CHAPTER 77 - DECLARATION OF WAR

Dragonsreach was quiet ever since Gildarts left.

Soon after he was gone, Lucy hoped to leave the feast, her plate untouched and stained by tears. The Companions understood it well. Erza would soon retreat to Jorrvaskr, and Gray returned quietly to the Bannered Mare. But as Natsu and Lucy followed them, they were turned back at the gates by Jarl Balgruuf's guards – as a Dragonborn, she should stay in Dragonsreach under the highest security.

They were offered a chance to stay in one of the guest rooms in the palace's upstairs, and finding no excuse to refuse, they took it. The guard guided them to their room and told them to come to him if they needed anything, and then they were left alone in the bedchamber.

As soon as the door closed, Lucy collapsed to the bed and kept on sobbing. Natsu sat next to her, gently patting her back with his right hand while leaning to his left. It got heavy to breathe. With an iron grip around his chest, he tried to keep himself from bursting into tears too, but all he could think about was the way Gildarts had spoken of Cana, and the happiness he felt with his family, happiness he had lost forever.

The smile died on Gildarts 's face as he spread his arms, the ghostly one gleaming in the darkness. "And when I held my newborn daughter in my arms for the first time, that's –" Gildarts started, but suddenly his voice cracked. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked down at his empty arms. "That's when I finally learnt what love truly is." He swallowed a sob, shaking his head. "Gods, how I miss her."

I gave him hope, Natsu thought, hope that increased his pain a thousandfold.

It wasn't his fault, he tried to assure himself. By a mere coincidence had his path crossed with Cana, and at first he couldn't even imagine she would've been Gildarts's daughter. Only after Gildarts had poured his heart out about his family had Natsu managed to connect the dots, but gods, maybe it would've been right to keep it to himself. This hope had crushed Gildarts.

Natsu stroked Lucy's hair, revisiting the memory of that day. The whole conversation had started with Lucy. Natsu had gotten so angry as he listened to Gildarts urging him to not take Lucy with him on his travels, how he had promised to keep her safe no matter what, and how he would be the first to leave this world. Now, Natsu was only angry at himself. Gildarts knew what it was like to love someone and lose them. Natsu just hadn't believed it.

"My sweet Cana…" he muttered, shaking his head. "Tell me, did she still laugh as loudly as she did as a baby? Was she as happy as she used to be? I always feared that it wrecked her to lose her papa…"

Natsu smiled. "She's the loudest girl in Jorrvaskr, I assure you. And she seemed very happy to me. I can tell her your regards if I ever cross paths with her again."

Gildarts shook his head. "It's better not. If she's gotten used to my absence, maybe it's best not to tear those wounds open. But maybe… Maybe if I travel past Whiterun one day, I'd like to see how she's grown up. Just see with my own eyes that she's… alive." Gildarts wiped his eyes again, glancing up at Natsu. "Thank you for letting me know. It really… it really matters the world to me to know she lives. The Thalmor hadn't found her, and that's the most important thing to me."

Now, he couldn't stop the tears from coming. He let them roll down his cheeks and fall onto his lap, one by one. He reached for Lucy's hand and clutched her fingers so tight it hurt him, but at least she was still here, with him, holding his whole world in her hands, and it was his only solace. She was his only family now, and if he meant to learn something from Gildarts, he ought to cherish every breath, every moment, with all of his heart.

For it all could be taken away.

Gildarts had thought he had known pain before.

He had witnessed the Thalmor soldiers bringing the severed head of his mother and every other Blade he had known to display. He had been forced to abandon his family so that the justiciars couldn't find them. He had suffered numerous wounds, had lost three limbs, and visited death's door too many times. Nothing had been able to kill him, not until now. It was all nothing compared to this, the most gruesome and truest pain of them all.

In the darkness, illuminated by a single candle, was an urn containing the ashes of his daughter – and never had Gildarts beheld a sight so utterly devastating.

A while ago, in Forelhost, only one thing had been strong enough to pull him through the death struggle, and it was to see his daughter smile again. Until I see her again, I cannot die, no matter what, he had thought, and so he had fought his way through the impossible odds, to stay alive until he'd find her.

