A/N: Just a little writing progress update to start out with. As of now I have through chapter 21 completely written, and I'm working on 22, so that almost takes us all the way to August keeping with this schedule, and gets us almost halfway. Because I ended up so far ahead of where I thought I would be and because I am anticipating getting much farther once the semester has ended, I might switch back to weekly updates, but I don't want to get too far ahead of myself, so that's not a guarantee. That aside, there aren't really any notes for this one. You get a little peek at the timeline and where everybody's stories fit together, but that's nothing that needs to be explained. And I guess if you don't have any sort of Skyrim background and end up wondering what the hell is happening by the end of this chapter, that will be better explained soon. And with that, many thanks as always to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut, and reviews are appreciated.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin. Specifically, some of the dialogue in the middle was primarily written by someone who works for the former and tweaked by me.
Rating: M for brief strong language and minor violence.
Daenerys—Dany, he reminded himself once again—had been strangely quiet since they had left the barrow, even more so than she had been over the course of the past few days. Every so often, her eyes would wander to the pack on Stranger's saddle, heavy with the weight of the Dragonstone within. It almost seemed as though it had her under some sort of daze. The thought made Sandor more cautious than ever around the mysterious artifact.
They were ushered through the gates of Whiterun without question upon their return, and Sandor kept the satchel firmly at his side. Dany followed closely behind, her eyes hazy and her expression blank. He wondered briefly if her state had anything to do with the strange wall in the barrow's final chamber. For a moment, he had thought he had almost heard it…speaking, but as soon as she had approached, it grew silent, and she had hardly spoken a word since.
The sound of conversation greeted them as they approached Farengar's quarters and Sandor made a point to soften his footfalls in order to hear.
"You see," Farengar was saying, his voice raised in what sounded like excitement. "The terminology is clearly First Era, or even earlier! I'm convinced that this is a copy of a much older text, perhaps dating back to just after the Dragon War. If so, I could use this to cross-reference the names with other later texts."
The voice that replied was commanding, and belonged to a woman. "Good. I'm glad you're making progress. My employers are anxious to have some tangible answers. Time is running, Farengar; don't forget that. This isn't a theoretical question anymore. Dragons have come back."
Daenerys entered the room before him, her eyes meeting those of the woman behind the table as Farengar nodded enthusiastically and addressed her concerns, his gaze fixed firmly on the worn book that lay open between them.
"Yes, yes, don't worry. Although...the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable... Now, let me show you something else I found...very intriguing...ah, here it is. I think your employers may be interested in this as well. It seems to be—"
His companion cleared her throat loudly, her suspicious gaze falling on Sandor as he placed the satchel in Daenerys' outstretched hand and took his place beside the door.
"Farengar, you have visitors."
At that, he looked up, blinking a few times before his eyes cleared and a smile flickered briefly across his lips. "Ah, yes. Lady Targaryen. Back from Bleak Falls Barrow then? I have to say I'm relieved to see that you've survived. I wasn't looking forward to another altercation with Khal Drogo if it proved to be too dangerous."
Dany merely raised an eyebrow at that before reaching into the pouch and withdrawing the Dragonstone. Farengar's expression shifted as he caught sight of it, and he reached forward, taking it gingerly from her hands.
The woman at Farengar's side looked to the artifact and then back at Dany, her surprise evident on her features. "You went into Bleak Falls Barrow to retrieve this? Good work." Farengar moved to hand it to her, but she shook her head and turned back to the book. "Just send me a copy once you've deciphered it."
Frowning slightly, the court wizard nodded and opened his mouth to speak when the doors to the keep flew open with a bang. Sandor's hand traveled immediately to his sword and he stepped from the room just as Balgruuf rose from his throne. Irileth was similarly poised for attack. All eyes went to the guard that stood panting in the entry, his hands on his knees as he struggled to regain his breath.
"What is it?" the Jarl asked irritably, his brow furrowed with worry. "Speak, you fool."
The young man's eyes were panicked when his gaze rose and he nodded furiously, his voice cracking as he finally managed to speak. "My lord...there's...the western watchtower...a dragon!"
Irileth's sword left its sheath with impressive speed and she was nearly at the guard's side before Balgruuf had the chance to speak.
"Is it attacking the tower?"
The guard shook his head and Balgruuf visibly sagged with relief, though it was short lived.
"No, my lord. It was just circling overhead when I left. I've never ran so fast in my life...I thought it would come after me for sure. The other men are holding the watchtower, for now, but..." he trailed off and the Jarl nodded wearily.
"Good work, son. We'll handle it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest. You've certainly earned it."
Once the boy had left, Balgruuf turned to his housecarl. "Irileth, gather some guardsmen and get down there."
She nodded. "Yes, my lord."
He swore loudly and shook his head in defeat. "The Legion and those gods damned rebels are still bickering over my city and now we have a dragon that may destroy it before I even have the chance to choose a side."
As Irileth ran off, the Jarl turned to Sandor, and he hesitated for only a moment before speaking again. "There's no time to speak of rumors now. Whether what I've heard of you is true or not, I need your help, Clegane. Help Irileth kill this dragon before it attacks the city. Gods only know how many it would kill if it reached the walls."
Sandor nodded curtly. He knew that Balgruuf was a good man by all accounts, and a just one as well. If the Jarl decided that he was to answer for his crimes once the temporary threat had been taken care of, then so be it. He would see Ulfric's accusations for the farce that they were. Of that, Sandor had no doubt.
He was almost to the doors when he felt a hand on his arm, and he turned to see Daenerys standing behind him.
"I want to come with," she said earnestly.
