Riled up for nothing, she said; he would personally kick the Dragonborn's ass for saying that even if they both died in the coming fight. All her complaining about overly preparing, and look where it got them! Dragon after dragon poured into the city, flying over and around Dragonsreach, some just stopping to spit fire or frost over the Porch. Ulfric and Lydia ducked behind the wall to keep out of the spray. Ulfric pulled his shield over the Dragonborn. Her breathing hadn't let up, even after Lydia forced half a potion down her throat.
"Hold steady!" Balgruuf yelled over the chaos.
"Kolos hii, Dovahkiin?" (Where are you, Dovahkiin?") Odahviing taunted, creeping up to the edge of the roof so that Ulfric could only see his head and neck towering over the palace, carefully out of range of the archers. Gods, he was massive.
Huge golden eyes scanned the balcony, landing on the trio hiding behind the wall. Ulfric could've sworn Odahviing chuckled as he stood, fists clenched, sword drawn. "Fus, ro dah!"
Ulfric liked to think he did Kynareth proud with that Shout. Odahviing was flung back out of sight. A loud crash sounded even over the multitude of roars coming from all directions. Ulfric flung Lydia's shield away and helped her hoist up the Dragonborn and pull her inside the balcony. Farengar rushed over, two scrolls already out, nearly falling over as Dragonsreach shook with Odahviing's roar.
"Hin Thu'um nid ronit dii!" (Your Thu'um is no match for mine!) He soared back into view, hovering over the balcony. "Fus, ro DAH!"
Ulfric's feet disappeared beneath him and he hit the ground hard, his armor scraping against the old stones before finally catching. An arrow flew from behind him and caught Odahviing in the neck, more pierced through his wings from the archers on the promenade; they hadn't been caught in the Shout. Odahviing didn't flinch otherwise.
He pushed himself up, thanking the gods he had kept a hold of his sword, and ran forwards. Ulfric had been pushed past the great chains.
Odahviing landed on the balcony wall, ignoring arrow after arrow that either bounced off his face or punctured a wing.
Kriivaalneh, Yahgrahviin, krii joor fah zu'u. Daar Dovahkiin balaan nid tiidi." (Kriivaalneh, Yahgrahviin, kill the mortals for me. This Dovahkiin is hardly worth my time.) He chuckled and few off just as Ulfric reached him. Ulfric swung his sword and connected with nothing but air.
"Fus, ro dah!" Ulfric Shouted again, barely catching Odahviing in his tail. Still, it stumbled him in flight enough for more arrows to pierce through his wings.
Two dragons, gold and bronze scales almost blinding in the late morning sun, took his place as Odahviing flew out of sight over Whiterun. They circled once, twice, deftly dodging most arrows aimed their way with dexterity the larger dragon lacked. Ulfric backed up one step at a time, never dropping his guard, until he stood just outside of the roof. Balgruuf and Irileth stood just barely behind him. "I hope you have a plan," Balgruuf said, his helmet missing, his battlehorn crushed at his waist. All good humor that painted his face a few minutes ago had been replaced with deep worry.
"Survive," Ulfric answered.
"Awfully simple plan," Lydia called as she approached, sword out as the arrows in her quiver were bent and broken. "She's barely breathing. Farengar's doing his best."
"'He'll come alone' she said. Bah!" Balgruuf spat. "Farengar! Leave her and defend Whiterun!"
"We have to force them to land," Irileth muttered. She spat out blood that had dripped from her nose. "Archers! Don't waste a single arrow! The wings only!" Arrows pelted through the dragons' wings, holes leaving dots of sunlight that danced over the stones as the dragons flew over almost lazily, some catching on the thicker skin and scales.
Ulfric followed the dragons, mapping the pattern they flew in. The dragons wove loops between themselves in a dance, not even stopping to hover as they Shouted flames with little care to aim, ignoring the spells Farengar ducked out to launch at them. Even though their Shouts barely grazed the outer wall, it was enough to make him wary of stepping out onto the balcony proper, and with Odahviing nowhere in sight there was no telling what else the dragon had up his sleeve. A distraction? Had he figured out the trap? No time to linger on it. Ulfric steeled himself until the dragons lined up together, took a deep breath, and Shouted. "Fus, ro dah!"
It worked better than Ulfric expected; the front dragon crashed into the second, taking them both down with an awful crunch as they landed in the plains. He rushed forwards, grabbing Lydia's shield and donning it as he looked over the balcony. He hoped she wouldn't mind him borrowing it. "Gods," Farengar muttered, leaning far over the wall to get a good look. "How much do you think a dragon weighs?" The dragon unlucky enough to be under the other had been flattened. It's torso split open, spilling its blood in a wide splatter around the two.