Now, he did.

There she lay, his beloved baby girl, eternally out of his reach. Cana of Whiterun, carved in tiny letters to the urn's side. It was small enough to fit his arms, just like Cana had been by the time he had previously seen her. Two swords were laid beside the urn, reminding him of the two sticks Cana had wielded as a child. The very same fierceness had brought her to this urn.

My sweet Cana. It's so cold in here. You don't belong here, all alone in this cold darkness. You should be warm and cozy, sitting beside your friends around a hearthfire, drinking mead and singing jolly songs. Why did you have to die? You were alive just a little while ago. Just why did you have to die before I could find you?

Gildarts buried his face into his hands and sobbed, his cries echoing in the dark and empty crypt. Somewhere in there must've been Cornelia's grave, too – here lay all that remained of his family, all that was taken from him. He could still remember every moment he had spent with them, their sweet and warm laughter, now forever silenced. I wish I never left you. Oh gods how I wish.

Grief burned him from the inside, black flames bleeding out from his broken heart, scorching through his veins with an immeasurable agony. Incinerating sorrow, cremating him to ashes as well, and for a moment he believed he would truly die from it alone. Nothing had been able to kill him until now. Following her would be his only consolation, for he knew he could not walk out of this crypt. He could not face the world after losing everything he had fought for, lived for, it was all nothing to him. All the steps he took throughout his entire life had led him to this, to weeping in front of his daughter's grave.

And there was no coming back from here, he ultimately knew.

His ghostly arms began to flicker in the darkness, his knees caving in below him as he collapsed to the ground. Perhaps it would be fitting, to lose all concentration of magic that prolonged his miserable life and turn to ashes, to join his family once again. There was still so much left unfinished, but what did the Sky Haven Temple even matter? As a last Blade, he had no legacy. Let it all be ground to dust by the wheels of time, it didn't matter to him.

He couldn't breathe. His sobbing slowly ceased, replaced with a suffocating grasp around his lungs. In his last moments, he was enveloped in a memory of his baby daughter sleeping in her cot, gently wrapping her tiny fingers around his. He had watched her quiet sleep, tears in his eyes at the wonder of having brought something so beautiful into this world. Cornelia had hugged him from behind, and whispered how it was time for him to go to bed as well. For a moment, he could almost feel them there, hear her voice lulling him to sleep.

But as he lay there, his body fading in and out of existence, waiting for his death to come, he slowly realised he was still alive. He remained in this cold crypt, like death itself was refusing him. Something in him held onto this life, barely gripping the last thread that kept him here, the final thread of light.

It was hatred.

Without the Thalmor, none of this would've happened.

It might've been the war between the rebellion and the Empire where Cana fell, but in the end, this civil war was the orchestration of the wicked Thalmor. They sat comfortably in their cozy towers of Summerset Isles while the world burned below them – they rejoiced from turning men against each other, as Gildarts had proven true once again tonight. It might've been Ulfric Stormcloak who rallied his troops to the gates of Whiterun, but he too was driven by the hatred for the Thalmor.

And he knew he couldn't die while the Thalmor would still be hosting their fancy parties above a burning world, laughing with their glasses of finest brandy. He just couldn't. They had to taste a tragedy they'd brought upon themselves, and if anything, Gildarts would be the one to bring it before leaving this world last.

Trembling, Gildarts stood up. He gasped for air and kept it in, holding his breath until he no longer sobbed. His body ceased to quiver, his magical prothesis' now steady as all of his sorrow turned to hate. It numbed him, dulled all reasonable thought, ignoring the part of him that knew bathing in Thalmor blood wouldn't bring his daughter back.

But it would bring justice.

Gildarts placed his last remaining arm on Cana's urn, gently stroking the cold hard clay. He didn't know if he'd ever return to her grave, so he bid her farewell. Perhaps they'd meet in Sovngarde, if the gods would let his sinful soul in. Until then, this was the final goodbye.

You were taken, I was meant to stay, my loved one.

