Here, There, Everywhere Be Dragons

by nodeerskulls

Far away from Rorikstead lies a world of adventure and thrills. The road from farmer to Dovahkiin is long and winding, but Amina's determined to walk it. Chasing dragons, killing dragons, fleeing from dragons…everywhere, including in herself, be dragons.

14. Dragon's Horn

In her dream, they were kissing. He took her lips in his and nipped and sucked gently at the bottom one, begging for access. She smiled, and his tongue snaked inside her mouth as he pulled her tighter in his arms. He was warm and smelled of Whiterun's plains, of embers and of home, of the ale in Jorvaskrr and a smell all of his own, and he was hers. By the gods, but he was good at this – she moaned into his mouth as his hands roamed her body, leaving behind a trail of fire and sensation over her clothes. His mouth moved to her neck, biting and licking down towards her shoulders, laying a kiss on Kyne's mark. His fingers started undoing the laces in her shirt, exposing her flesh to the wind and the sky. She was star-struck as he again took her mouth in his, one hand tracing the small of her back, cupping her buttocks, the other caressing her shoulder, down towards her breast. She inhaled sharply when he bit her lip, and she tasted blood…

Only then did she look into his eyes. They were those of the wolf. And were his hands had lain was a trail of blood and scars.

She woke up screaming.

-xx-

Amina crumpled up the note in her hand and tried very hard not to explode in anger. All that dungeon trekking, draugr trampling and skeever skewering was for nothing! No horn, not even a proper explanation, just a note that looked freshly written. She opened the note again, smoothing out the wrinkles with a trembling hand, just to make sure it was real, that someone had dared to-

She screamed in frustration. Who knows if this person was friend or foe?! And how dare they interfere with the affairs of the Greybeards, with the affairs of the Dragonborn?! She stopped her train of thought, and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. It was in that moment, she realised, that greater power brings greater hubris. She'd never thought herself as the Dragonborn before, not actively, and never demanded the respect for it, but now she found herself angry that someone dared to play her like a puppet, insulting her Masters in the process with their machinations.

One deep breath. One shallow. In the dust and cobwebs of Usteengrav, near the hand of Jurgen Windcaller, Amina sat on her knees to meditate, to control the storm within, her anger. Her mind stilled, and she was then suddenly afraid of her own temper, of her own pride, so alike to a dragon's now. It was true, then, what Vilkas said when learning his foreign languages: the way to understand, and become more like a people is to learn their language. What happens then if you learn the language of dragons? Amina shuddered, and stepped up.

'Thank God for the Greybeard's meditation technique' she whispered, and caressed the statue of Jurgen Windcaller's hand reverently, as if it were a father. Then: 'Couldn't you have come back to life as a wraith or something and stopped those meddlers from stealing your horn, huh? Some kind of protector you are. I bet you're having a laugh from Sovngarde.'

She then headed back to Morthal for some sleep at the inn. The guards greeted her jovially with a "Welcome back, my Thane!" and she smiled. It was good to feel appreciated. And now the people of Morthal could be proud of her, proud that their Thane was the Dragonborn, now in control (more or less) of her powers. She didn't tell them that, however, but the shame of being unworthy as Thane had shrugged off her shoulders, and it was a relief.

-xx-

Whiterun was different, and she felt an ache in her chest. Not much different, since not a lot of time had passed, but significantly enough that she noticed it with every step. Perhaps it was just how Whiterun was in the summer, alive with a sweet breeze, with flowers and leaves everywhere, with new banners and cleaner roads.

She first found Erik at Carlotta's stall, playing with Mila and telling her stories of his advantures. Carlotta regarded him with a fondness Amina hadn't seen before, something deeper than friendship, and when Carlotta crouched next to them in the dirt and kissed Mila's forehead and Erik's lips, Amina smiled. Now that was something she could come home to, happiness and good news. Erik saw her first, and jumped through the crowd. He hugged her fiercely, sweeping her off her feet and circling her around as if she weighed nothing.

"Cousin! I trust monkhood has treated you well?"

Amina laughed. "And I see you've been anything but a monk! When are you going to get married and make Carlotta a happy woman, huh?"

Erik smiled so brightly that it threatened to break his face in half.

"I proposed yesterday. And well, we'll be getting married next month. You are coming, are you not?"

"Of course I'm coming, you needen't even ask! Congratulations, cousin. I'm happy for you, I truly am. You two deserve each other, you're good people. Can I help with anything? Wedding preparations and the such?"

