The inside of High Hrothgar was every bit as dark and foreboding as Valkyrie had imagined, the only sources of light coming from lit braziers adorning the walls. As she and Serana followed Arngeir through the main entrance, down a narrow hallway that led into a large open room, she spied three more men, each dressed in the same attire as the old man, on opposite ends of the room in meditative positions. The other Greybeards, Valkyrie assumed, unable to be sure of what she was feeling. Nerves, almost definitely, but she had been experiencing that since she was summoned by these men. But she would have to figure out her own dispositions later, as Arngeir led her to the rest of the Greybeards, while Serana stayed back at the hallway.

"Gentlemen," the old man spoke, and the others stood up immediately, giving he and Valkyrie their full attention. "Our summoned has arrived." The other men bowed graciously, and Valkyrie did the same, although she became a bit more apprehensive when the Greybeards moved to form a circle around her. Arngeir clearly sensed this. "Do not worry," he said in a calm, gentle voice. "No harm will come to you here."

"Right," Valkyrie said. "Sorry."

"Now then, before we begin," the old man continued. "There are some formalities that must be seen to." Valkyrie simply nodded. "Tell us, how did you discover you were able to use the Voice?"

The Nord fell silent, looking back at Serana, who only shrugged. Were these old men really going to believe that she had learned this ancient power from a dragon? A beast of legend long since extinct? Then again, the fact that she was even here was a testament to just how strange her life had become. "Alright," she said, taking a deep breath. "This is going to sound crazy, but... some time ago, myself and Serana ventured into Oblivion." She motioned back to the vampire, who responded with a sarcastic wave of her hand. "We met a dragon. An actual, living, breathing dragon who was trapped there by a curse." The Greybeards nodded, as though they heard stories like this all the time, and Valkyrie continued. "We even managed to defeat him in combat. He rewarded us by saying that if I ever needed help, all I had to do was call his name from Tamriel."

"And so you did," Arngeir said. "I assume, at least."

"Yes," Valkyrie confirmed. "Fast forward some time, and we were both about to die at the hands of a powerful vampire who had blocked out the sun." She couldn't see the men's eyes from underneath their hoods, but could tell their were shocked by her story. "Yes, that was us," the younger Nord said, unable to stop herself from chuckling. "It was a last ditch effort, I didn't even expect anything to happen but... I yelled his name with everything I had, and there he was. Roasted the vampire alive and saved our necks. He explained a bit about what the Voice was, and how he was surprised I was able to use it, but was forced back to Oblivion before I could really learn anything."

"That..." the Greybeard seemed to struggle with his words. "That is quite a story."

"I understand if you don't believe me," Valkyrie said. "But that's what happened. Swear on my father's grave."

"I did not say we didn't believe you," Arngeir replied. "Just that it was an incredible tale." The younger Nord simply shrugged. "We shall see if you truly possess the gift. Tell your friend she may come. It won't hurt for her to learn some of our teachings as well."

Valkyrie didn't even have to say anything, as Serana gladly rushed to her side the moment the Greybeard had given his blessing. "Thank you again," the vampire said graciously, before turning to Valkyrie. "I feel like I'm more excited to be here than you are. Reminds me of being at the College." The Nord simply smirked and shook her head, as Arngeir simply stood patiently waiting for them to finish.

"Now then," the old man said. "Let us see how quickly you can learn." He inhaled deeply, before letting out a whisper.

"Fus..."

Arngeir's voice, much like the dragon's, or even Hermaeus Mora's, seemed to resonate within her. At her feet, the stone floor of the monastery began to crack, and into itself carved runes, much in the same style as the tablet outside. The language was unknown, yet Valkyrie found herself able to understand not only the word transcribed in front of her, but its meaning. "Fus..." she repeated. "Force..." her breathing began to grow heavier, unsure of what was happening, and she turned to Serana. "Are you seeing this?"

The vampire only bore the look of confusion. "I don't see anything."

"She is not trained in the Voice, young Valkyrie," Arngeir explained. "But you... you learn a new Word like a master."

"I'm so confused," Valkyrie said. "What just happened?"

The Greybeards all responded by leaving the circle, and proceeded to line themselves up in front of the Nord. "Let us taste of your Voice," Angeir said. "And all will be revealed."

"Are you sure?" she questioned. "I don't want to hurt you."

