Chapter 34
Marcus, Iona and the boys made it to the Karthspire just as the sun dipped behind the western mountains of the Reach. Marcus gave the sentry the sign for non-aggression and identified himself, and stated his business at the camp.
"Dragonborn!" the girl exclaimed. "You've returned! Benor's letter made it to you then?"
"You must be Amalie?" Marcus queried. When the girl nodded, Marcus continued, "He mentioned you at the end of the letter. He seemed pretty impressed by your fighting skills."
"Then he's easily impressed," the girl sniffed, but she couldn't hide the blush that stained her cheeks.
Marcus smiled privately as he introduced Iona and the boys, then led them up the hill to formally greet Matriarch Maiara before heading into the Karthspire itself and on into Sky Haven Temple. Both boys were quietly respectful with the Matriarch, speaking only when spoken to, and even Iona remained silent, letting her Thane do the talking, though she kept a wary eye on the Hagraven. Word rushed ahead of them like leaves on the wind, and whispers followed them until they passed through and under the visage of Reman Cyrodiil at the entrance of the Temple.
"Wow!" Alesan breathed. "Just imagine if that thing fell down on your head!"
Iona snorted. "I'm trying not to think about just that very thing, young Alesan!"
"It's kind of creepy, isn't it?" Lars said nervously. "I mean, having him stare down at you as you walk under him?"
"I try not to think about that," Marcus rejoined. "Come on. Alduin's Wall is just up these stairs."
He had told them about it, of course, on the way out. He'd described it to them. But mere words couldn't do justice to the sheer majesty that was Alduin's Wall. Carved in minute detail, it depicted everything the ancient Akaviri knew about Alduin, his banishment from the ancient days, and his prophesized return.
While Iona and the boys spent time viewing the Wall, Marcus drifted over to Esbern's desk, his attention caught by more maps, charts and books than were here at his last visit. He picked up one of the books and opened the cover.
The Atlas of Dragons, it read. Flipping through it, he quickly realized it was an archive of every dragon known to the Blades. Familiar names jumped out at him: Mirmulnir – here spelled out as one word; Salohknir, Nahagliiv, Vuljotnaak. These were dragons reported as killed during the Dragon Wars, yet Marcus knew he'd slain them himself. Alduin must have raised them. There were other names he didn't recognize: Viinturuth, Odahviing, Ahbiilok. Some of these were declared dead, others as still alive and in hiding. The last name on the list made his blood run cold.
"Paarthurnax - The legendary lieutenant of Alduin in the Dragon War. He is now known to lair on the Throat of the World under the protection of the Greybeards of High Hrothgar. Master Araidh continues the established policy of avoiding direct confrontation with the Greybeards while waiting for an opportunity to exact justice upon him."
Marcus let the book drop from nerveless fingers. They knew. Esbern and Delphine knew about Paarthurnax. How could they not? And according to this account by Brother Mathnan – whoever the hell he was – they were only biding their time, waiting for an opportunity to kill the one dragon in all of Tamriel who had helped him get as far as he had.
Not if I have anything to say about it, he thought grimly. A call from his son forced him to paste a smile on his face.
"Is that supposed to be you, Pa?" Alesan asked, pointing to the figure of the Last Dragonborn, contending with Alduin at the far right side of the bas-relief.
"Well, as Esbern is fond of saying, it's all symbolic," Marcus replied, making an effort to keep the anger he felt towards the Blades from showing in his voice.
"What does that mean?" Lars asked.
"It means the ancient ones didn't know what the Last Dragonborn would look like," Iona interjected. "For all they knew, it could have turned out to be a woman."
It almost was, Marcus thought ironically. If Akatosh had decided I wasn't up to snuff.
"Where is everyone?" Iona asked now. She had thought, given what her Thane had told her about rebuilding the Order that the place would be teeming with life, but it seemed as silent as a tomb.
"They may be out back," Marcus guessed. "The forge and the training grounds are out there. We can head on up and take a look."
They made their way up the long curving stairs and out onto the rear courtyard. Marcus looked around. The forge area to his left was empty. Benor and Delphine were standing at the far end of the cobbled area, flanking Esbern. They were talking quietly. Or rather, Esbern was talking quietly. The others were listening respectfully. None of them noticed the Dragonborn and his entourage crossing the training grounds.
Halfway across the yard, everyone froze in their tracks. The hills around them echoed with the reverberating roar of a dragon as it swooped down the river valley from the north. Fear shot an icy spear right through Marcus. Alesan! Lars! They needed to get to safety!
"Iona!" he shouted at her. "Take the boys back inside, now! Stay with them!"
"At once, my Thane!" she confirmed, grabbing Lars by one arm and Alesan by the other and practically dragging them back to the Temple.
"I wanna stay and help my Dad!" Alesan howled.
"Not today!" she growled firmly, hauling the heavy doors open and pushing the boys inside. She dragged the doors closed behind her.
"Marcus!" Benor cried. "You sure know how to make an entrance!"
"Timing is everything, Benor!" Marcus grinned, drawing his swords. "JOOR ZAH FRUL!" he Shouted at the dragon – an ancient one, too, by the looks of it. Choking on its own Shout, the beast staggered in mid-air as the Thu'um took hold, dragging it heavily to the ground.
"Nid!" the ancient one bellowed. "Fos vokul los daar?"