"No, we're handling it all ourselves. With the help of little Mila, of course." Mila came up to him and hugged him, and they exchanged a look that spelled of mischief.

"Ah, so I take it you're not up for some adventuring, eh?"

"Not particularly, but I know of a certain friend of ours who'd join you on a valiant quest or two."

"Vilkas? Eh, you're right. I could ask him. He did write me he's been going insane with research and whelps and what not."

"What, no calling him names and saying you'd rather die?"

She shrugged. "I guess there could be worse things than adventuring with Vilkas. And he is skilled."

Carlotta and Erik exchanged a look.

"What?"

"You've missed him, eh?"

"Maybe a tad. If only because I had no one to train with."

-xx-

The Tongues at Red Mountain went away humbled

Jurgen Windcaller began His Seven Year Meditation

To understand how Strong Voices could fail

No matter how much Vilkas had demanded answers from Jergen, there had been none. Jergen seemed as unknowing of the reasons he left as his two sons, or was unwilling to tell anything about it. It soon came to blows when Vilkas, in a fit of rage, lashed out at the other man by jumping over the table and kicking him right in the chest. Farkas grabbed his brother by his arms, overpowering him, and tossed him back into his room while Vilkas spluttered and growled and screamed at Jergen that he should've never come back, that he was filth, lower than filth, the worst of mutts, that he had no decency for coming back, and other choice words. When Farkas closed the door in his brother's face and returned to the table, where Jergen was watching everything with mild amusement, he could steal hear his brother's enraged screams as he was thrashing his room.

Farkas sat down and crossed his arms in front of his chest, staring at his father. Jergen smirked.

"I assume it's your turn to interrogate me this time? You have been awfully patient."

"You've been here for three days, father. I like you being here. But why?"

"What makes you think I'm going to tell you what I've not told your brother, pup?"

Farkas smirked. "I've always been your favourite."

Jergen laughed. "Picked up on that, did you?"

"Yes. Vilkas did too. We saw it early. This is why he's angrier at you than I am. That, and you not coming back. So tell me, father. Before you go."

"How are you so sure I won't stay, this time?"

"You won't. I am not as smart as my brother with books. But I'm better than him concerning people."

"Aye, true that, son. Your brother's always been a man of letters, while you're better suited reading a man's heart."

Farkas nodded. "That's why you're going to tell me. And not him. Because I'm the favourite son. And because you've not come here just to leave without saying anything. You're here because you want to say something."

Jergen swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down in discomfort. "In truth, yes. I've found something in my travels…that concerns the both of you."

"Else you would've not come?"

Jergen nodded. "You're grown men. You didn't need me any more, and I was content with travelling. I put aside years of my life raising you and loving you, but I needed my freedom back. Such is the nature of my beast. While Vilkas' is moody and aggressive, and yours relaxed and permissive, mine is filled with wanderlust."

"You could've said goodbye."

"I could've."

Farkas frowned, but kept his gaze steady. Bitter disappointment rose in his throat, threatening to spill over into tears. But he swallowed and not so subtly wiped at his eyes.

"Don't cry, son, you're a man grown by now."

"So what? Men can cry too. It's normal when you're sad and disappointed. Now just tell me why you're here so you can leave sooner. Me and my brother don't need this."

"Fine. I see you are still as soft as ever. Nonetheless, here is the reason I came here for." Jergen pushed forward an envelope. Farkas teared it up clumsily, ripping off a corner of its contents accidentally. It was an address, a map, and some names. The map depicted the village of Rorikstead, Amina's home, and a house right at the outskirts of it marked by a big red X.

"What's this?"

"When I came back to Skyrim I stopped in Markarth, and then had to make a delivery to Rorikstead. There, I found an old couple that invited me in for canis root tea and a sweet roll or two. Good folk, gentle and kind. We started talking, and lo and behold…their son and daughter-in-law went missing a few years ago, when they were coming to visit from their farm. Their son had two boys, who also went missing."

"What's that got to do with us?"

"They went missing at the same time when I found you two. The two sons were also called Vilkas and Farkas. I think these people might be your grandparents."

Vilkas' noises of destruction stopped abruptly. Farkas could then hear his heartbeat, like a bird fluttering in a cage, strong and loud like a drum through Jorvaskrr. Farkas was aware that his brother thought of his parents more often than he did, and would often tell Farkas of what memories he could grasp of them. They would whisper in the night of basket weaving, and lute playing, and the tall fields surrounding their farm; disjointed memories that they tried to keep alive by turning them over again and again in their hands like a rough rock, until they left out all the edges and found the commonalities and out came a diamond, a version of the memory they could be sure it was true because it matched what they both said.