The city wasn't sleeping yet when Gildarts returned from the Hall of the Dead. The air had gotten colder during the small hours of the night as if a storm was approaching slowly from the north, and more snow had fallen to wrap Whiterun in its white cover. Most of the celebrants had escaped the freezing air indoors, but not all – drunken soldiers were still singing their songs around the many fires, braziers that light the path all the way to the Dragonsreach. Gildarts followed them like a revenant shadow, a mist of dark grief, passing completely unnoticed by each and every soul.

He made no solid plans in his mind, he was driven by hatred alone, without a care of what might happen to him afterwards. He had only one objective: to kill the Thalmor wench residing in the palace, for starters. Then, he'd keep murdering them as long as he'd live, until not a single Thalmor was left. No passing of time could weaken his resolve, not anymore. Natsu and Lucy were now strong enough to keep on the fight, as for him, his own war was the only war he cared about.

Gildarts arrived at the root of the stairway, where the statue of Talos had been torn away. Some Stormcloak soldiers were keeping a moment of silence at where the shrine used to be. The treaty might've re-permitted the worship of Talos on paper, but as long as the Thalmor existed, how many would dare to publicly pray to their god? The shadow the justiciars had cast was long and deadly, and a mere paper would not stop them. This treaty meant nothing to them in the end, Gildarts knew.

Enveloped in the shadows of the night, Gildarts passed by them. He circled around the main stairway to where the dungeons of the palace were and found no guards. Glancing up, he could see the high palace walls contrasting against the dark cloudy skies, as the endless snowflakes danced ever downwards. I can make it easily, he thought, and cast the spell of Levitation upon himself. Becoming as light as a feather, he let the wind carry him upwards, to the towers of the quest chambers.

A little bit to the north was the great porch where a dragon was once captured, but that wasn't a route he wanted to get in. He stopped by a window, intuitively knowing the source of his hatred resided inside. With another spell, he opened the locks on the green glass pane, and he crouched on the opened windowsill.

There he found sleeping Elenwen, the high sorceress and the first emissary of the Thalmor in Skyrim, cozy in her bed. As a cold breeze blew in, he closed the window behind him. Gildarts stood in the darkness for a moment, mocking the highest security that Dragonsreach had to offer. Right now, he could unleash any spell, and slaughter Elenwen in every way imaginable, but he wanted her to be awake. She didn't deserve a clean, painless death, passing out while still slightly drunk on the finest wine.

After contemplating for a moment, he conjured a greataxe to his hand and smirked.

Elenwen woke up to the sound of his spell. Confused, she sat up, her eyes shooting straight to the man who stood next to her bed, holding an axe with two hands.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here? How did you get in?" Elenwen muttered in shock, her gaze then recognizing him. In arrogance, she didn't even bother to call the guards. "Ah, it's you, the filthy Blade. Didn't the terms of the treaty please you? That's why you've come here with that pitiful axe?"

"You wanted war, Elenwen?" Gildarts asked, then raised his axe and swung it forward with full force. "I AM THE WAR! I ALONE!"

Before the axe hit Elenwen's chest, she summoned a powerful ward around her with two frost atronachs to attack him from behind. Gildarts laughed, for this pathetic ward was nothing compared to the wards he had broken at Forelhost. Elenwen had fatally underestimated him. For once, his axe bounced back from the ward, but quickly he infused it with a ward-breaking spell, and struck again. The ward shattered to dust, causing Elenwen to scream. With his other hand, Gildarts sent a force of air to push back the atronachs behind him, then he grabbed the axe again and finally struck it through the elf's chest.

Blood splattered from the wound as Gildarts struck her again, and again, and again. The atronachs disappeared as Elenwen died, her horrified screams fading into silence. With his blood rushing loudly in his ears, he couldn't even hear the steps approaching him, the door opening, the guards shouting – spilling the blood of the Thalmor was all that existed in his world.

"Shor's bones, what is happening?"

"Elenwen is dead!"

"What!?"

"The high sorceress Elenwen was murdered! It's the Blade! The Blade murdered her!"

Sounds of screams from the hallway jolted Lucy awake.

She sat up, listening for a second if the sounds were real or just echoes from a nightmare, but as Natsu woke up too, she knew something terrible had truly happened. Lucy tried to stand, but Natsu stopped her by putting his hand in front of her.

