A month had gone by with Cura laying in bed, tended to by her friends. She had, during that time, slowly recovered from the fatigue she suffered from while under the watchful eye of the Keeper and the others, and now could move again, tired as she still may be.
She reflected on her journey and all the changes it had brought not just to her life, but to her friends' lives, as well, and to Skyrim at large. Things were certain to be different now with the Dragon threat subsided.
A month had passed since the defeat of her greatest foe, Alduin. As she lay awake, she scanned the ceiling's masonry with her eyes as she felt an ache in her left arm. Instinctively, she touched it to soothe it, but was disappointed to remember that it was missing.
Sorine and Gunmar will take care of you, Cura, just be patient. She told herself.
She scoffed with amusement at her circumstances. Bedridden for a month. It wasn't exactly the heroic homecoming she expected, but that was all right. She knew Skyrim wasn't going to let her down. Now that she was well-rested, she could walk about the towns again as a great hero.
The prospect of being viewed differently by everyone was both exciting and a little intimidating to her.
What would result of it?
Either way, she wanted to be ready for the world going forward. It felt like a whole new place now, with Alduin gone.
She'd been up and about, but so far has restricted her movements to the perimeters surrounding the Hall of the Vigilant.
She was growing used to relying on her right arm more than ever, though it was still a hard change.
She could dress herself, though putting on gauntlets was impossible without assistance.
Her mind gravitated to all the great warriors of their history who have suffered grievous wounds on the field of battle. Pelinal Whitestrake himself lost his limbs to the Ayleids, if the tales were true.
Gruesome. Utterly gruesome.
To Cura's surprise, Serana entered her room, followed by Brelyna, Onmund and J'zargo.
"Hey, pretty girl." Serana laughed in a friendly manner.
Cura had briefly lost herself and asked. "Serana? Long time no see! What brings you here?"
"We have a picnic, remember?" The vampiress laughed at her cloudy memory as she held up a leather bag.
Cura slowly pulled herself upright, but took care to keep her missing arm hidden under her sheet. Now that she said it, it dawned on her. "Sure I remember! I never forget a promise."
"You saved us all - your name will never be forgotten. How do you feel?" Onmund asked.
"Better now, that's for sure." Cura answered.
"You defeated Alduin - that's nothing to shake at." Brelyna admitted. "You really are incredible."
Cura felt proud of her accomplishment, and her natural reaction gave her away; her cheeks went a deep pink colour and a smile stretched across her face. She tried to hide it, but there was no reasonable way to do so.
"J'zargo knew this one could do it. He is very good at judging the worth of others." J'zargo beamed proudly.
Cura scoffed. "Well, I'm available. I'll just put a robe on and I'll be with you in a few minutes."
Soon, after Cura rejoined them with a false Gauntlet in place hiding her missing arm, Serana Fast Travelled the group to the Forgotten Vale, where the College mages gawked at its splendor.
They hadn't noticed that Cura's right arm was unarmoured while her left was. She rathered not call attention to it.
"Wow... this is the Forgotten Vale?" Onmund gasped as he watched soft, pink petals float in the air. "It's not what I was expecting at all: it's much more beautiful."
"It's breathtaking..." Brelyna ogled the gleamblossoms amidst the white leaves beside a cliff.
Onmund joined her and knelt down. He softly touched the plant. "When this picnic is done I think it would be a good idea to gather some of these unique plants for study."
Cura was fine with the idea. But the first thing on her mind was food. She looked around and located a nice spot atop the nearby cliffside, which would give them a nice vista. "Did Serana tell you the story of what transpired here?" Cura asked the trio.
"This was the place where you got Auriel's Bow, wasn't it?" Brelyna recalled.
Serana smiled. "It was an incredible journey. Cura befriended the Falmer, slayed a Vampiric Priest, and passed the pilgrimage of enlightenment."
"And we all fought two Dragons over a frozen lake, summoned by Alduin." Cura added in. "Voslaarum and Naaslaarum, I believe their names were." She was certain that was it. Though her memory failed her in certain areas, she was sure this was not one of them.