The second dragon recovered and rolled over to stand, the other dragon's ribs having pierced its back and pulling away from the corpse with a sickening squelch loud enough to make Ulfric cringe even hundreds of feet up. Its wings hung limp at its sides, exposed bone shone where small bones had snapped through and skin had been torn away. The dragon roared and lunged for the balcony. It grabbed on with its wings, talons sinking into stone and sending crushed rock tumbling down. Farengar yelped and sent lightning down at the dragon. It twitched as the sparks danced over its body, but awkwardly climbed the wall with startling speed.
Ulfric jumped back from the wall and raised his sword. "Attack its stomach!" He yelled, the dragon slinking over the wall and snapping at him. Ulfric sliced at its face and jumped out of the way just in time as hot flames poured from its mouth. Ice gathered around the dragon's claws, freezing them to the ground and distracting it enough for Balgruuf to run forwards, plunging his sword deep into its belly.
"Fus!" The dragon shouted at the Jarl. Balgruuf stumbled back, releasing his sword as he fell. He scrambled away as the dragon turned to face him. Ulfric attacked its neck, thick scales protecting it so that even a Daedric sword left nothing but scratches. The dragon opened its mouth again, "Yol, toor sh-AGH!" Irileth shot an arrow straight down its throat before it had time to finish the Shout. The dragon coughed, turning fast back to Ulfric and slamming him with its giant head with just enough warning that Ulfric had time to block with Lydia's shield.
He hit the ground hard, rolling through and jumping up onto one knee. Lydia ran towards him. "Shield!" she ordered, fast approaching. Ulfric ripped the leather straps from his arm and barely raised it in her direction when she sprinted past, pulling it from his grip. She didn't slow as she held the shield in front of her and ran straight into the dragon's wing, sword trailing just behind her. A loud pop and screech of pain sounded as its entire wing pulled away from its body, and Lydia sliced through its joint.
The few guards on the Porch surrounded the dragon, stabbing and slicing at its soft stomach. Ulfric stood and stabbed through its eyes, dodging bites between every lunge. One guard wasn't so lucky, a stray kick sent him falling back into the path of the dragon's flailing tail, slamming into the wall and falling in a still heap. And then, finally, after what seemed like eternity of blood pouring and pooling at his feet, the dragon finally fell limp.
And then it burst into an array of colors, skin and scales dissolving into an aura that rivaled the winter sky. Its soul ran in a river to the Dragonborn, barely propped up by one of the grand columns holding the roof. She gasped and her eyes flew open. Lydia ran to her side and helped her stand; as soon as she was on two feet, the Dragonborn pushed her Housecarl away. "You've got some nerve!" Balgruuf shouted at her. He rubbed his side, wincing.
The Dragonborn blinked. "What do you mean?" She wobbled where she stood, taking deep breaths. "Did Odahviing come?"
"'One dragon', huh?"
"More like a hundred!" An archer yelled from the promenade. "My Jarl! Permission to defend the city proper?"
"Permission granted, all of you," Balgruuf growled. "Go! Gods help us if the wards aren't holding." The guards hurried from the porch, more than one chugging their potion of fire resistance as they did.
"What in Oblivion did she mean by a hundred dragons?" The Dragonborn asked. She stalked to the balcony and scanned the sky. "Where's Odahviing? What's that sound?"
"'That sound' is what dozens of dragons razing Whiterun sounds like," Irileth snarled. "My Jarl, the tunnels, now."
"I'm not abandoning my people."
"There may not be people to abandon-"
"Where's Odahviing?" The Dragonborn repeated. A small thread of colorful fog slid over the balcony wall and towards the Dragonborn. From the second dragon, Ulfric thought.
"He sent two dragons to deal with you," Ulfric replied. "He said your Thu'um wasn't worthy of a battle with him." She didn't need to know that the insult was directed at his Voice, not hers. Besides, the fire growing behind her eyes was fanned by his brief summary. She ripped her potion of fire resistance from her side and took the entire bottle like a shot of cheap alcohol, shuddering as the effect rolled through her.
She scowled, glowered, fumed, turned and Shouted, "ODAHVIING!" And, for a brief minute, all the roars and Shouts from the city quieted as the Dragonborn's challenge rang through Nirn once more.