"I'm gonna guess he didn't like that one," Benor grinned. "Gods, how I've missed this!" Bringing his greatsword up he swung with the ease of long practice, while Esbern launched Icy Spears and Delphine whirled like a daedra with her Akaviri blade. Marcus launched into his own flurry of feints and strikes with Dragonbane and the Blades katana, trying to target vital areas. But the ancient dragon shrugged off glancing blows and as soon as Dragonrend expired, it dragged itself back into the air.
Knocked off-balance by the buffeting wings, Marcus was unable to hit it with his Thu'um again as the great wyrm circled around for a strafing run.
"Incoming!" Benor roared, diving to one side as a gout of flame scorched the spot where he had just been standing. He quickly switched to his bow until Marcus could bring the beast down again.
Delphine and Esbern were faring better with their ranged arcane attacks, but they still didn't seem to be doing enough damage to the dragon.
"Meyye joor!" the ancient one mocked them. " Zu'u fen frist hin slen nol hin qeth."
I've got to learn the dragon language one of these days, Marcus thought. Aloud he called out, "Have you got a name, sweetheart? I just want to know what I should write down in my journal when I say I killed you today."
A column of fire was his answer for his impertinence, and he rolled to one side, landing lightly on his feet for a man clad in steel and leather, and sent Dragonrend towards his foe. A glancing blow this time, but it was enough. The wyrm was forced to land once more, falling victim to steel and spell.
And arrows. Distracted, Marcus followed the trajectory back and saw Alesan, Lars and Iona shooting from just inside the opened doors of the Temple. The ancient one saw his opening and snapped at Marcus. Once more he felt the painful crush of powerful jaws, felt the puncture of dragon teeth ripping through the armor. It wasn't as bad this time. Not like it was in Blackreach, but it still hurt, and he felt blood soaking his cuirass.
Growling in satisfaction, the dragon shook him before flinging him to one side. The Blades sword went in one direction and Dragonbane went in the other. Marcus landed hard on the cobbles, the wind knocked out of him. With no breath, he couldn't Shout.
"NO!" he heard Alesan scream. The sound galvanized him as nothing else could do, and he rolled himself across the training grounds in the direction of the practice dummies while Benor, Esbern and Delphine renewed their efforts to distract the dragon and give the Dragonborn a chance to get back on his feet.
Dazed and bruised, with blood pumping out of his puncture wounds, Marcus staggered to an upright position and fired off a fast healing spell. Thank you, Tamsyn! he sent up in gratitude. He reached for his sword, only to realize it wasn't there. Damn!
Casting about quickly with his eyes, Marcus saw Dragonbane sticking point-first between the cobbles five feet away. The Blades sword was nowhere to be seen. He lunged for the Akaviri blade before the dragon could turn in the tight space to confront him. Just as his hand closed on the grip he heard the dragon roar one last time.
"Nid! Bormah! Fahvos lost hi vodein zey?"
Damn! Benor or one of the others must have gotten in the last blow. Marcus felt his rage build and made a concerted effort to diffuse it. He knew he shouldn't begrudge them their small victory, but he did have the blood of a dragon, after all, and he viewed every kill as his own. He calmed himself as the soul spewed forth and entered into him, the ancient one struggling briefly before settling into a corner of his mind.
When he opened his eyes he saw Benor, Esbern, and Delphine smiling proudly at him, though there was a guarded look in Delphine's eyes. Behind him he heard Lars and Alesan whooping it up, and Iona patting both the boys on their shoulders.
"That was nice shooting, boys," she said warmly. "I knew you could do it!"
"Iona?" Marcus raised his eyebrows as well as his voice.
"Wasn't me who got the last blow in," Benor grinned. He gestured to the front of the beast where two steel arrows were lodged in the eye sockets.
"Alesan? Lars? Are these your arrows?" Fatherly pride won out over dragon ire, and Marcus found himself beaming in approval.
"They are, Pa!" Alesan shouted, jumping about in excitement. He could barely contain himself. "I did like you said. I kept calm and waited for an opening, and then shot where his head would be. Me and Lars both!"
"'Lars and I'," Marcus corrected automatically, scooping both boys into a bear hug. "I'm proud of both of you! You did well!"
"I can't believe we killed a dragon!" Lars cried, wriggling free and doing an impromptu victory dance. Alesan joined him. "Braith's never gonna believe this!" the Redguard boy crowed.
"To be fair, it was nearly dead anyway," Delphine murmured, coming up behind Marcus.
"Let them have their glory," Marcus shushed her, while privately thinking, There's clearly not a motherly bone in her body.
Raising his voice, he called the boys over to introduce them to the Blades. They retired inside soon after, since the shadows were thickening into full dark, with Esbern already muttering out loud what could be done with the bones and scales left behind as he made his way back to the main hall and his books.
"What about the gold and stuff?" Benor asked, throwing a jerk of his head back to the skeleton. Every dragon had some kind of treasure inside it that didn't get consumed when the dragon immolated. Marcus could only assume it was the ghoulish remains of whomever the dragon had feasted upon last.
"I think our two young Dragonslayers should get a share, don't you?" Marcus asked, causing the boys' eyes to widen in delight.
"That's what I'm thinkin'," his friend agreed. "Maybe we could even make 'em honorary Blades – at least until they get older and decide if they wanna do it for real. Whaddayou think, Delph—I mean, Grand Master?"
Delphine stared at the two young faces lifted to hers with expressions akin to awe and worship. Delphine had never much cared for children. She'd certainly never had time for any when she was a young Blade herself, and now, in her fifties, she was glad she'd never had any of her own. Her life in hiding would have been far more difficult with a child in tow. Still, these boys were either related to the Dragonborn, or under his protection, she didn't know or care which. She wasn't sure why he'd brought them with him. It seemed a very risky and potentially dangerous thing to do, given what just occurred outside. And she wasn't comfortable with too many people knowing about Sky Haven Temple who weren't Reachfolk down at Karthspire camp, or living here in the Temple itself.