Suddenly, Cura had a fascinating thought: their skeletons were probably still there at the lake.
Could she revive the Dragons if she wanted to?
Alduin's powerful voice resounded in her mind as she remembered the encounter at Kynesgrove. Sahloknir, ziil gro dovah ulse! Slen tiid vo!
Slen "Flesh", Tiid "Time", Vo "Undo".
Return your flesh, essentially. It would cause the damages inflicted upon the two of them to reverse as time itself would flow backwards through them. A paradox, sure, but does that apply to creatures that exist outside of time?
Cura considered it. Though, what if they turned against her immediately after revival?
She shook the thought off. The Dov were sworn to bow to the superior Thu'um. She was their Qahnaariin already.
Serana laid a picnic basket onto a long sheet that Brelyna conjured and beckoned Cura to sit with them.
As Cura sat down, J'zargo, Onmund and Brelyna followed.
"What was it like, in Sovngarde?" Onmund asked.
"It was breathtaking. Everything you've learned about it growing up is true." Cura stated.
"Everything?"
"Everything, down to the Whalebone Bridge and Tsun and the Hall of Valour." Cura confirmed. "Great heroes roamed the land. I encountered Olaf One-Eye, Hakon One-Eye, Felldir the Old, Gormlaith of the Golden hilt, Ysgramor, and Jurgen Windcaller."
The others stared at her with wide eyes. Brelyna took out a cheese wheel and an Alto Wine and laid them at the center of the cloth.
Onmund took out a plate of Boiled Creme Treats, and laid them center.
J'zargo laid down a couple of large Venison chops.
Serana busted out a few bottles of Spiced Wine and drew five tankards for them all to enjoy.
The picnic was pleasant, and the view from the upper hills of the Vale was a splendid backdrop. Cura recounted her adventures from her first journey to Dark water Crossing, to Helgen, to her time with the Companions, her journey as a learning Dragonborn, to the Cidhna mine incident, to where she and Serana met, and all the way to Harkon's defeat.
"And shortly the after, we all met in the College of Winterhold." Cura concluded as she swallowed some Spiced Wine.
"The time of the Eye of Magnus is one that J'zargo will never forget." the gray Khajiit shuddered. "J'zargo has no doubts that the Nords of Skyrim have another reason to hate us now."
"Look, if the Vigil of Stendarr and the Dawnguard could tolerate my presence as a vampire, I'm sure mages will one day find acceptance again in Skyrim. It wasn't always like this." Serana explained.
Brelyna clicked her tongue. "Wish I could say the same for my people. Cura, you've seen the Gray Quarter in Windhelm. The Nords would keep us all stashed in a ghetto."
"Not the Nords. The prejudiced Nords." Cura corrected her. "Some of the most gregarious people I know are Nords. They never once made me feel like garbage for being half-elven."
Adalvald, Tolan, Fralia, Kodlak, Mjoll, Onmund, Lydia, Hilda, Gunmar, Tolfdir, Vilkas, Farkas, Aela, Balgruuf, Elisif, Torygg, Idgrod, Thonnir... even Astrid the Dark Brotherhood assassin didn't seem prejudiced in their encounter. She could go on and on.
What she'd seen was that the Nords were mostly good people. They weren't these vicious savages that other people made them out to be, on the whole. She grew up in their land her entire life, and she would not let its image be tarnished because of a few bad apples. It wasn't right that the Nords' image was sullied by people like Galmar and Rolf Stone-Fist. Like the Stormcloak supremacists.
Come to think of it, all of the prejudiced Nords she's seen were all of the Stormcloak rebellion's side. Jarl Skald himself was an ardent supporter of her father's, and incredibly scornful of Imperials and other 'outsiders'. He only kept Madena around because she was useful to him, though he effectively caged her up in the White Hall and would never let her see her family back in High Rock with the civil war raging on. Cura just figured he didn't trust her - it was nothing to do with generosity or not.