"DOVAHKIIN!" Came the answer a second before Odahviing flew back into sight, hovering before them. He and the Dragonborn had a staredown as the world stood still around them.
"Yol, toor shul!" Both shouted at the same instance, their Voices bouncing and harmonizing off one another in a strange, deadly duet. The Dragonborn was engulfed in flames, completely disappearing in white-hot fire. Irileth raised her bow, arrow nocked and drawn, but didn't release it. Ulfric stood in awe as the Dragonborn came back into view, armor blackened and yet she was still staring down the massive dragon.
"Hi los ni sahlo pah, Dovahkiin. Orin balaan do viir naal dii haal." (You are not so weak, Dovahkiin. Perhaps you are worthy of dying by my hand.)
"I don't even know what that means!" The Dragonborn replied, raising her hand. A long icicle formed and sped towards Odahviing. He didn't break from his hover in time and the icy spear ripped through his side, leaving a long trail of flesh exposed. She coughed once. It seemed she'd finished absorbing the second soul; the shimmer trail was gone and she stood that much straighter.
Irileth adjusted her aim. Ulfric grabbed her bow just before she fired the arrow. She shot him a look. "Why would you-"
"Shh," Ulfric cut her off. Odahviing landed at the edge of the balcony. He approached one step at a time, dragging his talons in deep grooves in the stone. The Dragonborn took five steps back for each of Odahviing's strides to keep pace with him, keep him just barely out of biting range. "The chains!" Ulfric was afraid he whispered too quietly for the others to hear him, and then he was afraid he whispered far too loud when more flames erupted from Odahviing's mouth.
They ducked out of the way to either side, his and Balgruuf's metal armors clanging loudly against the floor. Ulfric made eye contract with Irileth on the other side of the Porch; they had to be ready at the chains if-when-the Dragonborn got Odahviing in position. "You sent away the guards too soon, great Jarl," Ulfric taunted, offering Balgruuf a hand up.
Balgruuf swatted it away and pushed up from his knees. "I don't need guards to work a wheel." He poked his head around a column. The Dragonborn was still standing there, not breaking eye contact with Odahviing. A ward dissipated around her. "What is she doing?"
Lunging for Odahviing, it seemed. The Dragonborn jumped sword-first, stabbing into the dragon's thick neck and used her momentum to swing up to stand on his neck. Odahviing swiped at her with his wing. "Wuld, nah!" A rune exploded with frost when Odahviing pawed at his neck where the Dragonborn once stood.
She slammed into the doors to Dragonsreach, landing with a thud on her hands and knees, quickly scrambling to stand. "Luring the beast," Ulfric answered, patting Balgruuf on the back and hurrying to the wheel on their side, Balgruuf trailing behind him.
"Alduin bovul. Hi bovul. Zu'u zok mul dov." (Alduin fled. You flee. I am the strongest of the dragons.) Odahviing's tail slammed against the outside walls as he stalked past the roof and into the Porch.
The Dragonborn looked down at her empty hands and then back to Odahviing, her sword sticking from his neck. Ulfric blanched, seeing the worry in her eyes even from yards away as she pressed herself back against the doors. Why wasn't she casting a spell, Shouting, running? "Nariilu!" Lydia yelled and ran to protect her Thane, throwing herself in front of the Dragonborn.
"Get out of here, Lydia!" The Dragonborn hissed, pushing her to the side. "This isn't your fight." Lydia stumbled but didn't fall, making a move towards her again, then hesitated and sighed in defeat, turning around to the back of the Porch. Odahviing approached further, a deep, gravely laugh sounding throughout the Porch. Ulfric gripped the spokes of the wheel, nodding at Irileth and Farengar across the way as they made room at their wheel for Lydia just before they disappeared behind Odahviing's body.
"Viik," Odahviing growled, dragging his body closer and closer. The Dragonborn threw up a shaky ward and crouched behind it, wincing. "Defeat. Tell me, Dovahkiin, how does it feel?"
"Joor, zah frul!" The Dragonborn Shouted, and Odahviing roared, saliva and blood flying from his maw. She stood up, dropping the ward. "Now!"
Ulfric pulled on the wheel with all his might, and the great chains shuddered and caught before they broke free and fell. The yoke dropped hard on the writhing dragon, pinning him by his neck and hips flush with the floor. "NIID!"
"Yes!" Balgruuf said, slapping the wheel. Ulfric released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
The Dragonborn approached Odahviing. He followed her with his eyes until she disappeared behind his head. He groaned when she pulled her sword out and wiped his blood off on his snout. "How does it feel?" She taunted.