Still, there might be a way to ensure the boys didn't gab to the wrong person. Benor might just be on to something.
"I think we can find some way to show our appreciation to them for their efforts today," she nodded. "But if we make you honorary Blades," she addressed Alesan and Lars directly, "it means you are sworn to secrecy. You can't tell anyone about this place, understand? We have enemies out there who would love nothing better than to come here and wipe us all out."
"I won't tell a soul," Lars promised. Alesan echoed his friend. Delphine studied them solemnly for a long moment before finally nodding.
"Very well," she said sternly. "For now, go help Benor with the skeleton outside. It needs to be broken down, and the bones and scales need to be brought inside to Esbern."
"I'll help, too," Iona said, ushering the boys towards the door.
"If you find my other sword out there, could you bring it back in for me, please?" Marcus told her, and she nodded.
"Of course, Thane!"
"But it's dark out there!" Marcus heard Lars protest.
"We got lanterns and torches all around out there," Benor assured him. "You can help me get them lit, then we'll take care of the dragon…."
Their voices faded and Delphine turned to Marcus. "Dragonborn," she said stiffly, "we need to talk. Privately."
This was it. The meeting he had been dreading since he found The Atlas of Dragons on Esbern's desk. Marcus supposed he should be grateful Delphine requested a private meeting, handing the boys off to Benor before confronting him. A fine introduction to the Blades that would have been, and a nice impression that would have made, if she'd chosen to call him out the moment he arrived.
He followed her to a side chamber she had designated as her private office. Books, maps and schematics were scattered all over the place. A cot was shoved into one corner, and an alchemy lab and arcane enchanter dominated the other side of the room. It was not unlike her "secret" room at the Sleeping Giant, but without the training equipment.
"Sit down, Dragonborn," she ordered him. Marcus bristled at the preemptory tone in her voice, but held on to his patience. Now was not the time to lose control. Facing down Delphine was going to take all the tact and persuasion he could summon. He took the chair opposite her at the central desk.
"We know about Paarthurnax," she stated baldly, without preamble. Marcus didn't even pretend to misunderstand.
"That he's a dragon under the protection of the Greybeards," he nodded. "I know. He's been helping me."
"That's fine," Delphine said, her face tightening. Apparently she had expected to surprise him and he'd taken the wind out of her sails. Good. "We needed his help. Now we don't, and it's 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."
"By whom, Delphine?" Marcus countered. "This is the first I've ever heard of it. No one in my acquaintance even knew the Blades still existed, so who's been perpetuating these stories? Hmm? Any dragon tales I've heard and read about concerned Alduin, no one else. What's more, whatever Paarthurnax did took place – by your own admission – thousands of years ago. There is no one living today who suffered from his actions then, and he has been atoning for it ever since Alduin was banished into the time vortex by keeping watch, waiting for his return."
"He needs to die," Delphine said firmly. "He deserves to die. And it falls to you to kill him. Until he's dead... well, I'm sorry, but we would dishonor our oaths as Blades if we continued to help you."
"Now hold on a minute," Marcus frowned. "I was right there when you administered the Oath to Benor. There was nothing in there that said you were honor-bound to kill dragons – unless you were lying to us." He watched her face carefully, but she was prepared this time and showed no emotion. "The only thing I heard in there was that you were sworn to protect Tamriel from danger. And Paarthurnax is not a danger."
"He helped Alduin enslave our ancestors," she insisted adamantly. "He may have betrayed Alduin in the end, but that makes him worse, not better. We can't afford to give Paarthurnax the opportunity to betray us in turn, and return to his old master."
Marcus actually laughed out loud at that. "'Old master'?" he echoed in disbelief. "Delphine, listen to yourself. Do you realize how paranoid you sound?"
"That paranoia has kept me alive these last thirty years!" she snapped.
"To what point and purpose?" Marcus countered. "How's your quality of life been? Did you give yourself the chance to fall in love with anyone? Settle down and raise a family? No. You kept moving from place to place, didn't you? Never slept in the same bed twice, I'll bet, until you bought that inn, and that was only because enough time had passed that you felt the Thalmor had lost track of you. It's not dragons that you've been hiding from all this time, Delphine."
She opened her mouth to protest, but he didn't give her a chance and went on relentlessly. "You said the Blades were the original dragon-slayers. Fine, but what did they do when the dragons went away? You said they were sworn protectors of the Septim line of Emperors. I've read the stories of what happened to Uriel Septim the Seventh. Is that the level of protection you're offering me? If so, you can keep it. I'm better off looking after myself. You claim the Blades served the Dragonborn, but there hasn't been a Dragonborn in at least two hundred years, and the Penitus Occulatus guard the Emperor now – who isn't a Dragonborn, by the way. All you've done since I've met you is order me around and put me in danger while you stay safely hidden away, afraid of being discovered. The dragons are really just a recent development, and they're not as big a threat as what sent you running for cover in the first place."
"You don't think Alduin devouring the world is a bigger threat than the Thalmor?" she scoffed. "You're a fool, then, Dragonborn."
