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Wide-eyed, she made her way to the plank, ticket clutched to her chest. Any moment now, she half-expected her aunt to come flying down the wharf, screaming her name, calling her back. She prayed to the Divines that she wouldnât come. She wasnât sure she could bear seeing her, not afterâŚ
It wasnât a question of if Aunty would be angry, but how angry she would be, and if that anger would cause her to do more than just drag her back to the house and her cold room with the frost-eaten walls and ice-cracked windows.
Mara shivered, chilled, and tightened her hold on her boarding pass.
When the boarding officer glanced over her paperwork, the same ice that first encroached on her lungs the night Maman left crept closer to her heart. Its chill had been spreading a lot recently, especially since The Night. She didnât want to think of it, but she did, and she would forever.
He took a while.
Then the pass was given back with the appropriate signature, and Mara waved on board, her single small bag in tow.
Settling by the rail, she watched other passengers mill about the deck. The ship would depart soon, course set for Anvil. Sheâd never been to Anvil, hadnât actually left the Iliac Bay. She wondered how the weather would be there, what the people were like, and if anyone would look twice at a young girl on her own.
Probably not in a port city. If she left (and she would, she didnât think she would stay in Anvil), sheâd need a coverâa better cover than what she gave to the immigration officer when buying her ticket.
My mother and father are dead. Iâm going to live with my grandparents in Cyrodiil.Â
Flimsy, easily disproven. But she needed out.
Her grief was certainly real enough to persuade the woman signing her paperwork. She didnât look for another hand to pull her to the next step so easily.
As she contemplated her next move, she watched the billowing sails of so many different kinds of ships rustle across the horizon. Wayrest was full of vessels from across the Empireâand the Dominion, she realized. Imperial Navy and merchant ships, Redguard dhows, Nordic longships, and Breton galleys were all there, yes, as expected, but she saw a Dominion transport fringing the edge. Ornate in white gold and jewel blue, its prow resembled the neck and crown of a bird.
Mara shrank back, against the rail. Would that the deck would swallow her up! But it wouldnât. Sheâd already refused the seaâs offer for her soul and bones. The ship would ignore her turncoat plea.
âYou all right, Miss?â
Mara startled and found to her surprise that a Breton boy had come up beside her, unnoticed. She cursed silently. Sheâd need to be better about noticing people! What if HE was a Dominion Spy? Hadnât Maman always warned about spies from the Dominion? But, Mara reasoned, Maman wasnât here. She was dead. What good did her paranoia get her?
âQuite all right, thank you!â she replied. She couldnât help but return the boyâs playful smile with her own more bashful one. âHow do you do?â
He laughed, clear like the church bellsâthough, on second thought, she decided that wasnât quite right. âIâm just swell!â There was a roguish light in his smile that almost charmed her, like a trickster cat pulling at a ball of string, knowing it would unravel and cause a mess.
At that, Mara rolled her eyes, chiding herself. âQuaint.â She turned away to gaze back out at the other ships and the blue horizon beyond. They should be departing soon, shouldnât they?
âHey, donât be like that!â
âLike what?â she asked despite herself, because the pout she spied from the corner of her eye was a little cuteâpitiful! Pitiful, and she felt sorry for him! Yes.
âLike youâre put off. âM just being silly.â
Relenting, Mara looked back at him. Darn! His pout was turned up in a half-grin! It was prettyâstupid. Definitely that.
âIs this a time for silly?â
âIs it not?â he retaliated.
Mara wasnât sure, and she didnât want to tell him that, so she turned her nose up like UncleâŚlike she was taught, and she resolved to ignore the boy.
âIâm Jaques!â
Still, he did seem friendly, didnât he? It could be nice to talk to someone for a bit. Someone who didnât know her or what sheâd done or question if she was a good person or a monster orââRosette.â
The Breton boy, Jacques, grinned. With his curly dark hair and whiskey eyes, she really was charmed by him in a moment. When he offered his hand, she took it and followed him into the ship.
¡â˘â â˘Âˇ
The bells chimed in the Temple of Kynareth.
Eyes forward, Leara mounted the stairs to Dragonsreach at a steady pace. She would not go into her destiny a quivering mess.
Beside her, Bishop ambled on as if they were barhopping late at night, chasing the alcohol and outrunning the guards. When he returned with her to the inn in Ivarstead, Leara elected to ignore the dark look Balgruuf shot her from beside the hearth. Even as she entered her room, Bishop at her shoulder, with Karnwyr darting to them from beneath a table, she ignored the Jarl. He was not her father, and she was not fifteen, sneaking around with some boy. If she chose to take a man into her room, she would.
And she did so again when they arrived in Whiterun, late the night before.
âŚif she got up later, in the middle of the night, to go sit in quiet meditation beside the cold coals in the barroom, then that was her business. She would thank others to stay out of it, at least until she slew the World-Eater. Then she would be dead, and it wouldnât matter to her what wild yarns they spun into her legend.
