Alduin was there, hovering over at the Throat of the World, staring bloody daggers at his enemies. Skathi felt his rage, hunger and chill from his presence alone. This would be it. They would need to kill him now or they may not ever find another chance to kill him.
Here, at the precipice of destiny, Skathi was afraid of more than her enemy. She had considered her fate was to die pointlessly by Alduin's rage, but there were other things. Perhaps Paarthurnax was right and this would only begin the ending of the world. Perhaps it would be stalled and the better things to come never would. Perhaps this is all for naught.
But she couldn't let herself think that. The next world will need to take care of itself, as she wouldn't willing bring it worth. She would fight Alduin as long and hard as she could, whether in vain or not. She would die by fire or be forever known as a dragon slayer.
"Bahloki nahkip sillesejoor," Alduin growled at Skathi, "My belly is full of the souls of your fellow mortals, Dovahkiin. Die now and await your fate in Sovngarde!"
"Lost funt," Paarthurnax postured, "You are too late, Alduin!"
"Suleyki mulaag, Paarthurnax," the Beast shot back, "My power has waxed, while yours has waned. Aav uv dir. Join me or perish with your mortal friends."
"Unslaad hokoron!" the old dragon shouted, "Never again!"
Paarthurnax bolted off the ground with his thunderous wings spread and charged his fallen brother. The old dragon bit and clawed at his older brother, but they didn't pierce his skin, only scratch scales away. The stronger Alduin's bit right into his younger brother's neck, drawing blood. Even after all these years, Alduin was more powerful than his brethren.
But not the Dragonborn.
"Joor Zah Frul!"
Skathi's Shout reached Alduin as his brother's wounded form fell to the ground. The Beast's eyes went wide with panic, familiar from a thousand years ago. His wings failed him like they did moments and millennia ago. He fell hard on the peak, writhing in fear. He looked at Skathi with the barely contained rage of the sun and all the stars in the heavens.
Skathi charged the Beast, sword drawn, and swung at his jaw. He dodged the blade and tried to put her in his mouth. Skathi got out of the way just in time and swung her sword again. For the first time since she saw him, his skin broke and blood rushed down his snout. Alduin jumped back in surprise. This was the first time he fought a Dragonborn, wasn't it?
Alduin let loose his fire breath, but it only scorched her armor and singed the ends of her hair. Again, he probably never fought a Dragonborn before. He summoned the rock and flame from when he first revealed himself, but they lost their effect with use and Skathi wasn't afraid. She brought her sword straight into his chest, though the skin didn't break.
It was clear this wouldn't end quickly. Even if one could kill the other, it would be long and tiring. If Skathi fell, Paarthurnax would still have enough strength to finish him. Alduin surely knew this, as he was backing up towards the cliff.
"Meyz mul, Dovahkiin," the wounded Beast remarked, "You have become strong."
He lifted himself into the air and continued, "But I am Al-du-in, Firstborn of Akatosh! Muulagi zok lot! I cannot be slain here, by you or anyone else! You cannot prevail against me. I will outlast you," he sneered "mortal."
And he bolted away to the horizon. Skathi tried to Shout Dragonrend again, but it surely wouldn't reach. Fine then. Skathi begrudgingly accepted this failure and fell back onto the snow, tired from the fight. Paarthurnax came beside her, nursing his wound.
"Lot krongrah. You truly have the Voice of a dovah," he remarked, "Alduin's allies will think twice after this victory."
"It wasn't really a victory, since Alduin escaped," Skathi retorted.
"Ni liivrah hin mere. True, this is not the final krongah," he paused from his comforting, "victory. But not even the heroes of old were able to defeat Alduin in open battle. Alduin always was pahlok," he paused for the right word, "arrogant in his power. Uznahgar paar. He took domination as his birthright. This should shake the loyalty of the dov who serve him."
Skathi nodded, grateful for this small comfort, but still focused. "I need to find out where Alduin went," she stated.
"Yes, one of his allies could tell us," the old dragon added, "Motmahus. But it will not be easy to," he searched for the right word, "convince one of them to betray him. Perhaps the hofkahsejun," Paarthurnax paused to find the right word, "the palace in Whiterun."
"Dragonsreach?" Skathi asked.
The old dragon nodded. "It was originally built to house a captive dovah," he explained, "A fine place to trap one of Alduin's allies, hmm?"