Horvutah med kodaav," Odahviing replied. He strained against the harness, barely getting his chin a foot from the floor. "Caught like a bear in a trap."
"That was a little too easy, don't you think?" The Dragonborn asked, looking at Ulfric. Everyone kept clear of in front of the dragon, just in case.
"'Too easy'?" Ulfric repeated. "Have you forgotten Odahviing brought his army?"
"Ni lahvui, sahlo mun. Vahzah lahvui-" (Not an army, stupid Man. My true army would-)
"Nahlot," (Shut up,) Ulfric replied. As if he hadn't referred to it as an army in boast.
"What? Army?" The Dragonborn held her sword under Odahviing's chin. "Call them off."
"Hi boaan gein fod laan krifi," Odahviing said. "Ah, I forget. You…lack the dovah speech. You should have come alone if you desired a duel." He winced as a drop of blood slid down her sword.
"Alduin won't revive you."
"He will devour you."
"Jarl, how long did it take for Numinex to lose his mind?"
"Years," Balgruuf answered.
"Tiid nifaal fah dov. Time is meaningless to the dov."
"Joor, zah frul!" The Dragonborn Shouted again, sending Odahviing shuddering and whimpering. Ulfric quickly translated the Shout; mortal, finite, temporary. She'd used it before, but it didn't seem all that powerful going by the Words. All they had to do with was endings. Was it some death-causing Shout? "Call them off," She ordered again once Odahviing began to collect himself.
"Niid."
"Joor, zah frul!" It was almost painful to watch such a mighty dragon be all but reduced to tears. Ulfric wondered if dragons even could cry, and took Odahviing's lack thereof to mean they weren't capable of it. "I can do this until time gains meaning, Odahviing."
Oh. So that's what it was. She was forcing immortal dragons to face the consequences of time, age, death. It was like asking the moons to shine like the sun, a puddle to crash and churn like the ocean. To absolutely turn everything about a dragon's philosophy on its head, to destroy it so completely, it felt almost cruel.
"I am not defeated yet, Dovahkiin," Odahviing said, his voice strained. "I salute your low cunning in devising such a grahmindol-stratagem. You went to a great deal of trouble to put me in this…humiliating position."
The Dragonborn glanced at him and smiled. "Stormcloak, would you like to try Dragonrend? Looks like you've just figured its meaning for yourself."
He looked between her and Odahviing. The dragon was somehow wincing, each breath labored and simultaneously too slow and too fast. Ulfric shook his head. "I've not studied the Words."
"Suit yourself. Joor, zah frul!"
"Aaz!" Odahving moaned. "Bolog az! Hi viikiaan!" He twitched, not even having the strength to flail anymore. "I beg mercy! You've defeated me, please, nid, no more…" Odahviing rested his head against the ground. "I will order ru, retreat." He took enough time to catch his breath that the Dragonborn pressed her sword to his throat again. "Ru, pah dovah, fah mu fen lingrah sul!" (Retreat, dragons, for we must fight a different time!)
Almost instantly, dragons flew in formation northwards towards the mountains. They were eerily silent as they flew. "Jarl," the Dragonborn said, "you, Irileth, and Farengar go attend to your people. Stormcloak, Lydia, and I will be more than enough to help me finish up here. J'zargo, go help out there, too. Lydia, grab a magicka potion, if you wouldn't mind."
Right, she'd been half-dead when J'zargo was thrown into-Ulfric tried to figure where he would've fallen again, to no avail. He'd disappeared behind the wall too soon to get any real sense of angle. Nobody mentioned the Khajiit was likely lying crunched in a puddle of his own gore. He imagined she wouldn't take the news well. A cheer rose up from the city proper.
"I'd like to stay here and study the dragon, if that's alright with you, Jarl Balgruuf, Thane Therel," Farengar said. He turned to Odahviing without waiting for a response from either of them and added, "Uh…sir, you have no idea how long I've waited for such an opportunity!"
"Have some sense, boy," Balgruuf warned.
"I would be most appreciative if you would allow me to preform some…well, some tests on you," Farengar continued as if he hadn't heard Balgruuf speak. "Purely in the interests of advancing knowledge, of course."
"Begone, mage," Odahviing spat. Farengar made his way around Odahviing to the edge of his wing. "I yield to the Dovahkiin, not to you."
"I assure you, you won't even notice me. I imagine most of the tests will hardly be painful at all to such a large dragon." He drew his dagger.
"Farengar, this is a bad idea, even by your standards," Irileth snapped.
