(AN: Traveling back in time gives us another opportunity, one which I intend to exploit. Unfortunately, that does have some consequences farther down the line [after all, a war cannot be a war without some casualties]. The title gives away what happens, but I hope some of you got a chuckle out of using a line from one of Heimskr's speeches for the chapter title.)

My Breath is Long Winter

Late afternoon, somewhere in Falkreath. The sun was dwindling as the three riders came galloping up the footpath from the main road. The folks in Oakwood were more than willing to give them directions to Lakeview Estate: the plot of land overlooking Lake Ilinalta that Jarl Siddgeir had gifted to Eirik the Dragonborn. The road had been long and they had rested little on their journey: they had to reach the manor as soon as possible. They spoke little to each other, but Sigrun often found herself looking over at Erik periodically. For a young man, he cut an impressive figure: tall, sun-kissed, and muscular from his days of farming. Even dressed as he was, with a linen cloak and padded Stormcloak curraiss from the bandits, he was appealing to her.

She wondered why or how she hadn't seen this before, when she first met him.

They continued riding, following the path. Any minute now they expected to see the upper level of Lakeview Manor rising up through the trees to meet their eyes. Yet they were coming close to the top of the plateau upon which it had been built, and they could not see it. As they approached, however, they could see the light of a campfire and several voices in deep discussion. They came at last to the brink of the hill and stopped. Before them was the plateau, but there was nothing of the house visible. All they could see were the pieces of a stone foundation situated within a roped off floor-plan. Nearby was a small group of tents gathered around a campfire.

Sigrun gasped audibly when she noticed two of the six people gathered about the campfire. There, looking younger than she had ever known him - except when she was five - was her Father, Eirik the Dragonborn. He was much less grim and stern than she remembered: he smiled easier and more often, though seemed rather awkwardly quiet and shy for one so tall. With him was her Mother, Mjoll the Lioness. She was just as beautiful as she remembered, though her mane of golden-red hair wasn't as large as it had been when she last saw her. They were particularly close, with Mjoll either resting against Eirik's shoulder or sitting between his legs and resting her head against his chest. She also recognized Ralof of Riverwood, a regular of the Sons of Skyrim and therefore frequently visiting the house: the other three she did not recognize. There was a Nord woman with dark hair, a Redguard with short dark hair, and a man whom she could only guess might be of Imperial origin.

But she wasn't the only one who had noticed them. The dark-haired woman rose up from her place and drew a sword from where it was resting, while Eirik stood up and strode toward them.

"Well met, kinsmen...and women," he said. "Can I help you?"

Sigrun was caught off-guard. That was her Father's voice. She could barely speak, and only stare in awe at him. She felt like bursting into tears, leaping off the horse, and throwing her arms around him. But she remained in her saddle and said nothing. It was Jonna at last who spoke.

"Is this Lakeview?" she asked.

"Aye, it is," Eirik replied. "And who are you?"

"We're friends of the Stormcloaks," Jonna replied. "We come with dire news."

"You're friends, are you?" Eirik asked. "Well, you're welcome to stay here. I'm afraid there's not much as far as food; we're working on the house. But we'll share with you what we have."

"Thank you, sir," Erik thanked. They dismounted from their horses, while Eirik had Rayya tie them to a tree with their own animals. The three of them joined the group, and Mjoll broke some of their bread and gave it to them. Erik and Jonna thanked them, but Sigrun said nothing. She couldn't help but smile when Eirik took his place back around the campfire and wrapped his arms around Mjoll. She looked periodically at her Mother's stomach: had it happened already? Was she herself less than ten feet across from her, swimming as a tiny speck inside her mother's womb?

Mjoll noticed the young woman's glance, and other things as well.

"So," she spoke up. "What are your names?"

"I'm Jonna Strong-Voice," said the daughter of Jordis. "That there is Erik the Slayer, and the quiet one is our leader...Sigrun Stormborn."

"Strong-Voice," Ralof mused. "How did you come by the name?"

"I'm not a Tongue, but I can shout down anyone just the same," Jonna bragged. "And I have a love for battle unmatched by anyone yet."

Ralof chuckled. "I like that. Glad to have you on our side."

"You're name is Erik also?" Eirik asked. "So is mine. Well, the Atmoran version of Erik, that is. Where are you from?"

"Rorikstead," came the answer.

"Indeed? Do you happen to know someone named Lokir?"