"Elenwen is dead…?" Natsu whispered, knitting his brows in confusion. "But… She's the Thalmor –"

"They said the Blade killed her. Is Gildarts –"

"Oh gods."

Then Natsu stood and rushed to the door like a frightened animal. A guard tried to stop him, but he pushed through and hurried downstairs.

"Natsu!" Lucy shouted as she got up, still failing to comprehend it was real. Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. "Wait!"

"You should stay in your chamber, Dragonborn," said the guard who stepped in. "It's not safe until this incident is dealt with –"

"I have killed dragons. I'm not afraid of any incidents. Now, let me go after him or I'll shout you aside."

The guard glanced at her for a long, but then he let Lucy pass. Natsu was already out of sight, the hallway full of soldiers and guards, each in a similar state of shock as Lucy. A trail of blood led from one of the chambers to the stairway. Lucy fought her way down, squeezing through the guards with her elbows until she arrived in the great hall. The entire Dragonsreach was awake by now, the leftovers from the feast still on the tables.

"Gildarts! What the fuck did you do!?"

Lucy heard Natsu shout before she saw him, standing a fair distance away from the Jarl's throne. She reached him, and there Gildarts was, on his knees on the ground with soldiers around him. If he had killed Elenwen, why had he… surrendered? If he wanted to, he could kill all of them. The soldiers, the jarls, everyone who was keeping him down. But he simply didn't.

"Gave that Thalmor bitch what she deserves," Gildarts answered and glanced over his shoulder. "Now stay out of this, boy."

General Tullius silenced him with the back of his hand. Gildarts's face turned from the strength of the strike, but then he began to laugh. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as he roared in maniacal laughter.

"How dare you laugh? You have committed a serious crime that entirely sabotages the peace treaty we just arranged today. Once the Altmeri Dominion hears about this, there will be war. Can you even grasp the magnitude of your mistake?" General Tullius shouted.

"My mistake? It was the Thalmor's mistake to come here!" Gildarts kept laughing. "But let them come. I shall kill them all."

"Why did you do it? Are you working on Ulfric's behalf? Did he put you to swing the axe and be his scapegoat?"

"I had nothing to do with this!" Ulfric shouted amongst the crowd. "Even though I'm not sad to see our beloved Elenwen in such a skirmished state, I still wouldn't want to demolish the terms of the truce. Whatever drove this man, I –"

"Do not sympathize with him, Ulfric," General Tullius said. "Do we execute him now or send him to Thalmor interrogation?"

"Good, send me to them so I can murder more elves!"

Lucy wrapped her hands around Natsu's trembling arm. His legs were frozen in place as he watched them pressing Gildarts down with their boots. Lucy felt her guts twist – she too remembered how the Imperials executed their prisoners.

"He's lost his mind," Natsu whispered. "Gods, what do we do? They will kill him."

"Natsu," Lucy answered quietly, looking at Gildarts, who was now crying amongst the laughter. The sight wrenched her heartstrings. "I think… I think he wants to go. A sane man would not do this."

Natsu hissed, half in anger, half in grief. "But we need him. He was supposed to go after dragon priests next, but if they –"

"He knew what his actions would bring. If this is the last choice he wanted to make, then –"

"I will not let this happen!" Natsu shouted, tore himself from Lucy's hold and stepped forward, "You can't kill him! Stop it, you fucking bastards!"

Everyone's eyes turned to them. Lucy caught his arm again and pulled him back, but it was no help. He struggled free once again, and she could see in his eyes that he was ready to fight. Lucy held her breath, her chest tightening more and more. Just how, how did it all go straight to Oblivion so fast?

"Dragonborn," Jarl Balgruuf said, "You're an honoured guest, but please, silence your companion. This is a matter you shouldn't intervene any more than you already have. This man was in your company, and now –"

"Yes, you, Dragonborn, have brought an infiltrator into this hall!" General Tullius shouted, his eyes blazing with anger that came perilous close to terror. "We trusted his word and council, yet he murders Elenwen in cold blood! This was all planned, let me tell you all, and you had your part to play in this!"