"The Jarl of Whiterun might not think so," the Dragonborn mused. Any good Jarl wouldn't let a dragon in their city if they had a choice.
"Hmm, yes," Paarthurnax realized, "But your Thu'um is strong. I do not doubt you can convince him of the need."
"Maybe," Skathi replied, "But there's a war going on."
Paarthurnax seethed. "Someone made a mistake then," he remarked, "No one wants to go to war when talk will do. Anyone does is a volg tingrol," he paused for the right word, "wild beast who needs to be put down."
"It might not be so easy," she stated, "It has come to this point through many issues, I don't even know where to start."
"Then find it," Paarthurnax commanded, "Life is far too precious to waste on a war amongst mortals."
Skathi nodded and began her descent down High Hrothgar. She had some things to consider. She didn't know that much about what caused the war. All she knew was what Imperials and Stormcloaks told her. She didn't know who drew first blood, who's done worse or who deserves to win or fail. She wasn't even that versed in the art of war.
But she had to do something. Even if they didn't join the battle against Alduin, getting them to stop fighting would be best for Skyrim. The less deaths, the better. Something to keep her awake at night as she pondered what exactly she would do. Tomorrow, she would need to convince a Jarl to let a dragon into his city. It was going to be a nightmare.
Whiterun had changed by far since Skathi had left. Stormcloak soldiers patrolled the streets, making the citizens fearful instead of a sense of safety. Children no longer ran in the streets, but within arm's reach of their parents they silently played. Venders carried axes instead of daggers, save the blacksmith, whose mace was replaced with a greatsword.
Speaking of which, Adrienne Avenicci saw less traffic since the takeover. She was an Imperial, so the guards were warried to buy anything from her. If she wasn't married to a Nord, there wouldn't be anything in the coffers. Skathi bought some extra arrows and asked to improve a sword she found. Adrienne had no experience with swords of this make.
In the marketplace, Skathi noticed a missing face or two, probably killed in the battle. Carlotta Valentia, the grocer, commented on how the Stormcloaks would try to court her far more frequently than the previous guards and hadn't bathed as much. They kept saying they'd "conquer me as a true Nord conquers any harsh beast." That gave Skathi some ideas.
The outsider snuck into the back of the Bannered Mare, where the current captain of the guard was on break. She made sure not to be unseen she approached him from behind. Once in arm's reach, she grabbed him with both arms, pulled her over her head and smashed him on the ground behind her. The warrior looked up in confusion and anger.
"That is what happens when your men harass Carlotta Valentia!" Skathi proclaimed, "She's under the watch of Skathi Wolf-Runner, Dragonborn!"
"You're Dragonborn?" the captain sneered as he picked himself up, "Prove it."
"Fus Ro Dah!"
The captain was flung into the backroom of the inn, bruised but still able to stand again. When he did, he was spooked and ran out the door. The inn around the fire raised their drinks, though the innkeeper had an equally panicked face to the captain.
As she left the inn, she was approached by one of the guards. "I need you to stop," he ordered, shakily, "That shouting is making people nervous."
Skathi was feeling cocky. "Too bad," she snarked back, "There's more where that came from."
The guard looked around, trying to gather himself. "Can't say I've heard of a law against," he paused, "whatever that is you're doing. But I'll lock you up if I have to."
"Whatever," Skathi smirked.
The guard froze up and stated, "I've got my eye on you."
She gave a brave face, but she was really scared during that exchange. That could've easily ended with her arresting and everything she fought for put on hold while she carried out her sentence. Well, if Skathi could do that, she could surely confront the Jarl.
And it wasn't Balgruuf the Greater that on the dais. Instead, an old man with leathered skin and white hair sat on the throne. Skathi didn't recognize this man, but the woman beside him she did know as Olfina Gray-Mane. Beyond that, she had no clue who this new Jarl was.
"Now, who comes before the Jarl of Whiterun?" the old man barked.
"Skathi Wolf-Runner," the outsider stated, "Dragonborn and Thane of Whiterun. Who in Oblivion are you?"
The Jarl raised an eyebrow. "You don't know your own Jarl?" he questioned.
"Sorry, I've been too busy fighting dragons to care what arsehole sits on which throne," Skathi explained.
He frowned. "Vignar, head of Clan Gray-Mane and Jarl of Whiterun," he replied, "What business does an upstart like you have with me?"