Farkas drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

The serving girl, Bree, came out of the kitchens with breakfast. Farkas looked at her and smiled, grateful that she thought of bringing food so early in the mornings, and just for them. She blushed prettily, and fumbled with the plates, and after setting everything on the table, fumbled with her skirts and practically ran back to the kitchens, her long blonde braid like a snake in her wake.

"Thank you, Bree!" Farkas yelled after her, smiling like a puppy as she turned around and smiled at him before shutting the door to the kitchens.. Jergen smirked.

"She's sweet on you, she is."

Farkas shrugged. "Nah. She's skittish around everyone." Farkas took a huge bite of bread and one of cheese, suddenly aware of how hungry he was.

"These people, they might be…family?"

"Yes."

"How will they know if we're really family?"

Jergen took out two small necklaces from his breastpocket and handed them out to Farkas.

"I found these with you after…you know. I think their pattern might be some sort of family seal. Not that odd for farmers from those parts. I kept them with me…to remember you by in my travels."

Farkas was silent, but his hands were trembling with excitement.

"This is my gift to you, my sons. My way of making up for my absence. My bargain for your forgiveness when I leave again."

"Thank you, father."

Jergen smiled. "Now, I've done my duty. I should leave."

"So soon?"

"Yes. The distance calls again, and let me tell you, she's one demanding mistress."

The door was flung open, and both men turned towards it. Amina smiled widely at Farkas, and spread her arms. "Did you miss me, brother?". Farkas smiled back, and she ran towards him and into his arms, where he spun her round and round and round until she got dizzy and drowned in a fit of giggles.

Jergen smirked. "This one sweet on you, too, eh son?"

Farkas laughed and set Amina down. "Nah, Amina's sweet on Vilkas!"

Amina punched him in the gut. "I'm not sweet on anyone! Least of all your brother!"

Jergen laughed. "So, who might you be, little warrior? One of the whelps?"

"In a sense. I'm Amina Windborn, and you are…?"

"Jergen Baldersson."

"The Jergen?! Vilkas and Farkas' father?"

"Aye, the same. I see my fame precedes me."

"Of sorts. What brings you to Jorvaskrr, Jergen?"

"Just some news for my sons. And it given, I will take my leave."

Farkas looked like a kicked puppy, and Amina, picking up on it, commented:

"So soon? But we just met. And I'm eager about hearing about the man who raised my two favorite brothers."

Jergen laughed. "You're a good friend, Windborn, but dare I say it? Wind calls me. Perhaps we'll see each other again."

Farkas and Jergen hugged, and Vilkas emerged from his room.

"Going to say goodbye, son? Done with your tantrum?"

Vilkas sneered.

"Come on son, give me a hug. It may be the last you see of me."

Vilkas hugged him, and whispered in his ear: "The White take you, old man. You're awful."

Jergen laughed and patted his back. "That's my boy!"

Vilkas could feel tears stinging his eyes, but just sniffed.

-xx-

Jurgen Windcaller chose silence and returned

The 17 disputants could not shout Him down

Jurgen the Calm built His home on the Throat of the World

"Want to talk about it?" Amina asked, laying a hand on Vilkas's shoulder. It wasn't an easy feat, since they were on horseback, but touch always comforted her, and that was the only way she knew how to truly comfort.

"Later, Amina. You live in Rorikstead, right?"

She nodded, and he continued: "Would you like to join us, then? You could visit your parents once more and tell them of all of your exploits."

"They must miss you." Farkas added.

Amina nodded. "A lot, but they were both adventurers in their youth. In a way, I made them retire. Mom says I was a happy accident!"

Vilkas snorted and Farkas laughed outright. "Where are we headed again?" Farkas asked.

"To Riverwood." Vilkas supplied, tossing him the note from the mysterious "friend". "Read it."

Farkas scowled. "I don't like this."

"Neither do I," Amina said "But I've gotten used to being tossed around like a puppet. I've learned to deal with it."

"You shouldn't." said Vilkas. "Of course, in a way, our lives are a set path, but it branches manifold. You are able to make choices, however…"

"…they are restricted by the outcomes she wants, yes, yes brother, we both know your speech by now." Farkas laughed.