"Leave the Dragonborn alone, Tullius," Ulfric Stormcloak said fiercely, walking closer to him. "The Blade worked on his own, they always do. You can't condemn her, too!"

Now, the palace was in uproar, with Lucy in the eye of the storm. She stared blankly in front of her as everyone shouted, the fracture between the two sides growing larger with each insult, every threat. Some wanted to execute her, too, as if it would make amends with the Thalmor and prevent another Great War. As Natsu noticed her ever-increasing anguish, he took her into his arms, now ready to defend her instead of Gildarts. They both froze in place, as if it was safer to remain perfectly still, and wait for the storm to pass.

"We will send you all into Thalmor interrogation!" shouted General Tullius, "the Blade, the Dragonborn, and her companion! And you too, Ulfric, if you side with them!"

"Ha! Have you forgotten everything we agreed to just now? The dragons –"

"This butchery will send quakes thorough the Altmeri Dominion, do you not understand that? It will bleed on all of us if we do not manage to fix this and regain their trust!"

"Let me kill them all, that ought to fix the problem for you!" yelled Gildarts, now sobbing. "Just let me fucking kill them!"

Lucy listened closely. Amongst all the shouting, there was something that stirred his insides, a presence lingering at the edge of the night. Far away, but reaching them, and fast. She turned her eyes up to the skull of Numinex, and a shiver ran through her spine. Something was coming, something far worse than this.

"Silence, everyone!" Lucy said, her voice meek from terror. Nobody heard her. "Please, listen to me!"

To no avail, the shouting match continued, some were holding the hilts of their swords, ready to pull them out. Natsu looked at her, worried. "What is it, Lucy?" he whispered.

She shook her head, unable to tell what it was. Even she didn't truly know, not yet. To her, it felt like silence was falling to the hall, and she could only focus on the distant force that approached them like a shadow. Ancient, divine, full of bloodlust – all the hatred in this room was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to it. And then, she recalled one name.

"Alduin."

Natsu's eyes widened at her whisper, and he clutched her tighter. Early this morning, Lucy had used the Thu'um that concealed their presence in Alduin's eyes, but now, even Natsu felt the World-Eater coming. They exchanged a terrified gaze, and then Lucy shouted again.

"Everyone, please! Listen to me!" When nobody noticed, she inhaled deep and imbued Voice into the words. "LISTEN TO ME!"

Only then did Dragonsreach grow quiet. Eyes turned to her again, some full of distrust, respect in only a few. Lucy trembled helplessly, her heart racing in her chest as the pressure in the air grew and grew. She squeezed Natsu's hand tighter and turned her gaze to the doors. Every muscle in her body urged her to run.

"We all must leave, now. It's not safe here," she spoke, causing resistance immediately. "Everyone, get out of –"

"And now the murderers want to exit," General Tullius spat. "Such audacity –"

"We. Must. Leave. Now."

The general laughed, stepping closer to them, his arms spread in disapproval. Whatever he said, Lucy could not hear. As if her head would explode, she shielded her ears with her hands as a roar pierced through the great porch of Dragonsreach. The walls came tumbling down, shattered wood falling through the air as all the candles and braziers were blown out by the force. Darkness fell, and within the darkness, the World-Eater spoke.

"Numinex, ziil do doval ulse! SLEN – TIID – VO! "

And in the skull of the great dragon Numinex, a light sparked in those hollow, long-dead eyes.

A/N: Hi guys! I hope this chapter was bearable lol.

Again, I'm sorry that it took me a while to write this chapter. Got no particular reason, this was just a hard chapter to write. (I totally didn't cry in the bus while writing this on my phone...) So thank you all for the patience and support, it means the world to me!

One thing I'd want to say about this chapter. I was worried that Gildarts's outburst would feel out of character, because he's generally strong and kinda stoic, but I imagined that hearing about Cana's death would just wreck him, and this is the result. But as our old friend appears in the end of the story, Gildarts's outburst serves an important purpose: if he hadn't done that, our heroes would've been sleeping comfortably upstairs while Alduin literally lands on them. Therefore, Cana's death, in all its tragedy, saved their lifes.

See you next time! Hopefully it won't take me as long to write the next one.