"Gods, if you want some blood he's bleeding here," the Dragonborn motioned to the slow drip of crimson from under Odahviing's chin with her sword.
"Excellent! I'll collect a few vials after I pry off a scale or two," Farengar poked his dagger under a scale.
"Joor mey!" Odahviing roared. "What are you doing?" He barely lifted his head and turned somewhat to his side. "Yol, toor shul!" The Shout just barely lapped at Farengar's robes and he jumped back with a screech.
"Joor!" The Dragonborn shouted. Odahviing's Shout was cut short.
"Farengar! Enough, fool!" Balgruuf scolded. "Leave us. Go check on the wards. I'm sure they have more valuable information than a simple scale. Irileth and I will be staying here." Farengar nodded and wasted no time running from the Porch.
The Dragonborn shrugged. "If you insist. Now, Odahviing, start talking or I'll Shout again."
Hind siiv Alduin, hmm?" Odahviing said. "No doubt you wish to know where to find Alduin, yes?"
"That's right. Where is he hiding?" She moved from his neck to in front of him, between Ulfric and Irileth.
""Rinik vazah. An apt phrase," Odahviing replied. "Alduin bovul. One reason I came to your call was to test your Thu'um for myself. Many of us have began to question Alduin's lordship, whether his Thu'um was truly the strongest. Among ourselves, of course. Mu ni meyye. None were yet ready to openly defy him."
"Cowards," the Dragonborn muttered under her breath. Odahviing seemed to hear and strained against the yoke. "Where can I find Alduin so I can be the one to defy him?"
"I digress. He has travelled to Sovngarde to regain his strength, devouring the sillesejoor... the souls of the mortal dead. A privilege he jealously guards…" Odahviing trailed off with a snarl.
"I know that! How do I get to Sovengarde without dying?" As if Shor would let a Dunmer into his Hall, even if she was Dragonborn.
"Drem saraan," Odahviing answered. "Patience. I digress. His door to Sovngarde is at Skuldalfn, one of his ancient fanes high in in the eastern mountains. Mindoraan, pah ok middovahhe lahvraan til. I surely do not need to warn you that all his remaining strength is marshalled there. Zu'u lost ofan hin laan... now that I have answered your question, you will allow me to go free?"
"Do you swear to serve me until your dying breath?" The Dragonborn asked.
"Aam? Serve you? No. Ni tiid. If and when you defeat Alduin, I will reconsider," Odahviing replied, shifting under the yoke. The Dragonborn frowned; for a second, Ulfric wondered if she was going to Shout at him again.
"Skuldalfn," Ulfric muttered. "It's an old city that shows up in so many old texts, from the Dragon War and before, but no one's been there since at least the Second Era."
"So, you think he's lying," Balgruuf clarified.
"No, you can see it from Windhelm on a clear day."
"Why hasn't anyone been there, then?" Irileth asked.
"There's no way to it. Not from Eastmarch, at least," Ulfric said. And he knew not for lack of trying. Some of his ancestors were buried there, according to old tales, and he'd been meaning to find out who for a while. Still, he was grateful its inaccessibility kept any graverobbers and adventurers-the two tended to be one in the same-out.
Odahviing laughed. "You have the Thu'um of a dovah, but without the wings of one, you will never set foot in Skuldafn. Of course, I could fly you there. But not while I am imprisoned like this." Odahviing pushed on his restraints for emphasis.
"We appear to be at an impasse, then," the Dragonborn hummed and pulled off her helmet, scrubbing at the ashen char on her face with one hand. There was a clear line on her cheeks where her helmet had protected her from Odahviing's breath where her skin turned from grey to black, but as the char fell it revealed no pink beneath. No burn. Or, maybe there was, Ulfric supposed. He imagined dark elves didn't burn like a Nord.
"Indeed. Orin brit ro. I cannot leave here until you defeat Alduin, which you cannot do without my help."
"Do you honestly expect me to trust you?"
"Ahraan. You wound me, Dovahkiin. I may not tell the whole truth, but I am no liar. Go and see for yourself. Zu'u ni bo nol het. I will be here...unless Alduin returns before you do." Odahviing snickered, lowered his head and closed his eyes.
She turned from Odahviing and motioned for them to follow her to just behind the promenade stairs. "Stormcloak, you're absolutely sure Skuldalfn is inaccessible? What about from the Morrowind side?"
Irileth snorted. "No one in their right mind would try and cross the Velothi Mountains."