"Yes, Vilkas, let us be fatalistic in peace!" she laughed, almost toppling over her horse. Vilkas then stared at her, long and hard, and she felt flustered under his gaze.

"What is it, brother?" Farkas asked.

"Yes, Vilkas, what is it that you feel the need to rudely stare at me?"

"You…look different. But I can't quite place my finger on how." He then extended his hand towards her face, unsteady and moving up and down with the horse's gait, and ran it through her hair. "Yes…your hair is different. Didn't you keep it always in twin braids before?"

She grabbed at thick braid, and tried to smooth out the curls that threatened to form a halo around her head. "Well, yes…I changed it. I lost one of the strips and so I had to make do with one. …do you like it?"

"It suits you much better. You look like a woman now, not like a little girl playing warrior."

"Thank you."

They reached Riverwood in almost a day's time, and leaving their horses at the village stables they made their way inside the inn. The brothers were flanking Amina as if they were her personal bodyguards, and she reveled in the attention her two friends were giving her. She preened a little as the men in the inn looked at her, but failed to notice when they shrunk under Vilkas' glare. Farkas was, of course, amused by it all.

She made her way to one of the innkeepers, a woman named Delphine, and asked for the room in the attic. Of course, Amina grumbled to herself, there was no attic room; instead, they were ping ponged through several rooms, lest anyone followed them.

"So." Delphine drawled, hands on her hips and chin raised high "You're the Dragonborn I keep hearing about.". She looked directly at Farkas, sizing him up. "You look like a strong, capable warrior. Hope may not be lost just yet if you truly are who you say you are."

"Erm. I'm not. She is." He answered, and jutted a thumb towards Amina, who was shuffling awkwardly. Delphined paled.

"You..you are the Dragonborn?!"

"What?! Not what you expected?! I'll let you know I'm just as capable a warrior as these two!" Amina practically growled, her pride wounded. Vilkas put a hand on her shoulder, and whispered in her ear: "Hold it, little spitfire. Be composed. It makes a much better impression regarding your…draconic prowess. Don't you go acting like one of those small dogs that bark just to prove everyone they're tough.". Amina frowned.

"My apologies, my lady," she said "I am still getting used to this whole Dragonborn business, and it seems that the stronger I get the more my pride tends to get hurt."

Delphine shrugged. "It's alright. I just expected someone…taller. Nonetheless, we need to talk, but first…I think you're looking for this."

Amina looked at the horn thrust in her hands and had to admit that it was a thing of wonder. She could feel Vilkas' eyes on it as she held it up into the light. She traced every groove and model on the horn with her fingers, trying to convince herself that something so beautiful could exist, and Vilkas followed her hand's movement with his eyes, trying to commit the artefact to memory so that he may draw it later in his journal. She lowered it in front of them both, and his hands traced it too, their fingers touching in their awe. It seemed to tremble in the candlelight, like a jewel, shaped like a seashell, engraved with a thousand different motifs. Amina could swear that if she placed it at her ear she could hear the wind. Farkas spared it just a glance – it was just a horn, after all.

Delphine coughed. "If you're quite done...?"

They wiped their heads towards her, snapping from their trance, and followed her to another room, where she pulled a lever and showed them a secret door. There, she sat at a table, and said:

"I'd rather speak with you alone."

"They're my shield brothers, they stay."

"Do you trust them that much to place the fate of Skyrim in their hands?"

"I trust them so much that I would put my soul in a black gem and give them to them for safe keeping."

Vilkas regarded her, and then put up his hands. "We'll go, Amina. We're both thirsty and weary from the road, and you can tell us about your…Dragonborn business later."

"Yeah," Farkas supplied "We're not staying were we're not wanted. Not the Companion's way."

As they exited the room, they could hear Amina mutter "Traitors."

"The Greybeards seem to think you're the Dragonborn. I hope they're right. But I don't exactly trust whatever the Greybeards say."

"How dare you?! My masters ar-"

"Your masters are none, if you are Dragonborn. Especially not the Greybeards. They live to serve –you-, little girl, not the other way around. They sent you after the horn, right? I just handed you it. Does that make me Dragonborn, too?"

"A fetching quest to end training is not the same as being born a certain way. It certainly wasn't meant to be considered proof of me being Dragonborn. And I've had enough proof thrown my way that I'm of the Dragon's Blood."

Delphine smirked. "So, you are smarter than you look. Good. If you're truly Dragonborn, it will prove useful."