Perhaps, like Galmar said, "may as well be elves." It shook Cura to her core hearing that the first time, and still sent shivers down her spine. What did he mean by that, exactly? Would he have Ulfric send the Stormcloak army westward and overtake High Rock to "reclaim" land that "belongs to the Nords?" Would the Bretons be treated the same way they would treat the Thalmor?
Then it dawned on Cura. "It's funny, isn't it; as a whole, the Nord culture condemns magic, and yet every Jarl has their own private wizard." It was pretty inconsistent for people who hate and fear magic to have it two doors down from their bedroom.
"Does Korir?" J'zargo asked. He hadn't seen one near his longhouse.
"I don't think so. But why would you expect that Horker to?" Onmund scoffed.
"I sometimes wonder if he doesn't practice magic himself, in his basement, in secret." Serana laughed mischievously. "Maybe I'll spy on him sometime when everyone is asleep and see if he does."
Onmund laughed. "I'd love to know that, myself."
It was nice to spend time with the Students again. Hours felt like passing minutes as they roamed the Vale and collected ingredients found throughout.
Cura showed them the Wayshrines and the Temple of Auri-El, but Gelebor proved elusive.
Serana was happy to see it again, even if this was the place where she learned that the prophecy her father cast her aside for was built on a lie.
It was also the place where she, Cura and her friends went on their biggest quest, so the memory wasn't entirely despoiled.
"So, this was where the Falmer worshipped." Brelyna acknowledged the large chantry and marvelled at its design. "It's impressive, I'll give it that." Though, coming from Morrowind, she could easily show Cura more things that would blow her mind.
J'zargo scratched his chin as he ogled the statue of the sun god. "Auri-El is the elf name for Alkosh - er, 'Akatosh', right? Cura, this one has some connection here, as Dragonborn."
"She has Auriel's Bow, you know. She got it here." Serana gestured to their surroundings proudly for her friend's achievement.
"'The one, who is kin to both Dragons and the races of men, with the power to rival the sun.' Gods..." Onmund glanced over to Cura. "That is way too much power for any mortal to wield. Could be dangerous!"
"I'm glad we're friends, honestly.' Brelyna confessed. "I'd hate to be on your bad side."
"Hearing that makes J'zargo realize that our rivalry at the college really was stupid; the power this one has and the power J'zargo has to work his life off to wield are not even on the same level." the gray Khajiit muttered disappointedly.
Cura stood on one of the steps leading up to the balcony. "I intend to use this power for good - not for ill. Take comfort in knowing that."
The students certainly did.
"So... what makes the Thu'um different from regular magic?" Brelyna crossed her arms.
"It's a power that relies on the soul and understanding of the wielder; independent of Magicka." Cura explained. "With Words I can will things into reality, really."
"Like the blast of wind, right?" J'zargo recalled her Fus Ro Dah.
"Exactly." Cura confirmed.
Onmund was a little agitated. "Why don't you teach that to the Legion so they can tear the High Elves apart? End the stupid White-Gold Concordat so Skyrim can go back to its old way?"
"Because it takes people decades to learn a single word." Cura explained.
"Really? I recall the words "Wuld Na."" Onmund sulked arrogantly.
Cura sighed. She would need to show them for themselves, then. "And do you know what those words mean?"
"No idea." Onmund admitted.
"Whirlwind, Fury." Cura exasperatedly pointed them out.
"Is that the blast of wind that J'zargo pointed out?" Onmund asked.
"No, that's Unrelenting Force." Cura descended the steps and walked outwards towards the more open valley and her allies followed. She looked up to the air. "FUS RO DAH!" the powerful thunderclap resounded through the air as the mighty burst of force rippled through the permafrost-coated grass.
Onmund took note, and walked beside her. "Fus Ro Dah!"
Nothing happened.
Onmund attempted it again. "FUS RO DAH!"
The second attempt was as vain as the first. "FUS RO DAH! FUS RO DAH!" he flailed his arms instinctively, as if to expand the force outwards, but nothing came of it. "Come on - it doesn't look that hard. FUS RO DAH!"
