Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. Fair warning: the first half is even less for the kids than usual. Please be kind: I know it's a bad idea for an author to put too much of themselves in their work, but the front half is a combination of two of the best dates I've ever had.

Balgruuf declared a rest from labors until sunrise so all who could come might witness the relief of the city. Even those wounded who could be moved were brought out to celebrate. It might seem that the legionnaires should be left out in such an event, but this was not so. Many among the 9th Legion were recruited in Skyrim or even from Whiterun itself. Many therefore had family to greet them and even those who were from the other provinces found small difficulty finding people willing to host them. The story was similar among the Companions, though many of the remaining 323 (of them 80 severely wounded) were strangers to the city. Of my housecarls, Iona and Argis paired off to celebrate on their own and Lydia grabbed food and wine to bring to the wounded Farkas. It was a connection that I hadn't noticed, but was glad to see.

The most touching reunion of the many that evening was that of Morgan and Ghent. As I sat at my place on the wall near what was left of Warmaiden's smithy with Aela, I watched the petite Breton look eagerly for the towering Nord mage to come through the gates of the city. When she finally saw his distinctive cloak, she ran at him full speed, slowing briefly to slap him hard across the face before jumping on him and kissing him with the passion only seen in a long-separated lover.

"Blue's getting laid tonight," I commented to Aela as she leaned on my shoulder.

She slid a hand up the inside of my thigh and toyed with my belt buckle, "He's not the only one, Love."

I snaked an arm around her waist and squeezed a breast, "Mmm. Down by the wrecked bridge after the party?"

She didn't reply. I felt her lips teasing my ear and turned to look into her eyes. I returned her kiss and delighted in the taste of her mouth.

We broke away from the festivities early and brought a bottle of wine and a few blankets with us. There were no undamaged places in the city not filled with the wounded, so the revelry had spread outside the gates as people sought places without the smell of burned wood and thatch. We found a spot down by the remains of Morgan's bridge. We cleaned ourselves off, drank the wine, and embraced to celebrate the fact that we were alive and unhurt.

I rolled off her and wrapped my arm around her before kissing her gently. She shuffled into my arm and slid down slightly to rest her head on my chest. She never needs to say it, but I always have to:

"I love you too Aela," I whispered and trailed my hand on the skin of her back.

Aela and I returned hand-in-hand to Whiterun shortly after sunrise. The Legion had already assembled one of their portable forts in a flat space near the gates and many of the city's people had moved into the Stormcloak's abandoned tents. The cleanup work was already begun by folks motivated to have solid thatch over their heads by the time of the early autumn rains next month. Cart load after cart load of charred wood and ash was being conveyed out of the city. Prisoners of war and legionnaires were working side by side to gather the dead and dig a mass grave. The lightly wounded and children were being put to work combing the wreckage for anything that could be salvaged. The smiths and their apprentices were hard at work sorting and smelting recovered metal to make the nails, fittings, and tools that the city would be needing in the next few weeks.

I went up to Jorrvaskr to see to the sixty-three wounded Companions that remained too hurt to help the efforts outside. I used my Healing Hands spell on those who were on the verge of being able to get up and help with the effort. Most fell into that category, but some still required prolonged rest and a handful were beyond help. Most among these twenty-six were strangers, but two were good friends. Vilkas's broken leg would pull through and be ready to fight in a few months' time. His brave brother Farkas however, we feared losing an arm. The spear thrust had slid beneath the pauldron on his left side. I felt the bones in my hand dislocate while I held his in the light of Jorrvaskr's rear yard. A priest searched the wound for bits of metal and wood and dead flesh was cut away. The rest of the Companions were laid to rest on the Skyforge or sent home in urns if that was their wish. One fifth of the people who expected me to bring them glory and gold were dead.

But those funerals were days away. After Vilkas and Farkas passed out, I went up to Dragonsreach where Jarl Balgruuf and Legate Rikke were planning the days ahead with their advisers and officers. I was wearing my dragon scale armor again and was instantly recognized by the whole court.

Legate Rikke turned from the Jarl's table and saluted me. "Hail Harbinger of the Companions! Had General Tullius and I known who you were, we would have treated you with more consideration."

I returned the salute, "Hail Legate of the Valiant Ninth. Though the Legion owes me no honors. As a militia man of Kvatch's Watch, I was an auxiliary to the 25th Colovian, but I am a deactivated reservist and merit no consideration."

She smiled tightly at my modesty, "And yet here you are a knight of three cities in Skyrim and have men and women at your command."

"Will General Tullius still attend the Greybeards' peace summit?" I asked.

Legate Rikke nodded, "If you can convince Ulfric to attend, the general will come. But neither of us hold out hope for a lasting peace."

"One war at a time Legate," I said grimly, "I need to end this dragon crisis before there's no Skyrim left to fight for."

"So you're leaving for Windhelm now?" Jarl Balgruuf asked.

"Yes lord. Galmar's army was shattered in this battle. Ulfric will be desperate for time to recover. He'll see this truce as an opportunity."

"So he can fight all the harder," Rikke grumbled.

"I fully expect Ulfric to break faith the minute he thinks he has the strength to win," I admitted, "But without the dragons attacking villages and forts or ripping apart armies, you stand a chance of winning."

I'd originally depicted the play-by-play conceived of I&A having sex. It felt mechanical, awkward, and the bottom line is that I wasn't proud of the whole scene. I guess I prefer to depict my characters having sex the way cats do: You hear it, you see its results walking around, but you never actually see it.