At least they were getting to the point. "I need to trap a dragon in your palace," Skathi explained.
Vignar's frown tightened in confusion. "I must have misheard you," he feigned, "I though you asked me to help you trap a dragon in my palace."
Skathi crossed her arms. "I hope you know I wouldn't ask it if it wasn't important," she remarked, "I know it's dangerous, but I need to question the dragon specific questions that only they can answer." She continued passionately, "Alduin has returned. I must find him and slay him."
Vignar looked as though he'd heard the mad truth. He closed his eyes and signed. "You already saved Whiterun from the other dragon," he recounted, "We owe you a great deal." He stood up. "I want to help you, Dragonborn. And I will," he stated, "But I need your help first."
"This is about the war, isn't it?" Skathi inquired.
"What do you think the Imperials would be doing while this dragon slaughters my men?" Vignar explained, "I can't risk weakening my city while we are under the threat of enemy attack. I'm sorry."
It was always going to come back to the war. "What if you didn't have to worry about an enemy attack?" Skathi inquired.
Vignar raised an eyebrow. "Then I would be glad to help your mad dragon-trapping scheme," he answered, "But getting both sides to agree to a truce will be difficult at this point. The bitterness has gone too deep."
Then his face shot as though an idea came into his head. "Maybe, hmm," he pondered, "What about the Greybeards? They are respected by all Nords. High Hrothgar is neutral territory." He continued, "If the Greybeards were willing to host a council then maybe Ulfric and Tullius will have to listen."
Skathi nodded. "Leave that to me," she stated, "I'll talk to Arngeir about hosting a peace council."
"Aye, Dragonborn," the jarl agreed, "Maybe you can stop the dragons, and this war into the bargain."
Skathi left the conversation there.
When she left Dragonsreach, she went right for the Skyforge. She beheld its majesty, a statue of a hawk over a pool of molten steel and ancient machines around it. At the grindstone was an old man with the body of one half his age, strong as the foundations of a mountain. Quite the sight to behold.
"Excuse me, sir," Skathi inquired, "I need to know if this forge can rework ancient Nord workmanship."
"It can, but I'll not let a child like you work the forge," the blacksmith stated, "You look more like a hunter than a smithy."
"I know, I'm not a smithy," she admitted, "but Adrienne Avenicci is."
"What are you suggesting?" he asked, a confused look on his face.
"I would like a job done, specifically by Adrienne, but she isn't experience in these field of smithing," Skathi explained, "I would like you to guide her through it."
He shrugged. "Sounds more complicated than it needs to be," he remarked.
"Maybe, but if the people around here know an Imperial made my sword, they'd be more inclined to buy from her," Skathi explained.
"Sounds a fine enough idea."
"Don't worry, you'll both be paid well."
The blacksmith's eyes shot open. "Gods be praised!" he cheered. How much money has he made lately?
Rena's lessons were done for the day, so she dismissed her soldiers. General Tullius saw it fit that such a distinguished soldier in this war would train the Legion's new recruits. They were young, unused to war, so she had a long way to go. But still, she knew they would be thrown into combat before the month was out. They were so strapped for reinforcements; she was expecting them to rush their training.
The Legion's situation was precarious. They controlled the northern holds and Markarth, and were preparing to invade Windhelm, but it could easily be lost in an instant. Their first attempt to enter Eastmarch was met with strong resistance. To their understanding, the Stormcloaks' situation was just as shaky, but that could easily change with their conjure recruits out of nowhere.
What was a boon is that the Stormcloaks lost interest in Markarth. The Legion garrison and hold guards had enough troubles to deal with, so that and the two failures to take the hold probably deterred their morale. Ansgar's sword arm was probably a big deterrent. Rena wondered if they had stories about him. The Legion certainly did.
Rena entered Castle Dour's chambers to pick up dinner and to talk with Tullius. She had discussing a curriculum to train Legionnaires faster, cutting out a lot of unnecessary fluff in traditional training while keeping their value as soldiers. Hammered out the program was the hard part, as finding this bit or that bit hard to remove or quicken. Tullius's persistent to make it work though, so Rena kept working at it.
Their soup and bread were taken in the war room. They had little patience for dinner when there was work to be done. From these meetings, Rena could discern a few things here or there from the war effort. One is that Ulfric's desperation was being halted by his common sense, as he was reinforcing the holds that he had and was digging in for a Legion invasion on every front, even another army from Cyrodiil bursting through Falkreath and the Rift. He wasn't going to make this easy.