"Aye, I do," Erik began. "A petty thief. Where did you meet him?"

"At Helgen," Eirik replied grimly. "He's dead. Shot in the back with an arrow."

"Can't say I'll mourn him," Erik stated. "My da suffered quite a bit from his theft. How did he end up there?"

"Not sure," Eirik returned.

"He walked into an Imperial ambush at Darkwater Crossing," Ralof explained. "Said he was on his way to Hammerfell on a stolen horse."

"Let's not talk about Helgen right now, okay?" Eirik asked.

"As you wish," Ralof replied.

"What brings you here, friends?" the Imperial man, whom Mjoll had introduced as Aerin, asked.

"The war," Jonna said. "But I think Sigrun should say this, shouldn't she?"

All eyes now turned to Sigrun. She looked shocked to see them all staring at her, especially her Father and Mother. She feared that she would let on something important and ruin everything. How could she not? There was little that she could hide successfully under their gaze, and though they may not be her parents right now, in her mind they were her parents indeed.

"Uh..." she stammered. "Are you...Eirik, the Dragonborn?"

"Aye, I am."

"Then we're here for you," Sigrun said slowly.

"Oh?" he asked. "Does Ulfric have need of me? The treaty's still on, so I don't imagine he would."

"Also," the dark-haired Nord, whom Eirik had introduced as his huscarl Lydia, spoke up. "You came from the northwest, not the east."

"That's because they stopped at Rorikstead before coming here," Erik said. "We foiled an attempted attack by bandits posing as Stormcloaks."

"What?!" Eirik exclaimed. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm wearing one of their cuirasses," Erik stated.

"How do you know they weren't Stormcloaks?" Ralof asked.

"We interrogated them and they admitted to being bandits paid to pose as Stormcloaks."

A stunned silence filled the camp, broken only by the chirping of insects and the crackling of their fire.

"This doesn't bode well, my thane," Lydia spoke up. "General Tullius could use this as reason to end the truce and go to war with us again."

"Damned faithless Imperials," Ralof cursed. "They probably sicked those thugs on Rorikstead to frame us."

"It was the Thalmor," Jonna stated. Silence once again.

"This is worse than I thought," Eirik commented. "It seems the Thalmor have been behind this war all along, and are trying to force us back into fighting again." He sighed heavily, stroking his beard.

"Well, one way or another," Jonna stated. "Fighting's going to happen. And the Empire will find the Jerall Mountain passes open, so they'll have fresh reinforcements."

"How do you know this?" Mjoll asked.

"It doesn't matter," Jonna dismissed. "We're here for you, Dragonborn. We need you to help us close the Jerall Mountain passes."

"What?"

"Yes," Sigrun spoke up. "W-With the passes closed, the Empire's reinforcements will be stalled."

"And they won't be able to fight," Eirik concluded. "A worthy plan, but how can I close the passes?"

"There are three ways to enter Skyrim from the south," the Redguard, Rayya the Bright, spoke up. "Two are here in Falkreath, and the other is in the Rift."

"That's quite a journey!" Aerin exclaimed.

"And we'll have to start immediately in order to close all three of them," Jonna stated.

"But how can I close the passes?" Eirik asked. "I cannot command the weather; that's the purview of the gods!"

"Yes, you can, my thane," Lydia spoke up. All eyes turned to her. "Remember that time in Skuldafn? You found one of those Word Walls, and read some words in the Dragon Tongue."

Eirik paused, thinking back on the event in question.

"I...I think it could work," he said at last, surprised at this revelation.

"Good!" Jonna exclaimed. "So can we count on your support?"

"To keep the Thalmor from starting the war again?" Eirik asked. "Of course."

"Good!" Sigrun chimed in. "Now, let's eat. I'm hungry."

The little group ate on in mirth and merriment, regaling their guests with stories of their adventures. For Sigrun and Jonna, these were old tales they had heard a dozen times over. For Erik, they were brand new stories that he had never heard before. Yet each of them enjoyed what they heard in their own way, especially Sigrun. Hearing familiar stories, being told anew as if to a whole new audience, was a rare treat.

Despite Jonna's insistence that time was of the essence and they had to leave at once, Mjoll counter-insisted that Eirik remain here for the night and depart first-thing in the morning. For the night, they doubled up in their tents to allow the strangers somewhere to sleep: Lydia, Aerin, and Rayya kept watch over the camp, while Ralof and Erik were in one tent, Sigrun and Jonna in another, and Eirik and Mjoll in another. In the tent of Sigrun and Jonna, the shorter and older of the two seemed quite frustrated with the taller and younger one.