"Fine, then I'm a fool," he shrugged. "But I still believe the Thalmor are worse. If I die and Alduin succeeds, the world ends. That's it, game over; bring down the curtain. But if I defeat Alduin and the Thalmor remain, you all get to continue living in fear, under their rule, until they systematically wipe out every non-Altmer race on the planet. So you tell me, Delphine. Which is worse: to die and end up in nothingness, or to live on as slaves to a so-called 'master race'? Forgive me if I prefer to fight on. Can't you see we're on the same side? That we're of one mind about this? Let me worry about the dragons, and together, we can work on taking out the Thalmor."
"And if I refuse?" Delphine scowled, arms crossed in front of her. Her mouth was compressed to a thin line.
"Then I activate the Blood Seal on this place and shut you all in until I'm done with Alduin."
Delphine went several shades paler. "You wouldn't dare!" she whispered.
"Try me," he replied succinctly. "Set one foot on the Seven Thousand Steps while I'm gone and I'll find out, Delphine. Harm one scale on Paarthurnax's head, and I will raze Sky Haven Temple to the ground." He met her gaze steadily for a long moment while she wrestled with her thoughts. Then shrugging, he said in an off-hand manner, "Or, you can help me take out the Aldmeri Dominion. I'm going to do it anyway, but having your expertise at planning and logistics would be very helpful."
"You're serious about this?" she asked quietly, watching him.
"As a heart-attack, Delphine," Marcus answered solemnly. "They've already sent assassins after me and kidnapped my children. Not Alesan out there," he added. "It was shortly before I adopted him. But I won't take that lying down. They want a war with the Dragonborn? They've got one."
Delphine's eyes narrowed. "And your price for this is Paarthurnax's life," she guessed shrewdly.
"Paarthurnax," he nodded, "and any other dragon who decides to help me. If they betray me, I'll take their souls. I may have to make a few examples at first, but I'm sure the others will fall in line soon enough." It sounded arrogant even as he said it, and Marcus could only put it down to the dovah still stirring in the back of his mind.
"You're awfully confident for someone who has yet to defeat Alduin," Delphine said sourly.
"I'm planning ahead, Delphine," Marcus informed her. "Isn't that how you've survived, by keeping one step ahead of your opponent?"
Against her will a smile crept over her face. "So you were paying attention after all," she murmured. She stood then and paced the room. "I'm not sure I can get Esbern to agree to this," she prevaricated.
"You'll figure something out, Delphine," Marcus said confidently. "What are your options, after all? If you alienate me you lose more than you gain from it. I could be funneling recruits your way, to help you build this Order back up to its legendary prime. If we build up the Blades together, and focus on taking out the Thalmor, you get to avenge the death of every Blade who died on the Thirtieth of Frostfall. Insist on having things your way, and not only do you lose my support, you get to spend the rest of what's left of your life closeted up here with an old man and a starry-eyed Nord, hiding from every shadow."
"And just how do you plan to take out the Thalmor, if I may be so bold as to ask?" Delphine inquired. She wasn't quite able to keep the snide tone out of her voice, but Marcus decided to let that pass.
"I'm working on that. The key is an independent Reach, and a united Empire against the Aldmeri Dominion."
"An independent Reach?" Delphine whistled. "You really do aim high!"
"Go big or go home," Marcus smiled faintly, shrugging.
Delphine was silent for a long moment, and Marcus could almost hear the wheels turning in her head.
"You know the Jarls will never agree to it," she said finally, "especially Jarl Igmund. His father risked everything to regain the Reach after the Great War."
"Jarl Hrolfdir used guile and betrayal to get Markarth back," Marcus said succinctly. "He made promises he never should have made, and reneged on them when it was convenient. It was his short-sightedness that set up Skyrim for a Civil War in the first place."
"You're not telling me anything I don't know," Delphine said sarcastically. "The point I'm trying to make is, what do you, the Dragonborn, intend to do about it?"
"As I said, I'm working on it," Marcus admitted. "It's one of the reasons I'm hoping we can come to an amicable arrangement here, because regardless how we might feel about each other, you've got one of the keenest minds I've met since I came to Skyrim."
"I think I'll take that as the compliment it was apparently intended to be." Delphine returned a faint smile of her own, then blew out a breath. "Alright, let me talk to Esbern. I know he won't be happy about this at all, but I might be able to talk him around. I'll have him do some research, look into the old archives, and pull up everything we know about the Dominion. It won't be easy on him. He lost many friends that day…we both did." Her eyes were haunted by the shadows of the past.
"I know," Marcus said sympathetically. "But you know I wouldn't ask this if it wasn't important. I told you that the key to destroying the Dominion relied on an independent Reach and a united Empire?" He shot her a look to make sure she understood. When she nodded he added, "It also involves the cooperation of the dragons. If – when I kill Alduin, the rest will have to acknowledge that my Thu'um is stronger than theirs."
Delphine frowned. "How do you know they will?"
Marcus smiled smugly. "Paarthurnax told me."
The rest of their visit at Sky Haven Temple was easier after that. Delphine came up with an impromptu ceremony to induct Alesan and Lars into the Order as "Honorary Blades", and Esbern told them stories of the glory days of the Empire, when the Blades were honored and respected by all. Benor presented them with suits of Blades armor sized just right for each of them.
"I had to cut them down from a couple of the bigger suit in the armory," he told Marcus, as the boys eagerly wriggled into their new armor. "But I think they turned out alright."
"You've made friends for life," Marcus chuckled. He had to admit, the new armor made Alesan and Lars look taller and older than they were.
Benor and Marcus worked with the boys every day to improve their skills in combat, and took them down to the camp to introduce them to the Reachfolk. Benor spent considerable time with Amalie while the boys became more comfortable around the children at the camp.