Cura shook her head. "It doesn't work like that. You'll have to spend years researching 'Fus' before even understanding 'Ro' and 'Dah' a little. My Father spent decades of his life studying the Thu'um with the Greybeards before he could Shout, and he was a prodigy."
Onmund furrowed his brows. "Your... father? The only person in Skyrim who was known to study with the Greybeards besides you in recent history was Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. Does that mean..."
Oops.
Cura cursed her inability to hold her tongue. The only saving throw she could cast was a preemptive farewell. "Well, anyways, the Thu'um is a unique, and very ancient form of magic. Not just anybody - Dragonborn excluded - can pick it up. Now, it's been a fun day, but I really must return to the Hall of the Vigilant."
Serana tapped her on the shoulder. "Out with it, pretty girl. People will probably know sooner or later anyway. These sort of secrets have a way of slipping out."
Cura looked at her friends cautiously. "Sigh... fine. Ulfric Stormcloak is my biological father. No, he isn't Dragonborn, if you must know."
Onmund almost stumbled backwards. "You're the daughter of Ulfric Stormcloak?! For real? I was just casting the idea out there..."
"You aren't nearly racist enough to be his daughter." Brelyna stared at her in detached surprise.
"My Father is not as prejudiced as you would believe; and I'm going to leave it at that." Cura crossed her right arm over her left gauntlet.
"Yes, the Elf features say it all." J'zargo pointed at Cura's pointy-tipped ears.
"Sure. Have you seen Windhelm, J'zargo? No. Because they wouldn't even let you inside. At least my people get to live in filthy slums!" Brelyna spat with sarcastic jubilation.
J'zargo's ears flopped. "They let Inigo inside, and that one is Khajiit. The rule only applies to the caravans, J'zargo thinks."
"Sorry to say it, Onmund, but your people really dislike outsiders." Brelyna said firmly.
Onmund shifted awkwardly. "Sigh... I know, I know. But like Cura said, we aren't all like that."
"Besides, the Dunmer are also cruel to outsiders - or 'N'wah', as they say. And the Dunmer treat the Argonians and J'zargo's people like cattle." the gray Khajiit pointed out the facts.
Brelyna was hard to deny it. "Yes, that's true, but -"
Cura did not like the direction the conversation was taking. The unpleasantness hung in the air like a curtain between them all.
The Dragonborn stepped between them all. "But we're all friends. That's what matters. We can build a better tomorrow if we stop focusing on whose ancestors did what, when. Besides, if I went down this road, I'd have to split myself in half! It's absurd."
J'zargo, Onmund and Brelyna exchanged glances at one another, then at Serana and Cura and nodded in agreement.
"No, you're right." Brelyna admitted. "Nobody is guilt-free. I'm sorry for what I said about Nords, Onmund. You're nothing like what I've heard from the other Dunmer in Skyrim."
"And J'zargo sees you as a friend, Brelyna. Do not think otherwise." J'zargo reassured her.
"Thanks, J'zargo." Brelyna smiled at her cat friend.
Serana nudged Cura. "Quick thinking there, Cura. That could have gone ugly really fast."
Cura knew. "Well, I think we can agree, Imperial, Nord, Breton, High Elf, Dark Elf, Redguard, Khajiit, Argonian, Orc, or Wood Elf, that the Thalmor are the biggest threat to our way of life if Ancano was any indication."
The others unanimously agreed on that fact. If Ancano was espousing Thalmor doctrine, then they were possibly almost as deadly as Alduin. It's a good thing the Empire watched them diligently.
However, if Ancano was espousing individual thought, then perhaps the Thalmor were overblown and were just an ordinary invading force rather than a potential apocalyptic superpower in the making.
Cura's mind drifted back to the Dragon skeletons at the lake. She had to at least try it. What did she have to lose?
"Serana, let's show them the spot where we battled the twin Dragons Voslaarum and Naaslaarum." she suggested to her vampire friend, who seemed keen on the idea, herself.
"Great idea! That should liven things up." Serana agreed.
After some ways of walking, they crossed the forlorn landscape in the Wrothgarian Mountains and descended upon the frozen lake.