"You were a great help today," she groaned. "I had to do all the thinking and planning on the spot while you just sat there and gaped at them."

"I couldn't help it!" Sigrun returned. "They're my p...well, you know."

"Well, you'll need to get a hold on yourself sooner or later," she said. "We have a mission here, after all, and you need to be focused."

"I don't know," Sigrun hissed. "There was just...something that struck me when I looked at them. Haven't seen them since our departure, and then Bjorn told me what would happen. I...I was just so happy and-and relieved to see them alive and young again..." She sighed. "...but I couldn't say anything."

Jonna sighed. "Well, at least you have parents. Mine's an emasculated little b*tch."

"What do you mean?"

"Idolaf Battle-Born."

"Well, he's not like that now."

"I know, but I doubt he'll be any better. From what your Da told in his stories, he was a right shit. I wouldn't want to meet him."

Uneasy silence followed between the two of them, as they tried to sleep in what would otherwise be considered a cuddling position. Jonna, serving as the small spoon, was looking quite frustrated after bringing up her father. Sigrun, on the other hand, was still bewildered after seeing her own parents. She laid herself back on the yak-skin, wrapped her cloak around the both of them, and tried to sleep.

"I'll never get used to this," Jonna grumbled.

"Oh, come off it," Sigrun chuckled. "We used to sleep in each other's beds as kids. Remember?" Jonna nodded. They tried to sleep, but Jonna shifted uncomfortably against Sigrun and then spoke up.

"What are your thoughts about tomorrow?" she asked.

"Mmmm, I'm trying to sleep right now," Sigrun moaned.

"I know, I know," Jonna returned. "But you've got to have some kind of thoughts about tomorrow."

"I try not to. Too disappointing."

"That was before. Now we have to be thinking about tomorrow, making plans and such. Like what are we gonna do about your Da?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Well, I was thinking back on the ride over here what Roggi told us about the ancient Nord beliefs. And then when that thug Serkur gave up and was begging for his life, it dawned on me just how much our people have changed. I mean, it's really obvious now. And just earlier, when I told your Da about our mission, he seemed less interested in winning the war as to preventing war."

"He said he'd help us."

"Yes, but that's not the point."

"Well, what is the point?"

"Your Da was adopted," Jonna began. "He was raised in Bruma after your grandparents died. Sure, that might as well be the tenth hold of Skyrim, but it's Cyrodiil no less. I fear he might be carrying many Imperial ideas in his head."

"That's crazy!" Sigrun dismissed. "He was born in Skyrim, he's a Nord, fully dedicated to Talos and the safeguarding of Skyrim."

"Sure he is now, in our time," Jonna said. "Certain things had to happen before he came to the place where he is now. But now?"

"Huh? That's confusing."

"I mean now now, as in the time we're in now, not our now."

Sigrun groaned. "That's even more confusing."

"You know what I mean, dammit! He's not the same Eirik you knew, and we're going to have to deal with that." She sighed. "You're going to have to deal with that."

"Why me?"

"He's your Father, not mine. And I already said I'm not going to do what I did for Mralki again."

Sigrun sighed. "Fine, fine. I'll see what I can do tomorrow. For now, just let me sleep."

Jonna huffed, but did as Sigrun requested. She said nothing more that night, and tried to sleep with Sigrun's arms around her and her body against her back. But while her mouth did not speak, her mind was abuzz for several hours more. She thought about all that had happened: her father, Jarl Nelkir, the Dunmer, what the priest told Roggi about the old names of the Divines, Whiterun, Halted Stream, Arvela, and now this. She was surprised at how much had happened in so short a time, and even more surprised that she was keeping herself together through all of this.

Morning arose away eastward, though the sun was partially hidden behind the Throat of the World. The camp woke up stiff and sore. Erik and Ralof were talking when Sigrun and Jonna awoke: Erik was none too fond of the sleeping arrangements, and Ralof reminded him that it was better than sharing a tent with Aerin. There was some food left over from the previous night, which they ate for the morning. Meanwhile, Eirik was girding himself in his traveling gear with the assistance of Mjoll. To Sigrun's surprise, he was wearing only steel armor, rather than the dragon-bone set she had seen so many times in the basement of Lakeview.