"Am I the only one a bit held up on this 'portal to Sovngarde' nonsense?" Lydia asked.
"Not at all," Ulfric admitted. "I've never heard anything about it." Further, he imagined that such a portal would be held as sacred, and not just lost to some avalanche or whatever cut Skuldalfn off from the rest of Skyrim.
"That doesn't mean it doesn't exist," the Dragonborn argued. "Do we even have a better choice at this point? We know Alduin's in Sovngarde, eating souls like sweets, getting stronger every second until he can devour the world."
"It's probably a trap," Balgruuf said. "He's lying. He probably sent his army away from here and to Morthal, gods be with them."
"Dragons don't lie," Ulfric countered. "They've too much honor. Everything he's said has been true." Except for his threats, but Ulfric supposed it was a natural inclination for everyone to exaggerate with those.
"We're placing the fate of the world on the word of a dragon," Irileth said. "Wonderful. I feel so at ease."
"I could do without your blazing confidence," the Dragonborn grumbled. "If it's the only way then it's the only way. Stormcloak, I suppose you can come with me to Sovngarde, assuming Odahviing is telling the truth." She pulled her helmet back on. "Lydia, you too, if you choose. But I'm not going to make you."
Ulfric frowned. "Let me get this straight. Assuming that there is a portal to Sovngarde in Skuldalfn, you want to fly there, halfway across Skyrim, on the back of a dragon. Then, you want to fight Alduin, where he could fly away any time and strengthen himself with a few souls."
"Well, not any time since I could Shout him down, but it sounds outlandish if you say it like that-"
"And we have no way of knowing if there even is a way back," Ulfric continued. "A journey to Sovngarde is, generally speaking, a one-way trip, seeing as one has to be dead to get in in the first place." That alone ruined every single one of her ambitious plans, and it ruined his chances of not being taken prisoner by the Thalmor the second they laid eyes on his treasonous, Talos-worshipping self. "Besides, how is a dark elf going to get in at all?"
"As much as I hate to admit it, Ulfric does have a point," Balgruuf said. In different circumstances, Ulfric would've been smug at getting his hardheaded approval.
Nariilu stared at Ulfric as if he was stupid. "My grandfather was a Nord."
What?
"Oh, I always thought you were part Imperial," Irileth said, almost flippantly.
"What, because I'm from Cyrodiil?"
"When have you even seen a competent Nord mage?"
"Farengar was just here-"
"What do you mean you're part Nord?" Ulfric asked. He thought back over their interactions to anything that would point to…to…well, being a Nord, in any degree. She wasn't a half-bad smith, but she shivered like a rabid dog in the cold. And he couldn't discount the Amulet of Talos hanging freely over her armor, but that wouldn't've been a sign of anything of note thirty years ago. Well, if anything, her blood explained her status as Dragonborn well enough.
Suddenly, there was a lot more legitimacy to her use of the Old Laws.
"You didn't know? I thought it was obvious," the Dragonborn replied.
"I didn't know!" Lydia spoke up.
"It is obvious!" Irileth argued. "I suppose it shows how much Men know of Elves." Ulfric could've sworn she punctuated her sentence with a glance towards him.
"Is it really the time to discuss the Dragonborn's ancestry?" Balgruuf snapped. "There is a dragon in my palace!"
"Excellent point," the Dragonborn said, annoyed. "As for getting back from Sovngarde, I'm sure we'll figure something out. We're going in body, not just in soul. It'll be different than if we were already dead."
"Oh, wonderful plan, 'we'll figure something out'," Ulfric said.
"If you have anything better in mind we'd all love to hear it," the Dragonborn retorted. "Since when do you not want to spend eternity in Sovngarde?" Ulfric opened his mouth and then shut it. "That's what I thought. Alright, last chance to speak before I get this dragon to fly me to Sovngarde." No one said anything. "It's settled, then. Lydia, do you want to go or not?"
"I don't," Lydia replied almost instantly. She looked down as soon as the words left her mouth.
"No shame in claiming your life as your own. Take care of Breezehome in my absence." She broke from the group and walked over to the resting Odahviing. "I'm still wondering if I can trust you," the Dragonborn said.
"Zu'u ni tahrodiis. I am no trickster. It was you that lured me here and took me prisoner... vobalaan grahmindol…with your underhanded tactics." Odahviing replied without opening his eyes. "I have done nothing to earn your distrust."
"You brought an army."
"That small force is but a fraction of the army I command. More than enough to occupy the soldiers you gathered." Odahviing pushed himself up as much as he could. "Regardless, a dovah is only as good as his Word. I hope you find I am one of the stronger dovah you have faced."