Interestingly enough, the two Dragon skeletons stuck up from the surface of the water, refrozen in a layer of ice. Voslaarum must have floated up as the water below was pushed by cold currents.
"Whoa!" J'zargo exclaimed with excitement. "Those are real Dragons!" He stood next to the first skeleton and ogled it, comparing it's massive size to himself. The headless body of Naaslaarum alone was far larger than he.
"Alduin summoned the pair to try and test my strength, or kill me if need be." Cura admitted as she approached the center of what was once a gap in the ice. "I want to try something. Stand back, everyone!"
Onmund, J'zargo, Brelyna, and Serana each took a few steps backwards, curious and watching with great intent to see what Cura was about to attempt. Though Serana had an idea.
Cura closed her eyes and took in some air. She had to get this right. Life; give them life once more. She kept focused on that one principle. She beckoned the twin Dragons. "Voslaarum, Naaslaarum - ziil gro Dovah ulse!" Suddenly, light began to emerge from Cura and surrounded the two skeletal Dragons. They began to crack free of the ice, causing her friends to shriek in horror momentarily. Naaslaarum's head broke through another point in the ice and levitated back to his spinal chord and attached itself.
"SLEN TIID VO!" Cura Shouted.
"What are you doing?!" Onmund protested. "I thought you were supposed to kill them! Why are you resurrecting them?!"
"Be quiet! She knows what she is doing!" J'zargo quickly sided with Cura.
Brelyna looked at Serana. "Do... do we stop her?"
Serana shook her head in response and watched studiously as the flesh slowly grew back over the skeletal remains and the Dragons were given life anew.
"Orin brit ro." Voslaarum said as it slowly found its footing on the ice. The Dragon was then accompanied by its twin and the two towered over Cura and her allies.
The two Dragons roared in unison, causing Onmund to cover his face with terror and the others readied for a potential fight. However, Cura stood her ground. She glared at the two with her bright emerald eyes fearlessly. "Voslaarum and Naaslaarum. Zu'u in hi. Alduin dir naal dii haal. Thaar wah dii Thu'um." Alduin has died by my hand. Obey my Thu'um.
The two Dragons lowered their heads in respect to the Dragonborn. "We are yours to command, Qahnaariin. Suleyk, mul, rel."
"I will summon you if I have need of you." Cura proclaimed. "But for now, I want the two of you to protect this beautiful land from invaders." She gestured to the Forgotten Vale. "Don't attack the Snow Elf Paladin if you see him, and leave the Falmer at peace."
"As you command." Naaslaarum confirmed before beating its mighty wings and flying upwards, followed by Voslaarum, and the pair soared in opposite directions.
"Well, I definitely see the difference between magic and Shouts now." Brelyna admitted sheepishly as she scraped the heel of her boot on the ice. "That was incredible, Cura. An advanced Conjuration Spell would take longer to perfect than that. You're almost a Dragon, yourself."
"Every morning I keep in touch with my Dragonblood." Cura stated. "I meditate on the Way of the Voice. It seems the words are coming to me easier."
"Every morning she does." Serana confirmed.
"So THAT'S what you were doing!" Onmund snapped at Cura. "I've seen you sitting up in your bed when I walked past your cell many a morning; I just assumed you were praying to Stendarr or something."
"That, too." Cura admitted.
"Your efforts have bore fruit." J'zargo gestured up towards the sky, where the two Dragons went their separate ways. "J'zargo was completely mesmerized by this. Perhaps one day J'zargo can grow his own beard and learn from the Graybeards, too?"
"Good luck with that." Onmund was near to laughter at the notion. "Only privileged few get to go up that mountain."
"Perhaps one day J'zargo will rise to the challenge." the Khajiit insisted, twirling his moustache.
Having seen what she wanted to, Cura decided that it was time for her to return. "Well, I'm going to return to the Pale now. It's been fun; I'll stop by the college sometime."
"Of course. It was good to see you again, Cura." Serana gave her friend a farewell hug, and Cura exchanged with the others, too.