Sandor shook his head firmly. "No. You hired me to protect you, girl, and that's what I intend to do. I won't be the one to tell your husband that his wife has been killed."
Her pale lavender eyes flashed at that and she responded with a determination that he realized would be foolish to argue with. "I will be going." For the first time since their meeting in Riverwood, her eyes were clear and bright; none of their previous daze remained. Finally, he nodded.
"Just stay back from the fighting. I won't carry your corpse all the way to Markarth."
They could hear the roar of the dragon as they ran from the keep, and enough of Whiterun's citizens had caught on to what was happening for a panicked few to block their path. Sandor pushed his way impatiently through them to the gates and down the road. He caught up with Irileth between the stables and the watchtower and she looked to him with gratitude.
"This isn't your fight, but I'm glad you're with us. I don't care what Stormcloak's said about you. You're a damned good fighter, deserter and rapist or no."
He nodded his thanks as they approached the watchtower before replying. "Whiterun may not be my home, but this fight is mine now, as it is every man, woman, and child's in Skyrim."
One of the guards stationed at the watchtower met them at its edge, but his words were unnecessary. "It already attacked, ser. Only two of us made it out alive, and only then because the beast disappeared again. It's only a matter of time before it returns."
What remained of the western watchtower was a pile of rock and smoldering ashes, charred bodies strewn across the ground, their skin still burning and releasing the rotten stench of death into the smoky air.
May the gods be damned, Sandor swore internally as he surveyed the damage. If this is the day I die, it seems I'll be burned once more.
Before he could change his mind and flee from the flames as he had at the Battle of the Sea of Ghosts, the ground trembled beneath them, and a dark shadow fell across the sky. The men that had followed them from the city drew their weapons, and Irileth picked up a bow from one of the fallen soldiers, drawing and knocking an arrow with ease.
"Stand your ground, men!" she cried. "Make every arrow count!"
Even as she spoke, the dragon landed atop the crumbling tower, opening its mouth and letting loose a stream of fire. Sandor could feel the heat of it beating against his face, and an uncontrollable terror rose in his chest as his memory flared with old sensations of pain and fear.
A volley of arrows flew through the air, and most found their target, tearing a cry of pain and hatred from the beast as it took to the air once more and circled overhead. The ground burned beneath it as it flew, obscuring the dark shape in the sky as it careened through the smoke. Finally, it landed once more, crawling across the scorched earth toward the soldiers that fought it.
Sandor could hear one man muttering a prayer, and the archers launched a second attack. The few men on the ground with swords looked to the dragon in fear, and it was only when Irileth dropped her bow and ran to meet it with her blade raised high that they began to move. Keeping away from the snapping of its jagged teeth, Sandor joined the charge.
Although its hide was thick, and scaly, their blades and arrows did their work, and before long, the beast's scales were spattered with its blood, and its attacks grew more desperate. Lunging forward with surprising speed, the dragon lifted a man with its teeth, and they could hear the snapping of his spine before he was tossed aside like a child's doll. Somewhere behind him, he heard someone retch, a green boy no doubt, likely in the midst of his first true battle.
Sandor's blade found its mark beneath the dragon's scales and he thrust it upward, piercing the skin beneath and tearing a shriek of agony from its gaping maw. In its pain, it neglected the soldiers that faced it, and with a sickening squelch, Irileth plunged her sword into the beast's eye.
The massive wings that had carried the dragon to the walls of Whiterun fell to the earth, sending a cloud of dust and ash into the air. Coughing, the soldiers withdrew, exhaustion and relief evident in equal measure on their soot-stained features. Sandor staggered away, leaving his sword where it remained lodged in the creature's side. The flames had begun to dwindle, and as he escaped their lingering heat, he glanced around to look for Daenerys.
She was no longer standing where she had been at the edge of the tower, and a quick glance around showed no sign of her. Quickly growing frustrated with his own neglect for her care, Sandor continued his search, halfheartedly glancing at the burned corpses and hoping he wouldn't find her among them.
Finally, he spotted her, walking slowly through the soldiers as they began to move their dead, collecting wayward arrows as they went. Satisfied, he turned away again to see Irileth moving toward him.
"You fought well, Clegane," she said, nodding her respect. "I'll be sure to tell the Jarl of your bravery, and see that you're rewarded for it."
He nodded and was about to acknowledge her killing blow when a sudden flash of light left them momentarily blinded. A moment later, one of the soldiers cried out.
"By the gods!"
Another followed soon after. "What's happening?"
Blinking the light from his eyes, Sandor turned, and what he saw before him was like no other experience he had ever seen or heard of. Daenerys stood at the dragon's side, her body doubled over in pain as the dragon's flesh seemed to melt from its bones. It burned as if on fire, though it gave off no heat, and a swirling light surrounded it, twisting itself through the creature's remains and seeking out the woman at its side.
She almost seemed to glow with the strange light as it soaked beneath her skin. Sandor moved toward her, but the light's last tendrils had faded before he reached her.
"Dany? What in Oblivion are you..." He trailed off as she turned to face him. Her eyes blazed fiercely, but there was fear and vulnerability in them and as he watched, her mouth opened to reply.
The voice that left her was her own, that much was apparent, but it carried loudly across the plains, and held a power that did not belong to the slight Breton that stood before them.
"Fus!"
The word itself held no discernible meaning, but as it tore from her lips, the ground shook, and the soldiers were knocked aside. The force of it threw Sandor to his back, and it was as he was struggling back to his feet that Dany collapsed, her body falling limply to the ground.
Stunned and confused, he stared at her, and the silence that followed was broken with a tone of reverent awe.
"By the gods...she's the Dragonborn."