"Where's your armor?" she asked him.

"Back at the camp," he replied. "There's not much need of it, now that things have quieted down."

"Quieted down?" Jonna asked. "How so?"

"We can talk on the way," he replied. "Didn't you say we had to leave soon?"

Jonna nodded, then got up to partake of food and give some to Sigrun before their departure. For the sake of speed, it was agreed upon that only Sigrun and Jonna would go with Eirik to point out the locations on the map; meanwhile, the others were to stay behind and continue working on the house in their absence. Needless to say, there were some involved who were not particularly happy about this. Erik, Mjoll, and Lydia insisted that they should be going with them, but they were not allowed. Eirik was sensitive to Mjoll's condition, despite the earliness of it, and would not have her going on a long journey: Sigrun smiled at this.

Once everything was said and done, Sigrun and Jonna mounted one horse and Eirik took his sword - the two-handed Blade of the Skaal, engraved with runes by the finest crafters in Solstheim - and mounted his horse. Together they rejoined the main road and headed west, towards Oakwood. From Oakwood they continued on to the crossroads, where they turned south, winding their way through the tall, green trees on either side of the road. By noon they reached Falkreath, and skirted along its southern wall, following the main road. When they came directly south of the town, there was a fork in the road: the main path continued eastward, while another path broke off southward and seemed to double-back along the way they had just come. Here they halted to check the map.

"Where now?" Eirik asked.

"We turn south," Jonna said, as she looked at the map. "The pass should be a mile or so from us."

They turned their horses down the fork and started following the path. By and by, it began to wind steadily southward, till it was no longer following the same path as the main road. While they galloped along at a trotting pace, Jonna turned to Eirik.

"Um, excuse me?" she asked. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What did you mean that things had quieted down in Skyrim lately?"

"Just that," he returned. "The dragons have all retreated into the mountains, the vampire menace has been stopped, and there's still a month and a half left in the truce."

"Truce?"

"I had Ulfric and Tullius stop the fighting while I dealt with the dragons," Eirik stated. "Surprised that it even worked."

"Why are you surprised?" Jonna asked. "You're the Dragonborn, after all."

"That may be, but I'm just a man," he returned. "A nobody from the woods of Falkreath. Once this war is over and Ulfric sits on the throne, I'll go back to being a nobody in the woods of Falkreath. Just me and Mjoll and our children, living in peace for the rest of our lives...giving them the life I never had."

"That's beautiful," Sigrun commented.

They rode on in silence for the remainder of their journey, until at last they came to the border outpost on this side of the Jerall Mountains. Here they halted and looked about at the surrounding hills.

"Well, here we are," Eirik said. "Now what?"

"Shout," Jonna replied. "Remember last night? What Lydia said?"

"Yes, I remember," he returned. "But I don't know how it will work here."

"What do you mean?"

"Last night, I pondered what those words I saw in Skuldafn could mean," he began. "It seemed like a story about a storm, but I'm not sure how a storm could help us here. I mean, even if it were a really powerful one, what could it do but knock down the gatehouse? And the Legion could just rebuild it."

Jonna puzzled where she sat upon her horse. Sigrun, meanwhile, was looking up at the mountains around them.

"What about those mountains?" she asked.

"Pardon?"

"What if you Shouted at those mountains?" she asked, pointing forward at the tall peaks. "Maybe it could throw down stones onto the pass?"

"Or kick up a fierce gale," Eirik mused. "Very clever." He rode up closer to the gatehouse, his eyes fixed on the mountains.

"Strun!" he shouted. All three of the horses neighed and reared up in fright as a deep, powerful pulse echoed from Eirik's mouth.

Before their eyes, they saw clouds gather high upon the tops of the mountains above the pass. Thunder began to rumble very near at hand, and flashes of lightning crashed almost instantaneously alongside them. Fierce winds began to swirl and snow began to be kicked up amid the wind. To the surprise of all, a small blizzard was forming in the mountains before them, hurling down snow and rock from the wind and lightning crashes.

"Ha ha!" Eirik exclaimed. "How about that! Old Heimskr would have a thing or two to say if he could see me now!"

"I just hope it'll hold," Sigrun commented.

"May Kyne grant that the winds continue to blow till the war is won," Jonna said aloud.

"Amen to that!" Eirik replied, beaming widely at what had happened: what he had done. Sigrun couldn't help but smile as well; it made her feel warm and at ease to see her Father so happy. It had been many years since she remembered him so happy in her own time.