"Do you even sleep?" Rena once asked.
"I'm not sure," Tullius replied.
The general's health was worrisome. The more Rena saw him, the more she noticed some rather unhealthy behaviors from him. He would barely touch his food and it was her that called it quits for the night, while he would say he had some more work to do before she saw him there in the morning like he hadn't stopped working. Rena wondered who would kill him first: Ulfric or himself.
One day, they sat down for the evening workload when one of the guards came forth.
"General Tullius," he spoke, "You have a visitor here to see you."
He raised an eyebrow. "Anyone I should know?" He inquired.
"No one I recognize," the guard stated, "Some traveler."
He sighed. "What business does he have?" he asked.
"My business is not to be shared through the rumor mill, General," a familiar voice spoke from the lobby, "Skyrim is my business."
It was Skathi. Rena almost couldn't believe it.
"And who would you be?" Tullius asked.
"Skathi Wolf-Runner," she stated, "Dragonborn."
Rena perked up at the voice and the mention of the name. She hadn't Skathi in a while.
Tullius was surprised as well. "Boy, let her in and go back to your post," he ordered.
The guard nodded and let Skathi pass. She had changed a bit from when Rena first met her. Her armor was scorched and patched, looking like, well, she had been fighting dragons. Her arms showed an improved diet, looking less lanky and gamy and more like an archer's muscles. Her hair was cleaner, and the braids didn't tangle each other, but still as dark as before. Overall, she seemed to be in far better health than before.
"Do you have some reason to be here, citizen?" Tullius inquired.
"I believe we've already met," Skathi remarked, her horned helmet off.
"Have we?" he asked, thinking about how that was possible. "Oh. Of course. You were at Helgen!" Rena didn't know that. Probably the one Nord that didn't wear Stormcloak colors, didn't run and wasn't Ulfric. "One of the prisoners, if I recall correctly," Tullius remarked.
"Indeed, and by your laws, I deserved to be there," Skathi admitted, "But you'll recall that wasn't the most important thing going on in Helgen."
Tullius surely remember the Dragon or he would be a fool. "Still, give me a reason not to throw you in the dungeon," he asked.
"I don't think we have the time to see how badly that could go," the Dragonborn remarked, "Besides, I have a message from the Greybeards."
"The Greybeards?" he chagrinned, "What do those old hermits want with me?"
"They're convening a peace council at High Hrothgar," she stated.
Tullius looked confused by this. "Why? There's nothing to discuss," he seethed, "as long as that traitor Ulfric is in arms against his rightful Emperor."
Skathi rolled her eyes like it wasn't even worth it. "We need a truce until the dragon menace is dealt with," she informed.
Rena remembered how fast the Eastmarch invasion went rotten when one of those beasts ended up on the battlefield. She hoped the general would remember that too.
"They are getting to be a problem," he nodded, "But I wasn't sent to Skyrim to fight dragons. My job is to quell this rebellion, and I intend to do just that, dragons or no dragons."
Skathi looked as though that was the stupidest thing she ever heard. "The dragons are a bigger problem than the Stormcloaks right now," she stated.
"I'll be the judge of that," he retorted, "Besides, by all reports the Stormcloaks are suffering just as much as we are from these dragon attacks."
The Dragonborn's face looked as though she knew her current strategy wasn't going to work. So, she changed it. "The Empire can't afford to snub the Greybeards," she stated.
Tullius grimly nodded. "Hmm. You may have a point," he agreed, "I'm always surprised by how seriously the Nords take these things." Legate Rikke seemed uncomfortable with that remark.
"You'll come to the peace council, then?" Skathi asked, confident in the answer.
"Yes. Yes, fine," the general sighed, "I'll come to this Greybeard council. For all the good it will do."
Skathi bowed her head. "Thank you," she replied, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go shopping."
Rena wasn't sure what to make of that. She hoped it meant the end of the war.
As it turned out, Ulfric's absence wasn't for travel time; Jeanne knew that wasn't the case. He was digging in the heels of the Stormcloak warband for the long haul. The Legion was preoccupied with taking Eastmarch, but they would find no quarter there, nor would they find any when they turned to fight the more vulnerable holds.