"We can withstand, I assure you," the old man said, with what was almost a smirk. "Now!"

Valkyrie closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as it seemed she had no other choice. She thought back to Castle Volkihar, how it took everything she had left to gather the strength to summon Durnehviir. She felt a rumble within her, a power waiting to be set free, and finally did as the Greybeard commanded, and unleashed her Voice.

"FUS!"

A wall of pure force erupted from Valkyrie's throat, strong enough to knock each one of the Greybeards off their feet. The powerful, raging feeling she had experienced a moment ago was now replaced by worry. "I'm so sorry," she said, reaching out a hand to help any of the men up who would take it. "Are you alright?"

Arngeir accepted Valkyrie's hand, but said nothing for several moments. All Valkyrie knew was that he was breathing rather heavily, as though her were in shock, finally the old man spoke. "It is you," he removed his hood at last, revealing his old, grizzled face, as did the rest of the Greybeards. "It is truly you." Before Valkyrie could even ask any questions, all four men dropped to one knee, bowing their heads to her. Arngeir spoke again, only single word that sent a shiver down the Nord's spine.

"Dragonborn..."

Some time later, both Valkyrie and Serana had been led further into the temple sanctuary, now sitting a large stone table that, if Valkyrie didn't know better, would think was used for guests or meetings. But she knew the Greybeards didn't accept visitors. Well, at least not usually, herself and her vampire being likely the first exceptions in decades. Arngeir stepped into the room, in his hands a small tray with some old mugs and a teapot. He took a seat opposite Valkyrie and Serana, pouring their drinks in silence.

"Well," Arngeir said as he handed the women their mugs. "Any questions you have, now is the time to ask them."

"Where do I even start?" Valkyrie said with a sigh, taking a sip of the old man's tea. "So... Dragonborn. I feel like I've heard the term before but I can't quite remember."

"In its most basic terms," the old man explained. "It means that you have the body and mind of a mortal, but the Gods have gifted you with the blood and soul..." he paused. "Of a dragon."

One question was answered, but countless more were raised as a result. "No," Valkyrie shook her head. "You have to be mistaken."

"Not at all," Arngeir continued calmly. "The runes outside that you were able to read so effortlessly? They are written in Dovahzul, in the language of dragons." Valkyrie had no rebuttal, and the old man continued. "And let us not forget how naturally you learned the Voice?"

"That reminds me," she finally said something. "What does the Voice have to do with dragons? I tried to ask the one I summoned, but he ran out of time."

"Hmm..." the old man stroked his beard for a moment, before taking a sip of his own tea. "There is no short answer to this question, so I would suggest you get comfortable." Valkyrie and Serana each nodded, in unison reaching for a swig of their own tea, bidding Arngeir to explain. "The Voice, or as dragons would say, the Thu'um, is tied to their very being. When one uses the Voice, they are projecting their own vital essence into a Thu'um, or rather, a Shout."

"So," Valkyrie said. "It's a form of magic?"

"Yes," Arngeir hesitated. "And no. The Thu'um is far beyond simply throwing fire at your enemies, or healing your wounds. Unchecked, it has the power to destroy worlds. And to dragons, this power came as naturally as breathing."

"Then how did they keep themselves from destroying everything?" The Nord asked. "Last I checked, the world was still here."

"I said unchecked, the Thu'um had such power," the old man said. "But dragons, or dovah, as is their word for themselves, had complete mastery over their powers. As I said, using the Thu'um was their inborn nature. It was more that mortals couldn't handle the weight of such power."

"I'm guessing that learning to use the Thu'um isn't easy." Valkyrie commented. "At least not for most people."

"Indeed not," Arngeir chuckled. "Look at the Greybeards. We've spent most of our lives in this monastery, studying the Way of the Voice. And yet, what you've learned in the span of a few hours took even the most gifted of us years to accomplish."

"But why me?" She asked, ever more confused. "I don't understand why I was chosen when there are far more capable people out there."

"We are here to guide you in the pursuit of that knowledge," the old man reassured her. "Just as the Greybeards have sought to guide those of the dragon blood that have come before you."

"So I'm not the only one..."

"You are not the first, no," Arngeir said. "There have been many of the dragon blood since Kyne first bestowed the gift onto mortals. But you are the only one that has been revealed to us thus far. Whether you are the only Dragonborn of this age, that is not for us to know."