Meanwhile, he checked his horse and brought it around to the ladies. "Alright, where to next?"

Jonna pulled open the map and examined where they were and where they had to go. "Alright, it looks like we just have one more here in Falkreath and the one in the Rift. So we just go back onto the main road, and follow that till we get to Helgen, then south till Fort Neugrad..."

"Wait, did you say Helgen?" Eirik asked, his countenance falling.

"Yes, I did," Jonna stated. "It's the only way to get to the pass." Eirik hung his head crestfallen, and said nothing else. "What? We have to go there, or else the Empire will have a way back into Skyrim."

"If there were any other way, I wouldn't hesitate," he said. "But...Helgen..."

"What's the matter with Helgen?" Jonna asked.

Sigrun leaned over from her horse, standing side by side with Jonna's, and whispered into her ear. "That's where Alduin appeared in Skyrim."

"I...I'd rather not go back there," Eirik said. "I'd rather not relive that day."

"Sigrun?" Jonna said, turning to her companion.

"What?" Jonna gave her a furtive look, and then Sigrun turned back to her Father. It was so strange to see him like this: fearful, indecisive, and crestfallen. Not at all the picture of strength and power that she had in her mind as a child. She turned back to Jonna, pleading with her eyes to have her do the talking for her; Jonna shook her head, trying to look stern and assertive.

This is your fight now, Sig, her face said. She turned back to face her Father.

"You...you have to go," she said, slowly and fearfully, as if expecting him to raise his voice at her. Not that Eirik often raised his voice at her as a child, but the scarcity of such outbursts made them even more fearful when they did happen.

"Why?"

"It's the only way," Sigrun repeated.

Eirik sighed. "I wish Mjoll were here with me, or Lydia."

"Well, it's just us, da..." Sigrun uttered, unaware of her slip of the tongue. "Da...dammit. It's just us, dammit. You can't always have your way, you know."

"I know that all too well," Eirik replied. "I've been a servant my whole life, doing things everyone else's way but mine."

"Just one more time," Sigrun said. "For Skyrim."

"Ah," Eirik shook his head. "I would do anything for Skyrim, it's just that..."

"That what?" Sigrun asked.

"Helgen..." he muttered. "The things that happened there. A prisoner dragged to the chopping block, seeing kin slaughter kin: without remorse, without pity. They jeered and mocked our deaths, saying it was justice...and then the dragon came. They ran, they fought, and they burned...man, woman, and child."

"But that was before," Sigrun said. "Now look at yourself. You're not a prisoner anymore: you're the Dragonborn, by Ysmir! You survived that inferno, you slew Alduin. You're a stronger man now than you were then."

Eirik was silent in his saddle, the only sounds the crack of lightning, the rumbling of thunder, and the howl of the wind as snow began to alight upon the ground around them. Periodically, he would look at his right hand, open the palm, and flex the fingers: what this meant, few of them could guess. He was especially vague about his time with the Dawnguard, and Serana shared only a little of what had happened between them out of courtesy for his wishes.

"Hey," Sigrun said. "Look at me, d...Dragonborn." Eirik turned to look at her. "You can do this. We believe in you."

Silence. The lightning crackled, the thunder boomed, and the snow continued to howl upon the whistling wind. Eirik's hand returned to the reins of his horse, and he lifted his head up, a determined look in his brown eyes.

"Alright," he said, the strength returning to his voice. "Let's go back to Helgen."

(AN: In addition to re-reading my own stories and having to come up with plot-lines that must be resolved early, not to mention consequences for actions happening out of time, I realized several important things. One of which is how awful my grammar was in my old stories, and how many spelling and grammatical errors slipped through FF's spell-checker [I was going to explain it away that either Eirik isn't as good a writer as he would like to believe - as well as some "unreliable narrator" stuff to waive away some of the lore errors early on - or that a certain "two-faced" somebody rewrote his story in order to discredit him].)

(Another was how I depicted Eirik. While that worked for the time, it's hardly where he needs to be. The hard part will be trying to convince him to change without seeing the atrocities and betrayals firsthand. Aside from him being easily influenced, and not very adamant in his beliefs, he was also very...um, weak. That was going to be addressed in a non-canon spin-off featuring a certain Potastic recorder following him between the events of his first dragon and Elenwen's party: I decided against that and instead chose to focus some of that character exploration [and development] here.)