Another thing Ulfric was doing on the frontlines was taking in the displaced Jarls from the capture of the Pale and Winterhold. Skald the Elder and Korir had few places they and their entourages could go after their holds were taken. They took lodging in the Palace of Kings, where Jeanne could join them for dinner. They didn't take too kindly to the idea of dining with a Breton.
It didn't matter; the war room was more important. While Ulfric accommodated his guests, Galmar, Jeanne and the rest of the officers that weren't dead or in the field planned the next move. Ultimately, they found there was little they could do. There weren't enough soldiers, and training more would take time, especially if they wanted to do it right this time. They'd have to weather the Legion's advances and hope reinforcements were sparing.
There was one option that Galmar knew Ulfric wouldn't approve of: finding allies. To the east, they could immediately seek the assistance of the Dunmer of what was left of Morrowind. To the west, they may find a new army with the Redguards of Hammerfell. Both would take time and accommodations Ulfric couldn't spare and comradery the Stormcloak regulars could show. Besides, there was little the Dunmer had in the way of spare military forces.
And so, the meetings in the war room descended into impromptu potlucks. Everybody brought something to eat and drink. Jeanne typically brought Horker loaf, as her coffers were the only ones that could stand the cost of bringing it southwards, and a bottle of Argonian bloodwine. Galmar brought chicken and mead. In fact, most people brought mead and something cheap and simple. This war would kill them with overeating if the Legion didn't get them first.
The miserable party this night heard someone enter the palace. They were expecting no one.
"Who's that?" Jeanne asked, not quite drunk, but a little tipsy.
Galmar shrugged. "We draw straws to find out who has to check," he suggested.
Jeanne looked around for a moment. "We don't have any straw," she stated.
"Well then, you have to check," the Nord warrior ordered.
Jeanne wandered out the war room to see who it was. The unexpected visitor was familiar, probably one of the strangers passing through Rorikstead. She walked right past the dinner table at the center of the room, not sitting down or taking a morsel. It was obvious to any that Ulfric was her person of interest, but not the reason why.
"Ah, Skathi," Ulfric remarked, "I assume you're still mad about the Jerall Mountains."
The stranger, Skathi, nodded. "You forced me to me your guide," she recounted, "But that's irrelevant to why I'm seeking you out."
The Jarl looked confused and Jeanne had a hand on her sword. "Then why are you here?" he inquired.
Skathi gave a devious smile. "Do you know the way ancient dragons greeted each other?" she asked in turn.
Ulfric shook his head. Perhaps that was mistake. The stranger shouted two unfamiliar words, and fire bellowed from her mouth upwards. It almost found purchase on the Jarl, but it was deliberately kept from leaving even as single hair singed. Jeanne and any able body with a weapon charged for threatening the Jarl's life.
"Hold," Ulfric ordered, "Let's talk about this." The crowd stopped and stepped back. "Hawksly, you too." And Jeanne kept her distance.
The adopted Nord wasn't certain what this was. She had seen this form of magic before out of Ulfric but wasn't certain as to what it was. She knew it was the magic of shouting, but not why it was particularly significant or how it was supposed to work. How did this woman learn the technique? Had she always had this ability? What made her special to Ulfric?
"I could've killed you," Skathi said in a hoarse voice, "but there are a few things I want out of you."
"I supposed I owe you a favor," Ulfric coyly remarked, "What do you want?"
The woman looked him dead in the eyes and asked, "Did you kill High King Torygg with your Voice?"
He nodded. Fair question. "Not entirely true," he stated, "though not entirely false either. You and I both know one can learn the Way of the Voice by studying with the Greybeards, given enough ambition and dedication. My shouting Torygg to the ground proved he had neither. However, it was my sword piercing his heart that killed him."
Jeanne was shocked. While slightly intoxicated, she understood enough to know that such a duel was illegitimate. Honorable combat meant they were given the same equipment and their skill would show who would lead, but that fails the moment you use an ability not being tested. Ulfric could Shout, Torygg couldn't. In a test of might, this was cheating. He was nothing more than a warlord.
"Alright," Skathi nodded, "Back to business. I have a message from the Greybeards."
He smirked. "It's about time they turned their gaze from the heavens, back to our bleeding homeland." He remarked, "What do they want?"
"They want to negotiate a truce until the dragon menace is dealt with," she stated.