"What do you want from me?"

"I didn't go on all this trouble on a whim. I had to make sure it wasn't a Thalmor trap. I am not your enemy. I already gave you the horn. I'm actually trying to help you, but I need you to hear me out."

"Okay, I'm listening."

"Like I said in my note, I heard you might be Dragonborn."

"From whom?"

Delphine smirked. "I have my sources. I'm part of a group that has been looking for you…or well, for someone like you, for a long time. If you really are Dragonborn, that is. But before I tell you any more, I need to make sure you are who you say you are. I need to make sure I can trust you. What I know now is that the Greybeards think you are Dragonborn, else they would have not sent you for the horn; they're nothing if not predictable. With that note, I made sure you're not a Thalmor plant. But that doesn't mean you are trustworthy. "

"I think the question here is – can -I- trust you? But no matter, let's keep talking for now. Playing the trust game isn't going to get us anywhere, really. So…you said the Thalmor are after you?"

"Yes. We're very old enemies, and our feud goes way back…And if my suspicions are correct, they may have something to do with the dragons returning."

"Are you telling me they're practicing some sort of…draconic necromancy? Some elves just want to watch the world burn."

"Not necromancy…dragons don't…perceive time the way that mortals do, or that's what this return is showing us. They are, in a way, not mortal at all, it seems. They're coming back to life, even though their mortal shells have been killed off one by one by my predecessors."

"Let's say I understand what you're saying, but why am I important in all of this?"

"We remember what most don't. Sure, there are songs and poems and epic books written about the Dragonborn, but beyond the pretty words and the romanticizing there's a truth only we remember: that the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragonslayer. You are the only one that can kill a dragon permanently by devouring its soul."

Amina's complexion took a slightly green tinge to it. Delphine raised an eyebrow. "Not happy about your…dragonslaying prowess?"

"I'd rather not eat the soul of beings as if I'm some kind of avatar of death, but I can't quite help that, now can I?"

"But can you do it? Can you devour a dragon soul?"

"I reckon so, else all that lightshow after killing a dragon's just been for the giggles."

(in the other room, Vilkas and Farkas snorted in laughter.)

"We'll see if your cheek matches your strength. You'll certainly have the chance to prove it soon enough. I've found out where the next is set up to come back to life. Thanks to the Dragonstone you retrieved for Farengar I was able to - "

"You were there! In Farengar's office! You were the one with the bandits and the claw!"

"Obviously. Now, as I was saying… "

-xx-

"I still don't think we can trust her." Vilkas muttered while they followed Delphine to Kynesgrove.

"I think we can. You're paranoid, brother." Farkas said, and then turning towards Amina: "Push comes to shove, we'll just bash her head in."

Amina laughed. "True, but Vilkas is right though. All this secrecy coming from her is making me suspicious. At least I've got the horn back, but for all I know there could be an ambush in Kynesgrove."

Vilkas smirked "That is true, but since when such hubris, Amina? Were did the girl that said she didn't want to deal with anything Dragonborn go, hmm?"

"That girl got lost somewhere on the way to the Throat of The World and Arngeir's lessons. As you said, I'm a woman now. And I've learned that there's no point in avoiding destiny, or whatever this is. And if I did, Arngeir would shout me off the Throat. Too much training to let go to waste."

Vilkas put his hand on her shoulder and said nothing, just smiled at her. Farkas patted her on the back. "We're proud of you."

"If you're quite done, we've arrived. " Delphine said.

Their arrival hadn't gone unnoticed, however, as a woman came screaming their way.

"You're Companions, right?! You have to help us!"

Vilkas raised his hand in a placating gesture. "Tell us, what happened?"

"A dragon!"

The ground shook. A mighty roar broke the sky in half, and all Amina could see after was a wall of flames erupting behind Kynesgrove, spreading fast from wooden house to wooden house, ember jumping from haystack to haystack like fleas, eating everything in their path.

"This is no ordinary dragon…" she whispered, if only because of the amount of destruction it had brought with only one roar.

"There are ordinary dragons?"

She glared. " Now's not the time for sass, Vilkas."

Another roar, and Delphine sprung into a sprint. Then they hard it, a voice like rocks against each other, like the thunder and earthquake mixed together. She could see Vilkas' and Farkas' arm hair standing on end, deeply unsettled, and she herself paled.