"They're not like my Grandpa said at all!" Lars announced one evening at supper. "He said they were all savages that could barely put together a full sentence."
"You'll have to tell him he was wrong," Alesan said. "I like Rhaemir. He's really funny."
"Yeah, and did you see his bow? I could barely brace it, let alone pull it!" Lars exclaimed.
Alesan frowned. "I know. He said we were using baby bows." Then he brightened. "But I beat him in that foot race!"
Lars laughed. "Did you see his face when you gave him the head start and then passed him?"
"No!" Alesan grinned. "I was too busy running!"
"Sounds like you two have been enjoying your stay," Iona remarked.
"We sure have!" Lars enthused. "I can't wait until I'm old enough to come back and be a Blade for real!"
"Have you been having fun, Iona?" Alesan asked.
The Housecarl was silent, considering. "I wouldn't exactly call it fun," she admitted. "But it has been educational. I've learned a lot since arriving here."
"Have you made any decisions?" Marcus asked quietly, while Esbern launched into another tale of old for the boys.
"Not yet, Thane," she answered in the same low tone. "Becoming a Blade would be a life-long commitment, and part of me is torn, because I've sworn to protect you and yours."
"I understand completely, Iona," he said. "Just know that whatever decision you make, I'm fine with. I just wanted to give you the opportunity."
"And I thank you for the consideration, Thane," she replied. "I just haven't decided if this is the life for me or not."
"Understood," he nodded. "I won't put any pressure on you. Except to say that I think we should return home in a couple of days. We've been gone almost two weeks."
"I'll make up my mind before then, Thane," Iona assured him.
Esbern sought Marcus out soon after the boys had gone to bed that evening.
"I wanted to speak with you, Dragonborn," he said stiffly. "Delphine has told me something of your plans, and that it involves the dragons. I'd like you to be more specific, if you can, before I can give any consent to allowing Paarthurnax to get off without paying for his crimes."
Resentment reared its ugly head again, but Marcus squashed it down. He genuinely like Esbern, and knew that convincing the old man to let Paarthurnax live would go a long way towards making it easier to deal with Delphine.
"Alright, fair enough," he said, taking the seat Esbern offered and getting comfortable. "I'm hoping to build an air force."
Esbern blinked. "I'm not sure I understand."
So Marcus described his plan in as much detail as he felt Esbern would understand, which was as much as he himself had figured out.
"And you think the dragons will consent to this?" Esbern finally said.
"Not at first," Marcus admitted. "They'll take some convincing. But it's certainly something the Thalmor wouldn't anticipate."
"No indeed!" Esbern exclaimed. Then he chuckled. "I know I certainly wouldn't have thought of it! But tell me," he continued more soberly, "what's to prevent the dragons from attacking indiscriminately? You might tell them to attack one target; what if they refuse, or decide to go against your orders?"
"I'm the Dragonborn," Marcus said firmly. "When I defeat Alduin, they will acknowledge that I'm stronger than they are. Furthermore, without Alduin to raise them back from the dead, they'll know if they cross me they'll die permanently. There won't be any resurrections."
"I certainly hope you're right, Dragonborn," Esbern sighed. "And I certainly would like a chance to strike back at the Thalmor." He remained lost in memory for several moments before shaking his head. "Very well. If you are certain this will work, I will put my faith in you. It goes against everything I was taught to believe as a Blade, but I will give Paarthurnax clemency – as long as he remains loyal to you. If he betrays you, he's fair game."
"If he betrays me, I will kill him myself," Marcus promised solemnly, hoping it would not come to that.
Two days later they were gathered in the main hall, making their farewells. Alesan and Lars were genuinely sad to be leaving, and Benor – the old softie – was doing his best to keep a warm smile pasted on his face, even though Marcus knew his friend well enough to know it broke his heart to see them leaving.
Iona had her gear packed and ready to go.
"I've made up my mind, Thane," she told Marcus the day before. "I would very much like to be a Blade, if you are sure you have no further need of Honeyside. But I could not, in good conscience, allow you to return to Whiterun unaccompanied. There is the safety of the boys to consider."
"So you're coming back with us?" Marcus asked.
"Only to see you safely home," Iona replied. "Then I will return here to take up my new duties – if that's alright with you, Grand Master?" she added, turning to Delphine.
"We would be glad to have you with us, Iona," the older woman assured her. "If you'd like, I'll give you the Oath now and swear you in. Then my first command to you will be to escort the Dragonborn and his charges safely back to Whiterun."
Now, standing there in her new Blades armor, with an Akaviri katana strapped to her side, she looked completely different from the steel-clad Housecarl Marcus had grown used to. He was happy for her. She'd made her choice on her own, without any influence from him, and he was confident she would feel she was doing something more useful than to guard an empty house. He still intended to keep Honeyside – after all, he'd plunked down enough coin to obtain it – but perhaps he'd just keep it as a summer cottage, the way his parents had done when he was a boy.
The return trip to Whiterun was littered with minor skirmishes with the local wildlife, which the boys were handling well now. There was one hair-raising moment, however, when bandits attacked them on the road. Marcus used his Shouts, Iona her blade, and Alesan and Lars fended off their attackers with their bows before resorting to their swords. At one point, Alesan's sword was knocked from his hand. Before Marcus could get to him, the boy channeled a stream of frost with both hands smack into the brigand's face, staggering him back. Lars finished him off as Alesan scrambled to retrieve his sword.