Valkyrie was silent for a moment, attempting to take these new revelations in. She had been gifted with an ancient power normally only achieved by creatures of myth and legend, a power that had been granted to her by the Gods. "I'm sorry," she said. "I need a minute to process all of this."

"Of course," Arngeir said. "We have all the time in the world."

"So," Serana spoke up after her long silence. "I heard you mention Kyne, not Kynareth. I'm going to assume you follow the Old Nordic pantheon?"

"We do," the old man nodded. "The Way of the Voice is deeply rooted in ancient Nordic lore and history. Whatever the Greybeards believed before making our home here is irrelevant." He then turned back to Valkyrie. "Are you alright? I understand this can be quite a lot to take in."

"I don't know," the Nord said quietly. "Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but it's late and we're exhausted from the climb."

"Say no more," Arngeir said, standing up from his chair. "We shall resume in the morning. Allow me to show you to your quarters."

4th of Last Seed, 4E 200

The cold morning air nipped at Valkyrie's face. Having spent the majority of her night tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep due to the lingering anxiety of Arngeir's revelations about her true nature, she was still every bit as exhausted as when she and Serana had arrived at High Hrothgar. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she still questioned whether the Greybeards could be wrong about her, how she somehow shared this great power with names only spoken in legends like Tiber Septim. But she was here, and the Nord was determined to at least see this through to the end, regardless of what may have laid ahead for her.

She and Serana had followed Arngeir out the back way of the monastery, leading to what looked to have once been a courtyard, albeit chipped away by time and decay. As the old monk led them, the three made their way to the edge of a cliff, looking off in the distance. The sun had not quite yet risen over the horizon, the sky still a breathtaking mix of orange and violet hues, just barely lighting over the landscape below. Valkyrie swore she could see nearly the entire province from this height. "Wow," was all she managed to say. "This is quite a view."

"Indeed," Arngeir said. "The Greybeards come here to meditate, so naturally I thought this would be a wise place to begin our lessons."

Valkyrie nodded, exchanging a look with Serana as the both of them lowered down to their knees. In truth, Valkyrie had never done any sort of meditation in the past, too focused on fighting and achieving vengeance. But High Hrothgar strangely instilled in her a sense of peacefulness, and more or less was able to clear her mind, as the Nord closed her eyes, focusing only on the old man's words, Serana doing the same.

"Let us begin," Arngeir spoke calmly. "In the beginning, when the Gods sought to create life, and our world with it, their first creations were the dragons, or the Dovah. Majestic and deadly in equal measure, these creatures heralded Mundus for time immeasurable, until the birth of men." He paused, clearing his throat. "As you read on the runes, the dragons ruled over mortalkind, but did not do so directly. In the days of old, the dragons hand selected exceptionally powerful mortals to rule the land in their name. Those chosen were known as the Dragon Cult."

"Does this have anything to do with the Dragon War?" Valkyrie asked, her eyes still closed.

"Yes," the old man said. "Much of the culture of the ancient Nords had deep reverence for animals, even more so for dragons, but the Cult took it further. They worshipped the dragons as being avatars of the Gods. And looking through the perspective of the ancients, it was hard not to see why. These were eternal beings, gifted with the power to destroy simply by speaking."

"Eternal?" Valkyrie finally opened her eyes, and turned back to Arngeir. "But dragons have been extinct for centuries. If they were immortal, where are they?"

"You must understand," The monk explained. "Dragons were entirely different from mortal men. Their nature, their worldview, everything. Death to them did not mean the same thing it does to us. It is true, their physical bodies could be slain, but they did not die. Instead, they simply slumbered, until life was breathed into them once again by the Gods."

"So dragons could rise from the dead?" Serana spoke now. "What made them stop coming back?"

"Unfortunately, that knowledge has been lost to us," the old man sighed. "After the Dragon War, when men prevailed against their former masters, they began hunting dragons for sport. All the secrets, knowledge, and lore of the Dragon Cult have fallen to the forgetfulness of time. All we know is that there was only one way to truly kill a dragon."

"And what was that?" Valkyrie asked.

"By the hand of another dragon," Arngeir said gravely. "If and when a dragon slayed another of its kind, it would then devour the fallen's very soul. All its knowledge and experience would cease to exist."

"That..." the younger Nord paused, unsure of what to think. "That sounds horrible."

"I can only imagine..."