A truce? "I have the greatest respect for the Greybeards, of course," Ulfric sighed, "And the dragon attacks are a growing plague. But the political situation is still delicate. Not all the Jarls are fully committed to supporting me as High King. I can't afford to appear weak. I can't agree to this unless Tullius himself will be there."
"Politics be damned," Skathi growled, "Alduin has returned!"
Ulfric's eyes went wide. "Alduin? The World-Eater of song and legend? If that's true," he paused in thought, "well, it changes the situation doesn't it? Even Tullius may be forced to talk sense in the face of such a threat."
Jeanne didn't know who Alduin was. She didn't know much about Nord legends, but if Ulfric was shaken by the reality of its return, it must be important. A truce may yet be possible.
"So, you'll come to the peace council?" Skathi inquired.
"Yes," the Jarl said grimly, "I'll give Tullius one more chance to quit Skyrim with his tail between his legs."
With that, the stranger left the palace with pride. Jeanne would have to prepare for a truce. It may give them time to rebuild their forces, but the same went for the Legion. Hopefully, a few things could be taken from the negotiation table that would give them the edge when the war turned hot again. And hopefully, someone would tell her who this Skathi was.
It had come to this. Both Stormcloaks and Imperials had agreed to this meeting. At High Hrothgar, they put their differences aside long enough to discuss the possibility of peace. If not for Skyrim, then for the sake of Tamriel or may Alduin devour the world. Skathi would celebrate this much, but she knew this was just a pebble compared to the boulder of negotiations.
To the right and left of the temple, Stormcloak and Legion soldiers stood vigil. When the Dragonborn approached, their attention shifted to her, perhaps looking for any sign of loyalty. They would find none. Skathi had picked up an outfit in Solitude she was told was neutral to the trappings of either side in the war. Neither red, nor blue, neither rich or poor, neither Nordic nor Imperial fashion. She wasn't certain how, but she wasn't an expert on clothes.
Entering the temple, she was faced with Arngeir. He was reluctant to host the party, seeing it as overstepping the Greybeards' authority. However, he had to admit this was a necessary step in defeating Alduin, so would hold this council. He still seemed uncomfortable with this situation.
"So, you've done it," Arngeir remarked, "The men of violence are gathered here, in these halls whose very stones are dedicated to peace." He sighed, "I should not have agreed to host this council. The Greybeards have no business involving themselves in such matters."
"Don't worry. I'll get them to agree to peace," Skathi replied, trying to believe it herself.
"Peace? I doubt it," he retorted, "They may put their weapons down for a moment, but only to gather strength for the next bloodletting. They are not yet tired of war. Far from it.
And he chuckled, as though he remembered a joke. "Do you know the ancient Nord word for war?" he mused, "'Season unending.' So, it has proved."
And out from the entrance was two people Skathi had honestly forgotten about. The Blades, Delphine and Esbern. Of all people to come here, they were probably the worst ones. They probably got past with that 'friends of the Dragonborn' status, but they surely weren't here to talk. They were probably here to assassinate one of the parties because they didn't think dragons were real.
"So. Arngeir, is it?" Delphine asked, "You know why we're here. Are you going to let us in or not?"
"You were not invited here," Arngeir growled, "You are not welcome here."
"We have as much right to be at this council as all of you," she replied, "More, actually, since we were the ones that put the Dragonborn on this path."
"Were you?" Arngeir snarked, "The hubris of the Blades truly knows no bounds."
Esbern rolled his eyes and interjected, "Delphine, we're not here to rehearse old grudges. The matter at hand is urgent. Alduin must be stopped. You wouldn't have called this council if you didn't agree." He continued, "We know a great deal about the situation and the threat that Alduin poses to us all. You need us here if you want this council to succeed."
Arngeir thought about for a moment and nodded as they even doing that was a crime worthy of death. "Very well. You may enter," he reluctantly stated.
Skathi approached the speaking monk and whispered, "If they're a threat, do what you wish with them."
The council didn't get off to a good start. Elenwen, the Thalmor ambassador, had wormed her way into the Imperial delegation. Ulfric refused to have her at the table, but she claimed she was only here to observe if anything violated the White-Gold Concordant. Skathi argued General Tullius was surely more than capable of fulfilling that role and she was just redundant, so she made to leave.