"They're becoming quite the fighting team," Iona remarked to her Thane.
"That they are," Marcus grinned proudly. His work was far from done, but he had accomplished what he had set out to do, and was pleased with the results.
"I'll bet we could take on a giant!" Alesan exclaimed.
Okay, so maybe we need to work on humility next, Marcus thought wryly.
They made it safely back to Whiterun after that, and Idolaf and Alfhild were both grateful for the safe return of their son.
"He looks different," Alfhild remarked.
"It's the armor, Ma!" Lars exclaimed. "Isn't it great?" He strutted proudly between them, knowing Braith was mere yards away, watching him.
"It's more than that," Idolaf murmured to Marcus. "He looks…I dunno…older."
"Confidence will do that to you," Marcus replied, smiling. "You can be proud of your son, Idolaf. He handled the challenges he faced very well."
"Yeah!" Lars gushed. "We even killed a dragon, Als and me!" He smirked as he saw Braith's eyes widen in wonder and admiration. This might even make her forget about Farkas! He'd be willing to be Farkas hadn't killed a dragon!
"A dragon?" Idolaf and Alfhild turned to Marcus in horror.
Oh boy, he thought. I was kind of hoping that wouldn't come up. He smiled his most reassuring smile.
"They had help – a lot of help, in fact – but yes, they both struck the killing blows." At their continued shocked stares he pulled out the persuasive charm and replied, "They were never in any real danger. They shot with their bows from the doorway of the Temple where we were staying."
"Pa, I've decided I wanna be a Blade when I'm older!" Lars announced. "I've already got the armor, and Del—I mean, the Grand Master has already made me and Als honorary members!"
"'Als and me'," Alfhild corrected gently while Idolaf turned to Marcus again.
"Is this true?" he asked in disbelief.
"Every word," Marcus assured him. "I'm sure Lars will fill you in on all the details."
Shaking his head in wonder, Idolaf slowly extended his hand, and Marcus took the proffered grip. "You have my thanks, Dragonborn," he said simply. "Seeing Lars looking so sure of himself is something I never thought I'd see. I'm not so sure I want him joining the Blades when he's older, but…well…I guess that'll be up to him."
"He might grow out of it," Marcus assured the older Nord, "but if he doesn't, it's better to give him your support than to deny him the opportunity. We can only do just so much to raise them and hope they grow up right. At a certain point, they all have to make their own decisions. After all, we did."
Idolaf nodded, deep in thought. "I guess maybe I could put a good word in for my brother Jon with Father, then." At Marcus' quizzical look, he elaborated. "Jon wants to join the Bards' College in Solitude, to become a Skald. Father's against it, but Jon keeps hoping he'll change his mind."
"There's nothing wrong with being a Skald," Marcus said. "Some are born to perform heroic deeds, but there also needs to be those who can re-tell those deeds and pass them down to the next generation, or else we lose all the history we've ever made."
Idolaf nodded. "That's a good point. It might just sway Father. We'll see."
They parted then while the Battle-borns took their son home and Marcus retreated to Breezehome with Alesan in tow. The rest of the evening was spent very pleasantly as Marcus let Alesan tell his siblings of his adventures. The girls were suitably impressed, and even Blaise admitted he wished he'd been there.
"You'll get a chance to go, Blaise," Lucia told him. "Papa's going to give each of us a trip all by ourselves with him!"
"Yeah, you and Sofie told me," Blaise smiled. "But I don't think I want to go see the Blades. I mean, it was great that you were able to go, Al, but I'm not really interested in that."
"Where do you want to go with Papa?" Sofie asked.
Blaise considered. "Well, I think I'd like to go sailing again. My real Dad used to take me with him in our small boat up and down the coast before he started working with the merchant ships. I really liked it when it was just the two of us."
"I think we can definitely do that," Marcus approved. "Do you like to fish?"
"Yeah!" Blaise exclaimed happily. "I once caught a salmon that was almost as long as my arm!"
"Sketches, or it didn't happen," Sofie quipped. Blaise tossed a crumpled-up bit of paper at her, but he was grinning.
"I've got the house in Riften, Honeyside," Marcus said. "It sits right on the edge of Lake Honrich. You can fish off the pier if you want to. As soon as I've taken Lucia where she wants to go, we'll plan a trip there."
"Where do you want to go, Lu?" Alesan asked.
"I want to go to the Bards' College!" she announced, surprising no one. "I've been practicing my lute while you've been gone, Papa," she continued. "I'd really like to play for Master Viarmo again. Maybe something he hasn't heard before."
"That's gonna take some doing, Lu," Blaise said doubtfully. "Master Viarmo is an Altmer. He's been around a long time. I don't think there's a song in Skyrim he hasn't heard before."
"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that," Marcus grinned. "I know of one or two I'm sure he's never heard."
"Will you teach them to me, Papa?" Lucia asked excitedly. "I really want to play something new!"
"Tomorrow," he promised. "I can't write music, I can only play it, so you'll have to watch me carefully and copy what I do."
Lucia nodded and wriggled happily in her seat.
"What about you, Sofie?" Marcus asked now. "Where would you like me to take you?"
Sofie hesitated. Of all his children, she was the shyest and most reserved. Perhaps that's what endeared her to him the most. He wanted nothing more than to pull her out of her shell and show her the world.
"I think I'd like to go to the College of Winterhold," she said. "Miss Arcadia and Master Farengar told me that if I want to learn about magic, that's the place to go."
"I thought you wanted to be an alchemist?" Blaise asked.