"But wait," she continued. "Is the devouring their soul part something you have to do yourself? Or does it just happen? Because we defeated a dragon, and nothing like that happened."

"Sadly, I do not have an answer," Angeir shook his head. "No record exists of any previous Dragonborn devouring a dragon's soul. But then again, dragons were not nearly as common a sight in the days of Tiber Septim than they were in ancient times. Just as well, you mentioned the dragon from Oblivion was trapped there by a curse, powerful magic. Perhaps this is why nothing happened."

"Maybe," Valkyrie said. "I'm sorry I keep interrupting, please continue."

"Not a problem," he laughed softed. "It is only natural that you have questions. Now where was I?" He paused. "Ah, yes. When man had prevailed over its former captors, it was then that the ancient Nords began to realize their true potential. They roamed Tamriel, fighting and conquering with the power of the Voice. The most powerful of these warriors were known as Tongues, and it is said that their Voices were so powerful, they could not even speak normally without fear of causing devastation."

"Is that why the others don't talk?" Serana asked.

"Indeed," Arngeir nodded. "Their Voices are too strong for anyone not trained in the Way to withstand. Even a whisper could kill you."

"This power does sound incredible," the vampire said. "So why is it that no one uses it today?"

"Because the Thu'um was not meant for mortals," The old man answered rather sternly. "The Tongues grew arrogant after overthrowing their dragon masters, you see. They believed that with the Voice, they were destined to be the new rulers of the land, when Kyne had only gifted them this power out of pity. It was not meant to be used to fight, or conquer." He sighed. "And so the Gods sought to punish the Tongues with great failure and defeat. It was then that Jurgen Windcaller the Calm, the founder of the Greybeards, made his home here and surmised that the Voice should only be used in worship of the Gods."

"So then, what about Tiber Septim?" Valkyrie asked. "He was Dragonborn, and he used the Voice to conquer the entire continent."

"The Dragonborn, or Dovahkiin in the dragon language, is the exception the rules," Arngeir said. "You have received the power to Shout directly from Kyne Herself. If we are to accept one gift, being the Voice, how can we deny another?"

"But why?" Valkyrie only grew more confused. "Why me?"

"It is said that Dragonborn are sent into the world in times of great need," the old man explained. "What this need may be, I cannot say. But the Gods do not make mistakes. You are the one they have chosen, and so you will realize your destiny in due time."

"So everyone keeps telling me," she sighed. "I just wish I knew what it was already."

"Well, until that time," Arngeir rested a hand on the Nord's shoulder. "The Greybeards will teach you all we can about the Voice, and hopefully guide you down the path of wisdom."

15th of Evening Star, 4E 200

Several months were spent at High Hrothgar, Valkyrie studying diligently under the tutelage of the Greybeards. For every question that was answered about her being this Dragonborn or about the Voice, several others were raised that Arngeir and his fellow monks had no answers to. The only thing she noticed that had actually changed was her physique, thanks mostly to the strict diet that the Greybeards adhered to, which she had no choice to adopt herself. While Valkyrie had never thought of herself as very fit, Serana had made it a priority to praise her lover's newfound physical prowess with great enthusiasm, albeit when the monks were out of sight.

The unusally sunny landscape of High Hrothgar's courtyard, the sun's light reflecting off the snow, was a strangely fitting background as Valkyrie brushed away at Ivory's coat, having decided to bring the horses to the monastery after it became clear they would be at High Hrothgar for some time.

"Quite a magnificent beast," came Arngeir's voice from behind. Valkyrie had not heard him approach, but had become used to the old man appearing out of nowhere.

"Yes she is," Valkyrie said. "I know my training is still pretty far from complete, but I'd like to take her out riding soon. Keeping her cooped up here has to be getting old."

"You know you are not a prisoner here," the old monk said, grabbing his own brush and assisting her with the other side of the horse. "You and Serana are free to come and go as you please."

"I know" Valkyrie replied, giving a pat to Ivory's neck. "But leaving now, while I still have so much to learn, seems irresponsible." She suddenly laughed. "Speaking of Serana, I don't think she's going to be joining us today. She's..." She paused. "Tired."

Arngeir sighed. "I am not stupid, you know." Valkyrie suddenly blushed, turning away from the old man's gaze. "What the both of you get up to is your own business. But please," his voice suddenly lowered. "I would ask that you try and be a little quieter."