The Dragonborn sighed. "If you promise to take my companion and I to Skuldalfn, I'll set you free."
Odahviing looked each of them up and down. "Nid. I will only carry you, Dovahkiin."
"Oh?" Balgruuf asked, crossing his arms in jest. "Not strong enough, eh?"
"Do not test my patience, joor. Only the dovah may approach Skuldalfn without alerting Alduin's middovahhe, his loyal guard."
The Dragonborn squeezed her fists. "Stormcloak, I'll be taking my sword back now. Lydia, give him a spare ebony one. I think there's one lying around Breezehome. If you can't find it, send a letter to Jordis."
"You're honestly going alone?" The words spilled out of Ulfric's mouth before he realized. He felt almost jealous that she was going to take all the glory in this…but it was her quest, her prophecy. And then he felt fear. She was his one protection against the Empire, against the Thalmor.
He'd be taken and interrogated before being killed, if they even gave him the mercy of death. He couldn't take even the thought of it.
The Dragonborn nodded. She moved to the promenade stairs, shoving potions back into the sack. "Try not to get yourself killed whilst I'm gone. I've put so much effort into keeping you alive."
"Irileth, run and get a few rations for her," Balgruuf said. "Who knows how long it'll be before she's back." Irileth nodded and jogged from the Porch.
"It'll be like I never left," the Dragonborn asserted. Ulfric handed over his-her-sword and she attached it to her belt with skilled hands. "Jarl…I-Thank you. For everything."
"Thank me by getting rid of all these damned dragons!" Balgruuf replied, but still clasped a strong hand with her. "I'll be taking any funds to repair today's damage from you."
"Take it up with Lydia," the Dragonborn said. "Don't run me broke."
"Have I ever, my Thane?"
"Well, don't start now."
Irileth came back in and handed the Dragonborn a cloth sack that was promptly shoved alongside the potions. "Word from the guard is that not a single building burned," she announced. "Low casualties as well, if any."
Balgruuf let out a deep sigh and relaxed his shoulders. "Thank the gods…"
"Any dead dragons?" The Dragonborn asked.
"A few-"
"Excellent," she placed her sack down and cracked her knuckles. "I'll be right back, Odahviing. I don't imagine you'll be going anywhere without me." Odahviing made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "I'll clean up most of that mess for you, Jarl." She was off of the Porch in an instant.
"Ulfric," Balgruuf said, "what's the closest translation for 'milk-drinker' in dragon?"
Ulfric considered it. "Sahlonik Vosbaraankiir catches the intent."
Nariilu rushed through the city with Whirlwind Sprint, following vague directions from fallen dragon to fallen dragon. The report that not a single building burned was slightly overexaggerated; some roofs were smoldering, some buildings were covered in frost, some had half a dragon crashed through it.
Still, the energy in the city was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. This was nothing short of victory, and the people of Whiterun were already celebrating. She thought she wasn't stopping long enough for people to offer her ale, but she was wrong. People rushed out Song of the Dragonborn when she paused just long enough absorb a soul and get enough of an idea of where another corpse was to head in its general area. Mugs of whatever people had lying around, bottles of mead, wine, liquor were shoved in her hands without even asking first.
People hugged and kissed and yelled and whooped in the streets, cheering for themselves, for the guard, for their Jarl, for their Dovahkiin. Gods, she wished she could stay and celebrate. Damn it, if she wasn't half afraid Odahviing was only pretending to be trapped, she would stay and party enough to make Sanguine himself jealous.
She ran into Farengar at one of the corpses and blurted out an apology for taking away more or less its entire body as she absorbed that soul, that ancient, pulsing, transcendent, perfect soul. All in all, it seemed the people of Whiterun had killed seven dragons, with enough help from the Companions that Aela didn't even seem upset that she hadn't been on the Porch. No, she was too busy out-drinking everyone in the vicinity of the market, Hulda already handing out nearly-free alcohol and basically tearing the doors of the Bannered Mare down as she and her waitresses ran in and out, taking care to step over dragon bones.
And still she didn't linger, not when J'zargo was nowhere to be seen around the dragons or the drinks or the bragging or even the Temple of Kynareth where the priests set up a clinic for the far more than a few injured and dying and dead. It reminded her of the ones in the Great War, in the Civil War, and she almost stopped to help bandage a wound or to try and close a cut, but one glance to Dragonsreach nearly left her sprinting up the stairs, stopping only because her gaze traveled over the clinic and ghosted over a furry nose and blue mage robes.