"I did, at first," Sofie admitted. "But after meeting Miss Tamsyn – I mean, the Arch-Mage – I really think I'd like to study magic."
Marcus smiled at her warmly. "That's something I definitely can arrange," he told her. "Now it's way past your bedtimes, all of you. Get yourselves ready and I'll come look in on you shortly."
"Will you tell us a story, Papa?" Lucia begged.
"Not tonight, chica," he shook his head. "It's already late. Besides, how could I top Alesan's story?"
"Awww…" she pouted, but scurried off up the stairs after her sister.
Alesan was the last one to follow his siblings. He paused at the foot of the stairs and turned back to Marcus, wrapping his arms around his father's waist.
"Thanks, Pa!" he whispered.
"For what?" Marcus chuckled, bemused.
"For everything," Alesan said simply. "For making me part of the family, for being my Pa, and for taking me with you on your adventure."
Well, I didn't exactly plan for it to be an adventure.
"I love you, Pa!" the boy murmured into his chest. Marcus tightened his grip and gave him a peck of a kiss on the top of his head.
"I love you too, son," he whispered back. "Now get to bed!"
Making promises was one thing, Marcus realized. Keeping them would be something else entirely. And while he had every intention of honoring the promises he'd made to his children, Marcus knew that none of them could be kept unless he dealt with the larger issue of defeating Alduin. He still needed to trap a dragon, and right now, he was facing a very reluctant, skeptical Jarl Balgruuf over that very topic.
"I must have misheard you, Dragonborn," Balgruuf scowled. "I thought you asked me to help you trap a dragon in my palace."
"You know I wouldn't ask this unless it was important, Jarl," Marcus reasoned, keeping things formal while in front of the Jarl's court.
"Of course," Balgruuf replied guardedly. "You've already saved Whiterun from that dragon last fall. I owe you a great deal. But I don't understand. Why? Why let a dragon into the heart of my city when we've been working so hard to keep them out?"
"Because it's the only way to stop the dragons permanently," Marcus replied, throwing everything into his most persuasive voice. He had to get Balgruuf to agree to this. Tamsyn had already told him it was hopeless without either negotiating a peace treaty or taking sides in the Civil War, but he had to try. Other things had already happened which had been – according to Tamsyn – "outside the game", and he hoped this might be one of them. He wasn't that lucky.
"There must be another way," Jarl Balgruuf said firmly. "The risk to my people is too great."
Marcus sighed to himself. It was worth a shot. He pulled out his trump card. "It's worse than you realize," he told his Jarl. "Alduin has returned."
Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, direct descendant of Olaf One-Eye himself, went several shades paler. "Alduin?" he breathed. "The World-Eater himself?"
There was a ripple of excited, fear-laced murmuring that radiated throughout the gathered court. Whispers filled the hall to the rafters overhead with a hushed roar, silenced only when the Jarl spoke again.
"But…how can we fight him?" Balgruuf wondered, keeping his own personal fears in check. "Doesn't his return mean it's the end times?"
"Maybe so," Marcus admitted staunchly. "But I plan to go down fighting. What about you?"
Balgruuf seemed to rally. The confidence that emitted from the Dragonborn bolstered his own fading hope that perhaps all was not lost.
"No Nord could have said it better!" he approved. "I'll stand beside you, Dragonborn! Together we'll face whatever comes. Now, what's this nonsense about trapping a dragon in my palace?"
"I'll need to use the trap on your Great Porch," Marcus told him. "We'll catch a dragon the way Olaf One-Eye did and convince him to take me to Alduin." Marcus felt rather proud of that bold statement. He wouldn't even have known about the trap if Blaise hadn't told him. The boy was fascinated with every aspect of his adopted hometown, and had spent many hours with Frothar and Nelkir exploring Dragonsreach before he had taken up his apprenticeship. And invoking the Jarl's own ancestor, he felt, might encourage Balgruuf to want to attempt something daring enough for which the bards would remember him in the years to come.
But in spite of what many believed, Balgruuf was a patient, cautious man who genuinely cared about the people in his charge.
"I want to help you, Dragonborn," he said finally, after considering his options for several minutes. "And I will. But I need your help first."
Uh oh…here it comes.
"Ulfric and General Tullius are both just waiting for me to make a wrong move. Do you honestly think they will sit idle while a dragon is slaughtering my men and burning my city? No. I can't risk weakening the city while we are under the threat of enemy attack. I'm sorry, Marcus, my friend," he added with genuine regret, seeing the crestfallen look in the Dragonborn's eyes.
"It's alright," Marcus said, though he knew it wasn't. "I understand." And he truly did. Balgruuf would not risk the lives of his citizens on something so uncertain. "What if you didn't have to worry about an enemy attack?" he asked, not entirely sure yet how he would manage that. Tamsyn had warned him his options were few and far between.
Balgruuf considered this carefully. "Then," he replied slowly, "I would be happy to help you with this mad, dragon-trapping scheme of yours." He threw the Dragonborn a shrewd look. "But getting both sides to agree to a truce will be difficult at this point. The bitterness has gone too deep." It spoke volumes that Jarl Balgruuf had not automatically assumed he would join one side or the other.
Both men sat lost in thought for several moments before Balgruuf spoke again.
"Maybe…" he mused. "Hmm…I wonder….what of the Greybeards?"
"What about them?" Marcus asked, already guessing where this was leading.
"They are respected by all Nords," Balgruuf explained. "High Hrothgar is neutral territory. If the Greybeards were willing to host a peace council…then maybe Ulfric and Tullius would have to listen."