The ground began to tremble, and from the stone circle in front of them, like a worm making its way from the earth, emerged a dragon. First only the bones, and then flesh began knitting itself on them in a shower of light and sparks and sinew, and Amina felt again like fainting.

And then they saw it, the dragon from Helgen, and Amina had to stifle a scream. She grabbed onto Vilkas' arm as she looked at the thing, steadying herself in her awe and terror. Before they could process its hellish appearance, it took off with a flap of wings that knocked them off their feet. Before it went, it regarded Amina briefly, and she could feel the waves of disgust coming from it.

It said "Sahloknir, krii daar joorre ahrk nizah Dovah" and she heard: "Sahloknir, kill these mortals and this false Dragon."

"By the gods…" Delphine whispered.

Amina collected herself and drew her bow. The dragon wasn't yet out of the earth, its wings still bone, and if she could deal with it before it was, all the better.

"Vilkas, I want you to cover me with a bow while I advance. Farkas, you're the heavy artillery. I want you to hit this lizard from the back while I take it out from the front."

"Any particular areas you want us to target?" Vilkas asked, already cocking an arrow at the same time as Amina.

"Eyes, snout, open mouth, and base of tail. And any of the joints. And if by some daedric strike of bad luck its wings grow in, I want them torn to pieces."

Vilkas nodded. For some reason, he felt no ire at her commanding him around. He felt, right then and there, that he could trust her to lead this small team to victory, to kill a dragon. They would adorn Jorvaskrr with its skull so that all may know of their feats, and she would lead them to it. Farkas was just thinking how fun it would be bringing down a dragon.

Amina ran towards the dragon, pelting it with two or three arrows at a time as it roared at her. Two of her arrows quickly hit her mark, and blinded the dragon. It roared in pain so loud that the ground shook, and began flapping its wings, not fully formed yet, but already able to lift him a meter off the ground.

"Farkas, Vilkas, the wings!" she yelled, and took out her own sword. She knew they would take it down, one wing each, and then she could slash it back down into its mound and into death's maw. The brothers sprung into action, one on the left and the other on the right, while Delphine covered them with her bow and arrow. Vilkas slashed at the dragon's left wing, and then jumping, grabbed right onto one of its claws. Using the moment, he swung himself up and through the knitting membrane, breaking it with its boot and eliciting another roar. The dragon thrashed around, which just lured him into Farkas' reach. Farkas swung his sledgehammer hard on its wing, and the sound of bone deafened him as he struck. Vilkas kicked at the wing he was riding, and then slashed at the shoulder joint. Blood sprayed up in the air like fireworks, and he grinned with all teeth, canines glinting in the light and covered in blood.

The dragon went down. The earth shook. The twins jumped off its wings, and Amina was pleased to see the dragon was now dragging itself on its belly like a snake, its wings bloody and limp. She grinned maniacally – they were a damn good team, and that dragon never stood a chance.

It shook and thrashed about like a snake, hitting the twins from the sides and sending them sprawling on the ground, and roared at her. She was advancing on it, one arrow at a time, one wound at a time, and she was reading her sword to cut off its tongue, to prevent it from shouting, or to jump on its scaly head and be done with it once and for all.

It growled, and said amidst bloody broken teeth: "Hi krif ni paaz, Dovahkiin! Fos moro los til ko sharing grah? Hi lost nid zin! Hi los ni dovah, hi los nunon kosmeyiik joor!"

"This isn't about honour or sharing battles, wyrm! It's about victory!"

"Everything is about honour in battle, you filthy joor! And you have none! You don't even dare answer in our tongue!"

"Not when there are lives on the line. And we'll see how much that tongue is yours when I'll cut it off!"

Farkas and Vilkas made to stand up, but Amina raised her hand in a stopping motion. "Thanks, boys, but this worm-wyrm is mine for today."

She ran towards the dragon, a breath of ice in front of her, encircling the dragon in ice spikes, caging it in. Her breath felt frosty on her tongue, like she had just chewed mint, but for others it looked like winter trapped between her jaws, frost settling on her lips. Vilkas thought it was the most impressive thing he'd ever seen in his life, someone breathing ice.

The dragon roared a gust of fire, melting the ice, but Amina just used that as a distraction. Jumping on top of a particularly thick icycle, she pushed forward and landed on its head. The dragon roared and thrashed, and she hung for dear life. She raised her scimitar, prepared to plunge it through its skull. It thrashed again, and she lost her footing, rolling down onto the ground and barely avoiding her maw closing against her head. Her eyes widened when she saw that her scimitar was nowhere in sight, flung away in some far off corner and out of reach. The dragon turned around in a split-second and hit her with its tail, knocking the wind out of her and sending her crashing on top of some rocks, spitting blood.