"I understand," Valkyrie said nervously. "I'm sorry."

"No matter," the old man sighed. "Perhaps to change the subject, we might resume your teaching?"

"Works for me," the young Nord said, taking a step away from her horse. "What's the history lesson about today?"

Arngeir simply chuckled, a gesture that made Valkyrie slightly anxious. "No history lesson today" he said as he led her to the center of the courtyard. "Today we are going to sharpen and tone your Voice."

"Oh," Valkyrie said quietly. She had not expected this, much of the last several months having been spent studying the history of the Voice, the ancient Nords, and the philosophy behind the monks' Way of the Voice. As interesting as Arngeir's lectures could be, they had a tendency to drag on and become boring after a bit. This was something new and exciting.

As they reached the center courtyard, another of the Greybeards was waiting, Valkyrie recognized him as Einarth, one of the silent ones. Or at least, she thought that was who it was. Between the robes and the beards poking out from their hoods, it was often difficult to tell the other monks apart, as Arngeir was the only one who spoke.

Einarth bowed graciously as Valkyrie approached, a gesture she returned. "Now then," Arngeir said, standing off to the side as his fellow monk and the young woman stood face to face. "When you first arrived here, we taught you what is known as a Word of Power."

"Fus," Valkyrie remembered. "Force, right?"

"Correct," Arngeir and Einarth both nodded. "But what we did not tell you is that this Word, in conjunction with others, will make the Shout more powerful."

"Others, huh?" The young Nord pondered. "How many Words are there exactly?"

"Countless," the old man said. "Having said that, each individual Shout has three words. Think about when you summoned the dragon from Oblivion." Valkyrie nodded. "A dragon's name is made up of three Words of Power. If you are ready, master Einarth will teach you the second Word of what is known to us as Unrelenting Force,"

Valkyrie turned to Einarth, the monk removed his hood and looked her dead in the eyes. If she hadn't been aware of the pacifist nature of the Greybeards, it would have scared her senseless. At last, Einarth Spoke in a whisper, much in the same way Arngeir had when she had first arrived at the monastery.

"Ro..."

Valkyrie heard the old man's Voice within herself, the Word of Power appearing, shimmering in the air between them. "Ro," Valkyrie repeated. "Balance?"

Einarth smiled, bowing his head and backing away. It was Angeir who spoke next, seemingly in disbelief. "I know I've seen it already, but..." He exhaled deeply. "To see the abilities of a Dragonborn for myself, how naturally and effortlessly you learn..."

"I honestly don't know how I do it," Valkyrie said. "It just happens. Why is it so difficult for most people to learn the Voice?"

"Hmm," the old man put a hand to his chin. "How best to explain this..." He shared a glance with Einarth, before continuing. "There is a reason dragons could use the voice so naturally. It is not enough for mortal men to learn the Words. They must also understand the meaning."

"The meaning?" Valkyrie questioned. "But something like balance seems pretty straightforward."

"Oh no," Arngeir shook his head. "What we perceive as balance means nothing. In order to use the Word in a Shout, one must understand the Word as a dragon might. This is why it takes years, sometimes decades for a mortal to learn even the simplest Shout."

"And here I am learning Shouts without effort," the young woman said. "It almost doesn't seem fair."

"Such a restriction is for the best," Arngeir replied. "As I once taught you, mortal men grew drunk with power when they wielded the Voice."

"True," Valkyrie said, before a mischevious smile grew on her face. "I guess the only thing now is to test out this new Shout."

"Indeed," Arngeir said, taking a stand beside Einarth. "Let us taste of your Voice once more, Dragonborn."

"Are you sure?" The younger Nord asked. "I know you were fine last time, but the Shout will be even stronger now."

"And as I said before, we can withstand," the monk assured her. "Now!"

"FUS RO!"

The wall of force blasted through Valkyrie's vocal chords, its power magnified by the second Word of Power, and its might blew both Greybeards back, sending them skidding on their feet. No words needed to be spoken, as Valkyrie looked on at the old men, feeling nigh unstoppable, if only not for a slight burning in her throat.

Despite her uneasiness about possessing the power of the Thu'um, Valkyrie's imagination began to soar. She could only imagine the possibilities of what she would be capable of once she herself had mastered the Voice, unable to picture any enemy that could defeat her.

It was a feeling that both exhilarated her, and frightened her beyond belief.