Marcus thought this over carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was sit across the table and hand over concessions to Ulfric Stormcloak. On the other hand, if he sided with the Empire, the war would go on, more people would die, and Alduin would feast on their souls in Sovngarde, making him that much stronger.
I'm between the devil and the deep blue sea, Marcus thought sourly. The proverbial 'rock and a hard place'. So which is worse?
Finally he gave a sigh. "I'll talk to Master Arngeir," he said finally. "Maybe I can persuade them to host the peace talks."
"Aye, Dragonborn," Balgruuf approved. "Maybe you can stop the dragons…and this war into the bargain!"
Marcus left Dragonsreach, then, and headed home. It was time to send a letter to Tamsyn and let her know how things stood. Perhaps she'd have some advice on how to work his way around this peace conference without giving up too much in the process.
Now that it came down to it, Marcus still wasn't completely sure he'd made the right decision. Conversations with Iona during their trip to Karthspire and back had made him question whether the Jarl of Windhelm was the monster most Imperials, and those who sided with them, would have him believe. The problem with a war of this kind, Marcus realized, was that it polarized each side. If you weren't for one side, then you must be for the other. He'd even heard one of Ulfric's men at the Palace of the Kings make that claim, when he was working with Jorleif to find and stop the Butcher.
"If he's not with us, he's against us."
It was that kind of rationale that had gotten his own country involved in a war it should never have entered. He hadn't hung around long enough to hear Ulfric's response to that remark. Perhaps now, looking back, he should have. He had been painting all the Stormcloaks with the same brush; he had been finding things to dislike about their leader. If he had any hope of successfully negotiating a peace treaty, he was going to have to stop thinking along those lines and find a common ground, or the council would fail before it began.
He supposed the first step towards normalizing his view of Ulfric Stormcloak was to focus on what he knew about the man from personal experience. There wasn't much to go on. They'd been prisoners of the Empire together, both slated to die on the chopping block. Alduin had, ironically enough, saved them both.
Ulfric was a commanding presence. He'd felt that even through his panic in the tower while the World-Eater rained death down upon them outside. The men and women who followed him did so because they believed he was right – that Skyrim should rule herself and be free from Imperial interference. It wasn't even about Talos worship, not really. Not at its core. It was the idea that the Empire, or those who dictated to the Empire, had no authority to revoke the laws, let along the faith of a sovereign Province. Skyrim might be part of the Empire, but until the death of High King Torygg, they had their own form of government.
And then there's that.
However good or bad a person Ulfric Stormcloak was, Marcus mused, the fact remained that he killed his liege lord. Ralof had told him during those first days in Riverwood that it had been a fair fight; that Ulfric had challenged Torygg's right to rule by trial of combat. How fair could it have been, though, since Ulfric knew Torygg couldn't use the Thu'um as he could? A fairer test would have been to fight the man without the Shouts. Did Ulfric go into the fight with premeditation, or did he, in the heat of combat, forget himself and use the tools at his disposal to win? Either way, it ended badly for all concerned. Torygg was dead, Ulfric was exiled to Windhelm, relegated to the position of leader of a rebellion against the Empire, Elisif was now the widowed Jarl of Solitude and Haafingar, and the country was torn apart by strife.
Marcus shook his head. Young Lars Battle-born was right. They should have been joining together to fight the ones who had instigated this mess in the first place. He sighed and sat down to write his letter.
"My dearest Tamsyn,
I hope this letter finds you well. I've been missing you terribly, and wishing you were here. The children send their greetings. I should mention I've added to my growing family. Knowing me as you do by now, I'm sure you've figured out it wouldn't be too long before I adopted Alesan. We had a really great bonding trip, which I won't spoil because he's written it out himself in the letter the children have share-written to you, which I've enclosed here.
By now you've probably heard about the failed coup attempt in Riften. Everyone has. What is this world coming to, I wonder? I can assure you, however, that any part I may have played in it was small, and not anywhere close to how the bards may tell it.
That big decision we talked about is here. I won't put too much here in this letter, except to say I could really use your insight in the matter. I'm leaving for the summit in the morning, so if you reply to this letter, send it care of Wilhelm at the Vilemyr, and he'll make sure it gets to me. Better still…come yourself, if you can. I have a promise to keep to you, to introduce you to a friend of mine there. Until I see you again, I'll leave you these few paraphrased words, which I pilfered from another bard of long ago and far away:
'Being apart ain't easy on this love affair. Two strangers who've learned to fall in love again. I get the joy of rediscovering you. Oh girl, would you stand by me? I'm forever yours, faithfully.' – Marcus."
[Author's Note: First off, I will say that the last few lines of Marcus' letter were paraphrased from "Faithfully" by Journey. It seemed to fit.
I wanted to give Marcus an opportunity to talk Delphine and Esbern around without burning any bridges behind him. But as Dragonborn, he also needed to remind them that they needed him more than he needed them. Quite honestly, in the game, once I dumped them off at Sky Haven Temple, I never went back, except on rare play-throughs when I recruited someone for them.
Notes on the dragon language:
"Nid! Fos vokul los daar?" – "No! What evil is this?"
"Meyye joor! Zu'u fen frist hin slen nol hin qeth." – "Foolish mortal! I will roast your flesh from your bones!"
"Nid! Bormah! Fahvos lost hi vodein zey?" – "No! Father! Why have you abandoned me?"
Next up is Season Unending, done "Marcus style", and we have a cameo from the new Thalmor Ambassador. Thanks for reading!]