From then on, Skathi's role in this was to either say yay or nay when they couldn't agree. If something was suggested, but they couldn't agree about it, she would weigh in and it would somehow decide everything. She was barely paying attention through any of it. She was a hunter and warrior, not a politician.
Honestly though, Esbern was better at keeping the peace. He always reminded the delegates of their duty, to the people under their protection. That always made sure they held their tongue and got back on tract. Sometimes, he'd get lip from Ulfric or Tullius, he was quite an amazing in the art of speech. Skathi was just waiting for the dagger in the back.
Strangely, Jarl Elisif said nothing throughout. She was the widow of the late King Torygg, but not a single issue she spoke up on. This was the woman the Empire backed for monarch of an entire province! Surely, she would have an opinion. But no, she let Tullius dictate terms. The worrisome thought that she was only a puppet of the Empire was ever present in Skathi's mind.
By the end of it, there was a peace the Dragonborn only hoped would work. The Reach and the Rift traded hands, as strange as that sounds for a hold so deep in Stormcloak territory. Ulfric would be paying compensation to the victims of a massacre at Karthwasten, even if that had nothing to do with him. Mostly importantly, the war would be over for now. That was enough for now.
After the council was over, Skathi found Vignar. "Giving up Riften is a heavy price to pay for this truce, Dragonborn," he remarked, "I hope it was worth it." Given the new Jarl was going to be Maven Black-Briar, a name she once heard in association with crime in the city, that was a genuine concern.
"Jarl Vignar," Arngeir spoke up, "I assume you're familiar with the Dragonborn's plan?"
The Jarl frowned and nodded. "Yes, I'm ready to do my part," he answered, turning to Skathi, "Just say the word and my men will help you spring this trap."
"But the difficulty remains," the speaking monk remarked, "how to lure a dragon to Dragonsreach at all?"
Honestly, Skathi was just hoping to even have this chance and didn't figure out how it was supposed to play out. Maybe she should've planned something before all this played out. Then again, at least they had a truce.
"Ah," Esbern interjected, "I believe I can be of help here."
The old blade unfurled several scrolls with the stench of age on them. He continued, "While you were arranging this meeting, I was busy in the library of Sky Haven Temple. An unguessed trove of lost lore," he trailed off in admiration, "but the most important thing is that the Blades recorded many of the names of the dragons they slew."
Esbern took two papers in particularly. "Cross-referencing this with Delphine's map of dragon burial sites," he explained, "and I believe I've identified one of the dragons that Alduin has raised up."
Skathi frowned. "How does that help us?" she asked.
"Ah, don't you see?" Esbern replied, "The names of dragons are Words of Power, Shouts. By calling the dragon with the Voice, he will hear you wherever he might be."
"Why would he come when called?" she asked again.
Arngeir and Esbern shared a look as though they both shared exasperation with the Dragonborn's ignorance. "He's not compelled to," the old Blade explained, "but dragons are prideful by nature and loath to refuse a challenge. Your Voice is likely to intrigue this dragon, after your victory over Alduin. I think it very likely that he will be unable to resist investigating your call."
That sounded better than Skathi could've hoped. "So, what's this dragon's name?" she asked.
Esbern perked up, the old fogey. "Ah, indeed," he replied, "I'm no master of the Voice like these worthy gentlemen," gesturing toward the Greybeards, "but it is written here in this scroll." He held in up a recited, "Od – Ah – Viing. 'Winged Snow Hunter', as I read it."
Vignar nodded. "When I return to Whiterun, I'll get my men ready to help trap this dragon," he stated, on his way out the temple.
As Skathi also went to leave, Delphine caught her arm. "There's one more thing," she stated, "We know about Paarthurnax."
Skathi sighed. This was always going to be an issue. "Turns out he's a dragon," she explained, "But he helped me."
The Blade didn't seem upset. "That's fine. We needed his help," she replied, "Now we don't, and its long past time for him to pay for his crimes. And he's not just any dragon. He was the right hand of Alduin. He committed atrocities so infamous they are still remembered, thousands of years later.
"He needs to die," she continued, "He deserves to die. And it falls to you to kill him. Until he's dead," she shook her head, "well, I'm sorry, but we would dishonor our oaths as Blades if we continued to help you."
Skathi tore her arm away. "Like I care about your honor," she retorted.
As she passed Arngeir she whispered, "If they make it towards the yard, let the storm take them."