The only furry nose allowed in Whiterun.
Instead of Shouting her way up to Dragonsreach, to Odahviing, to Sovngarde, to Alduin, to destiny, she ran over to the clinic, the morgue, and stared down at J'zargo's broken body.
All wrong angles and torn robes and holes clean through him and blood staining his nice robes-don't mess these up, I want you to wear them when you're my court mage-and a hand is on her shoulder and its Collette Marence, saying something Nariilu can't hear, won't hear, doesn't care to hear, and J'zargo doesn't joke, doesn't snark, doesn't breathe or move or live
He just lies there, closed eyes the only normal looking part of him even though right above his left eye, right where his eyebrow would be if he had eyebrows instead of stripes, his skull was caved in, flattened, broken, destroyed, it was probably what killed him, at least it probably didn't hurt, he probably didn't even see it coming
But the giant rips in his torso had hurt, they had to hurt; they were so big and wide she could see straight through the stone bench his body rested on, she could see his organs that stayed in place even though they didn't have to anymore. She hadn't even seen it happen. Had it been when she was passed out? Gods, she could've taken an injury like that. Become Ethereal, it was easy. Three Words and nothing could touch her. Three Words and she was basically a ghost. Just like J'zargo was a ghost now
Collette is saying something else, squeezing her shoulder just like J'zargo used to but there aren't any sharp claws to burst through her College robes, because she's wearing too much armor instead and Collette doesn't even have claws in the first place. And then Collette pats her back because that's what you're supposed to do when someone's staring down at the corpse their classmate, traveling partner, companion, friend, best friend, lover, and then Collette walks away, because there's other people to care for who aren't dead.
Like her. Nariilu isn't dead. She feels like it, but not yet, she supposes. She just stares and stares and stares and thinks about how soon enough she'll be walking into Sovngarde and J'zargo won't be there because even though he fell in battle he's not even a little bit of a Nord and Shor won't let a Khajiit into Sovngarde especially not J'zargo because he'd get fur in the ale or make a joke about how uptight Nords are about which flowers make the best honey for the best mead and get beat up by thousands of years of legendary heroes and he would still lie to her face and say that he won.
Gods, she didn't even know where in Oblivion or wherever else Khajiit souls were supposed to go.
And then she reached out and grabbed his hand to give it one last reassuring squeeze before she let go forever and his hand was colder than hers for the first time ever. She, who inherited all the ice blood of her grandfather and none of the ash blood of her parents and who can't even cast a proper ember spell, and this one calls herself a mage? had warmer hands then the man who pulled his hood off every chance he got because no one told him Skyrim would be so warm in the dead of winter, the man who was born with the desert under his skin and in his soul.
And she feels stupid, because one death shouldn't affect her so much, but it does anyway even though in the grand scheme of things she barely knew him especially compared to some of her fellow soldiers she'd watched die in the Great War. She feels stupid, because she doesn't have time to bury him or whatever Khajiit do with their dead and she never even thought to ask and now she can't. She feels stupid, because she feels each and every dragon soul inside her squirm painfully and twist up against her skin and J'zargo isn't there to loudly complain about how no clothes in Skyrim ever thought to allow enough space for a tail and distract her from the burning, pulsing, cringing souls that avow her strength to have whatever she wants when she gets upset like right now.
Instead, she lets the souls of the slain roll through her, electrifying every nerve in her body in an excruciating dance. They strain for a way out, for a body that isn't elf-sized, for more, more, more. The souls look down on J'zargo's corpse and agree with her; if she was stronger, this never would've happened.
"Hey, guess what, J'zargo? I didn't kill you!" Nariilu only realizes she spoke when she hears her voice sounding like it had run all the way from Elsweyr just to taunt her with its exhausted shakiness. "I win." Whatever his heart desires? His heart was still, and no amount of staring at it would start it beating again. She squeezes his hand harder. J'zargo doesn't squeeze back.
"Promise J'zargo you will not act in rage. J'zargo knows it is not you. You are stronger than the dragons. Do not let them control you" It had been his second-and last-request, made just on the edge of sleep.
Dead men can't make requests. Vengeance is not rage. Yes, she is stronger than every single dragon she'd ever slain and every one that would soon number amongst the slain. But they do not control her. She controls them.
Nariilu stalks away, her mind clouded with painful emotion and whispering souls, and she decides that killing Alduin and bathing in his blood is just what she needs to calm down.