She just laughed like a mad woman. Vilkas and Farkas made a move, but Amina shouted "Don't you dare! He's mine." She practically growled. Vilkas looked at her face, at her maniacal grin, and his wolf stirred at the sight of her blood and ice smile. Her eyes glinted in the light, and he realised he was looking at a wild, wild thing. Then, he noticed: in her hand was one of the dragon's own teeth, one she knocked off earlier with her first strikes at its maw.

"Don't tell me she's going at it with a tooth?" Farkas said. "Brother, are you sure we shouldn't jump in?"

"By all means, this is folly. But I'm curious."

"She's gonna get killed!"

But Amina had no plan of getting killed.

"Come at me, wyrm!"

"Filthy joor!" the dragon roared, while lounging at her, like a snake striking at its prey, unaware of the mad glint in her eyes. It managed to bite her, closing its maw against her shoulder, but when it made to bite harder and sink its teeth in her flesh, he felt it, piercing, painful, wedging itself in its flesh. And Amina smiled, and plunged it deeper, and with it the dragon's teeth in her arm. They both screamed in pain, but Amina was also laughing, laughing, laughing, crying in pain, and there was blood to last a lifetime on the ground.

And then the dragon slumped to the ground, taking her with it, her shoulder still in its teeth. They looked into each other's eyes, and she could she the dragon's life force going out from them, light by light, until it closed them and exhaled loudly once. It caught on fire, brilliant, and Vilkas and Farkas ran towards it, fearful that Amina would be set ablaze with it. Embers were flying around, and its skin turned into smoke and ashy air, but Amina was untouched. Delphine stopped them, and motioned them to look. The dragon'sjaws slacked, and Amina's blood flowed freely on the ground, soaking her to the bone. And then Vilkas heard it: the hearbeat on the wind, loud like a drum in his ears, alien and potent, and a thousand lights enveloped the dragon, pulsing and beating to the rhythm he was hearing. And finally, Amina: enveloped in this light, her flesh knotting back and leaving behind scars of the puncture marks, but nothing more. There were only bones left of the dragon. He had never seen something so beautiful in his life.

Amina staggered to her feet, and grimaced at the blood caking her whole body. Vilkas' body trembled whole, calling to her, and in three strides he was in front of her, grasping her face in his hands.

"I've never seen something so beautiful and wild in my whole life." He whispered, awed. She smiled at him, her teeth still caked in blood and melting ice, and his wolf stirred. He grabbed the back of her neck and crushed her in his arms, hips lips on hers, devouring her. She moaned in his mouth and tangled her hands in his hair, relishing in the feel of his body against hers, the way he was holding her tight, his smell and his taste. She bit his lip and he snaked his tongue in her mouth, biting her tongue in turn. His hand went to her throat, massaging and holding, and she craned her neck up towards him more, a sign of submission.

Delphine coughed awkwardly. They broke apart, panting, and looking at each other wary, afraid, unsure of what they had just done.

"This never happened." Vilkas said, his voice trembling slightly.

Amina nodded vigorously, her cheeks scarlet. "Agreed."

Farkas just groaned.

"Now that you're quite done," Delphine said, "I reckon it's time for me to explain everything to you."

-xx—

For years all silent, the Greybeards spoke one name

Tiber Septim, stripling then, was summoned to Hrothgar

They blessed and named him Dovahkiin

The chant made her whole body vibrate, and the power of the words made her brains rattle in her skull. Vilkas and Farkas were waiting outside the monastery, plugs in their ears, and even they felt the trembles in the air, and their whole body shook trying to stay upright. The Greybeards were a storm of voices around her, loud and thunderous, and it felt like a rebirth, like she was shedding her mortal coil and ascending into something greater, bigger than Amina Windborn.

She is now Ysmir, Dragon of the North, a shard from Akatosh's own scabbard, Dragon sister and Dragon slayer, Companion and ruler. She is Dovahkiin.

She stops doubting, and starts believing.

-xx-

The Voice is worship

Follow the Inner path

Speak only in True Need

Author's note: I stole Salohkniir's death from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Should I be ashamed? Maybe. Am I? Not really J Sorry for the slow update, had exams to deal with, it was such a bother.