One dizzying Fast Travel sent Cura back to the Hall of the Vigilant, and she stumbled across the pathway, having landed on ill-footing. She found herself covered in snow and stared at by surprised and concerned Vigilants all around. She awkwardly passed by them and headed inside to return to rest.
At the Palace of Kings in Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak paced the floor of his throne room. He was hoping to hear news concerning Cura's fate. Word of the World-Eater's defeat and the Dragonborn's success spread throughout the province, but her whereabouts were unknown and the Jarl feared the worst for his kin.
Death to Alduin was no mere death; it was utter annihilation.
Ulfric hoped to Talos that that was not what happened to her.
"Blocking Pale Pass has cut one of the main Imperial supply routes... and left Whiterun dangerously exposed all this time and we have yet to make use of it!" Galmar chuckled as he pored over the map in the war room. "The Dragonborn left us a boon in her lack of sense."
"Though their reinforcements from the Reach could be positioned already, expecting us to act at this moment." Ulfric said as he entered the room. "No. We will need to send more scouts out there first. You are a fine warrior, Galmar, but you are too rash."
Galmar scoffed. "What are you waiting for, Ulfric? The World-Eater is dead; now is our time to move! Whiterun is on a platter! We just need our knives and forks and we can push that Milk-Drinker Balgruuf off his fancy chair."
"You underestimate the craftiness of General Tullius." Ulfric admitted. "He will expect us to move in on Whiterun from the South. That much is obvious. The Imprtisld are a crafty lot; they don't fight with honour as we Nords do."
"So we either take Whiterun, or go to Sovngarde. It sounds all right with me." Galmar proclaimed nonchalantly. After all, if he died, others would take up the Stormcloak Mantle and fight.
Ulfric wasn't so certain. In truth, he had grown more and more uncertain of his cause over the passing years. He understood all too well that the Elves lay in wait of the outcome of the war. As much as he desired to crush them beneath his heel, he knew Skyrim could not do it alone.
He was pigeon-holed.
He had to fight this rebellion, for the Empire unjustly sold Skyrim out to the High Elves.
But if Skyrim should successfully repel the Empire, they would be alone in fighting the Thalmor, for Skyrim will have soured their diplomatic relationship with the Empire. Perhaps this was what the Thalmor wanted in the end. A desolate Skyrim, just ripe for the taking. The birthplace of man, a territory under their heel.
No.
He had to see this through to the end; for all who suffered under the Empire's cowardice.
"I want the entire perimeter searched, Galmar. That's final. There's no glory in stepping on a hidden Shock Rune." Ulfric put his foot down.
Galmar sighed and scratched his forehead. "Very well. If those cowardly dogs are scheming in our new backyard, we'll find them."
"Good." Ulfric said curtly as he exited the war room for a moment of rest.
As the days grew longer, Ulfric found himself growing weary and tired. Wuunferth could not determine the cause exactly, but supposed it was stress. The Nord laughed the notion off. Life was stress. If one could not deal with it, they would surely fall under.
As he sat upon his throne, a Courier came in and knelt before him.
"Do you have any news regarding the Dragonborn?" Ulfric asked plaintively.
"Yes, my Jarl; word from the Pale says that she has returned to the Hall of the Vigilant and rests there at the moment." the Courier confirmed, much to Ulfric's relief.
It felt as if a two-ton weight was lifted off his chest. It was good to know that Cura was alive and well, as it were. Ulfric thanked the Nine for it.
"And what is the state of Dawnstar?"
"The Pale is under Imperial Rule, and they have set up military posts throughout the mountains. My Jarl, they are ready to defend it at all costs." the courier explained.
Ulfric sneered. "Of course." Bringing troops through the south of the Pale would have been easier than going over the Southern mountains with their far more rugged terrain. What Galmar forgot to see was that, without magic tricks, it would be difficult to supply their troops in Falkreath with reinforcements. The Stormcloaks were stretching thin as it were. "Is that all?"
The courier bowed his head. "Yes, my Jarl."
"You're dismissed."
The courier stood up and headed back outside, leaving the Stormcloak leader to ruminate on all that he'd heard.
