolled down her cheek. It dropped onto her open palm. She gasped. 'What is this water?'

'They are tears.' Ollric replied and then glanced quickly sideways. He cleared his throat and rubbed his jaw. 'You're angry with yourself?'

'Geh!' [Yes!] The voice he heard was almost a growl, hard and guttural. 'How could I have bretayed my own kind? How could I have done that and not remember.' Her voice cracked.

Ollric's expression softened. 'Sometimes we do things we don't think are right but they are, and we know we have to, even if we ourselves don't agree.' He was speaking from experience but she didn't have to know that.

Her eyes flickered and met his. That look, for one moment, seemed like a look of realisation and the Nord held it for one moment, they saw their whole worlds in each other's eyes before he had to look away. He leant down and pulled his boots of.

'It's late. We should get some sleep. The road to High Hrothgar isn't short and it isn't easy.'

She smirked. It was the first sort of smile she had given since Whiterun. 'Hard even for the legendary Dovahkiin.'

'Easy if I didn't have a child unsure of her own legs in tow.'

'I could take us there in a second if you gave me my wings back.' She snapped back just as quick.

Ollric snorted. 'If you had your wings we wouldn't be here.'

'Where would we be, Dovahkiin?'

A hush fell over the room and Ollric found he couldn't reply. They both knew if she had remained a dragon she would be dead, her soul eaten, and her memory forgotten.