A/N: Wheeew. I am SO sorry. I say that every time though. So I'm just gonna get out of the way and let you read. Enjoy peeps. Don't forget to review even though I don't deserve it i love you sorry bye.

Chapter 25

We lay in silence, stretched out to catch as much of the sun's warmth as we could. Paarthurnax had taken up his usual position atop the Word Wall and was silent in his contemplation. A few clouds drifted across the bright blue sky and I was comfortable. For a moment, I released my fear of the future and just enjoyed the moment.

My best friend was lying next to me, his wounds healing themselves as we rested, and I allowed myself to pretend that I wasn't the Dragonborn. That I was a normal Nord woman living a normal life. A life in which dragons were just legends and the world wasn't in mortal danger.

For just a second, I pictured myself standing outside Breezehome. A dark-haired, green-eyed girl was playing with an old gentle hound, and I was holding a swaddled bundle of a babe to my chest. I was smiling and laughing, not a trace of fear or strife to be seen. A normal life. Something that I wished for more and more every day.

I sighed and opened my eyes to reality. The familiar ache in my chest, born of longing for a life I would likely never have, flared up. I wiped a few tears from the corners of my eyes.

"It's not fair," I whispered. "Everyone dreams of being a hero. All I want is to be normal. To get married and have children and watch them grow and have children of their own. Why do I have to be the Dragonborn? What makes me so special?"

I hadn't expected an answer, but after a few moments Silas spoke, his gravelly voice quiet.

"Life is not often fair, Freya. Our destinies may take us far from the paths we would choose for ourselves, but only because we were chosen to do something greater. To be more than a housewife or a blacksmith or an innkeeper. The sooner we come to terms with what Fate has chosen for us, the better we will feel. Life is not fair, but it is still beautiful, and should not be taken for granted. You will not get another."

I knew life wasn't fair. I had known from the moment I had been arrested and taken to Helgen to be executed. I knew even before that, when my parents had been killed over a few leeks and cabbages. I knew when the Thieves Guild had taken me in as a starving child and tried to teach me to be like them. I knew it wasn't fair that I had stolen from people just like my parents, poor farmers scratching a living from the unforgiving earth.

I knew it wasn't fair, and yet I had to keep living. Even though I had wanted to give up, lie down, and not move again, something-or someone- had kept me going. One more day, a voice would whisper from the dark recesses of my mind. One more day. By the time I reached Helgen, trussed up like an animal, I was ready. I welcomed the thought of the executioner's axe. But Alduin had ruined it.

Sometimes I wondered if he knew that he had saved his greatest foe's life. If he had known, why didn't he kill me then? It wouldn't have been very hard. It made more sense that he didn't know, that he never realized he had come so close to ending the miserable life of the one chosen to be his doom.

I could have laughed at the thought. After Helgen, the voice had continued its chant in my head. With each step I took, the words one more day echoed across my thoughts. I had become so accustomed that I hadn't even noticed when I disappeared. I had tried to remember exactly the last time I had heard it. Whiterun, I had decided. The day I met Silas, the voice stopped.

I hadn't needed it. Since finding Silas, I didn't have a problem living. The lives I had taken, the companions I had lost, each day I felt guilty. I hadn't felt worthy of the title Dragonborn, or the honor and responsibility that came with it. Silas was the light in the darkness.

And I had ruined his life.

"I'm so sorry, Silas." I had apologized to him many times before, but no amount of my sorrow would give him his human body back.

"For what?" He asked just like he always did. Like I was innocent and deserved blame for nothing,

"You know," I told him. I sat up and gazed at him. He opened one slitted green eye and sighed.

"The fault is not yours, Freya. It is mine, and Mara's, though she was only answering my pleas."

I stared at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Silas was silent. His eye closed with a snick, and he sighed again. He lifted his head from the ground and focused a blazing emerald eye on me. After a moment, when I was becoming uncomfortable beneath the intensity of his stare, he spoke.

"What do you remember of the fight at Dragonbridge?"

"I… I…" Truthfully, I didn't remember much at all. Since Silas had taken on his new form, I hadn't had much time to think about what had happened. And I didn't really want to.

"I remember people screaming about a dragon. After that… It's dark, like I passed out. I remember waking up on my back, my armor full of holes. Speaking of armor, I still need to fix it." I poked a finger through one of the circular holes in the steel covering my abdomen. "I remember a circle of people, and you were, well…you."

Silas looked away out over the land, but his eyes were glazed and unfocused. He was looking, but not really seeing. When he spoke, his voice was strained.

"You were dying. The dragon had taken you in his teeth and was crushing the life out of you." He looked down, and his voice became soft. "When I finally dragged you away, you were covered in your own blood. I tried to heal you, but I couldn't stop the bleeding. I was losing you, and I was powerless to stop it.

So I prayed. I pleaded. I begged the gods to save you. To take my life instead of yours. But nothing happened. When I saw the soul coming, I thought that it might heal you. When it came to me, I knew I'd lost you. That I had failed to protect the person most valuable to the people of Tamriel. The person most valuable to me." He met my eyes for the briefest of moments.

"You can't imagine how relieved I was to see you when I woke up. I wondered why I was still alive, though I figured out soon enough. I was angry at first, but it faded. You're alive, and that's what matters. It's not your fault, Freya. It is mine."

I was speechless. Silas was willing to trade his life for mine. I had been dying, and he had saved me. He and whichever gods cared enough to save their people.

I was trying to form a reply when I heard my name being called. Arngeir was standing at the end of the path. He and Paarthurnax shared a nod in greeting, and then Arngeir turned to me.

"Dragonborn. There is a courier for you. He comes bearing a message from Jarl Balgruuf, in Whiterun."

My heart stopped beating.