Bishop was talking. He never ceased talking, but sheâd learned to tune him out. Occasionally, she heard snatches of âafterâ and âusâ and ârun away,â but she gave them as much attention as she did Balgruufâs disapprovalâthat is, mechanical placation and empty indifference.
She had more important things to focus on at present. Like the trap and Odahviing. Whether or not he could tell her how to get to Sovngarde, andâŚwhat it might cost her to gain that information. On the return trip from High Hrothgar, sheâd pored over the Prose Edda. People would leave her beâfor the most part, Bishop did notâwhen she claimed she was studying the ancient skalds as a means to prepare for the coming confrontation. She dwelled on Olaf One-Eyeâs battle with Numinex for a long time, late into the night while the rest of the traveling party slept in tents and under stars. Despite historical and skaldic discrepancies illuminated through Viarmoâs annotations, Leara knew for certain that the trap would work and it would hold. Would that she could lure Alduin himself into Dragonsreach and be done with it! Perhaps that would keep the armies from invading Whiterun! Surely Balgruuf would forgive her cold shoulder if she made him the World-Eaterâs jailer!
Or perhaps he would curse her ten ways to Sundas. It could go either way. A lesser dragon like Odahviing would be far more manageable.
Before leaving The Bannered Mare, Leara had taken Bishop aside. Between them, Karnwyr stilled. Ever since Bishop rejoined them, the wolf avoided his master. Once, joking, Leara asked if Bishop had done something to offend his pet. Bishopâs scoff and eye roll, punctuated by an âI donât know whatâs gotten into him lately,â and a âHeâs probably spending too much time with your girlyâŚinfluences,â confused her. She did not ask again.
Whatever had upset Karnwyr, she hoped the wolf would settle once she left for Sovngarde. She wouldnât be there to play mediator between wolf and master.
âWhen we go in here,â she said, cutting off whatever rude remark about the Jarl that Bishop was no doubt whetting on his tongue, âI need you to listen to me.â
âWhen donât I, sweetness?â
âAll the time,â she retorted, then, âListen to me: the great porch is about to be overrun. Guards, the Jarl, members of the court, us, and a very angry dragon. He will try to kill you. He will try to kill me and everyone else on that porch. This is going to be more dangerous than anything else weâve faced,ââher confrontation with Alduin at the Throat of the World did not countâ âand I need your focus. If I say run, run, and if I say shoot, you shoot. Do you understand me?â
The poison flame in Bishopâs eyes burned. âYou donât know how hot you sound right now, do you?â
âBishop! Please!â She grabbed his hands. She hated doing so, but touching him always seemed to grab his attention. âHitherto now, every threat weâve encountered has been childâs play. This is an adult situation with adult consequences. In a narrow place like the porch, it can become a furnace very quickly! Dragon fire is to be feared with reason, and weâre about to be up close and personal with it!â
Bishop nodded, and then before she could withdraw her hand, he kissed her knuckles, his eyes never leaving her face. âYouâre in charge, Princess.â
That was another thing, Leara thought as they crossed the bridge to the palace. âPrincess.â Bishop had no shortage of nicknames for her, things he deemed as terms of endearment. Ladyship. Sweetness. A pair of fine legs. But âprincessâ was new. She knew heâd not used it until Ivarstead, until that first night back in bed together when he wrapped her close and buried his mouth in her hair. Had he overheard Esbernâs revelation? Did he know? Or was he trying out a new addition to his ever-expanding list of names to use to avoid using her own? Would she care just as much about another nickname, or was the prickle under her skin because of what she so recently learned? She wanted to ask. She dreaded doing so. It was a mystery that would soon lose any meaning to its resolution.
All speculation. All things she didnât have to concern herself with because she was going to die.
Lips thin, she approached the doors, the faceless guards greeting her with a murmured, âDragonborn.â This time, they opened the doors. Bishop whistled. Leara hurried through, nodding a quiet, âThank you,â as she went.
The grand foyer was still. Neither maid nor child could be seen as Leara led the way up the stairs to the great hall. The last time she was in Dragonsreach, she asked Jarl Balgruuf to let her trap a dragon in his keep. Now she was here to see that task through. Around and above her, the yellow braziers crackled, merry and cheerful and so unlike dragon fire. She prayed to the Divines that that was all the fire Dragonsreach would see, that she could contain the dragon to the porch. If things got out of handâŚbut they wouldnât. This dragon was not Alduin. Hadnât she proven before that she could manage a regular dragon? She slew Mirmulnir on the plain, frost and katana in hand, a team of guards behind her. Sahloknir she caught like a bat in a trap under the cover of darkness. Then there was Golzkreinyol, killed on the road to Riverwood following her infiltration at the Thalmor Embassy. And lastly, significantly, there was Venstrunbo, slain on the way to Windhelm with Bishop as her audience. Her failure with Alduin at the Throat of the World was not that he was a dragon, but that he was the embodiment of the end times and the doom of all. If she died in Sovngarde, staving off his tyranny, so be it. That was her fate. But it would be because she fell to Alduin.
Odahviing would not have such pleasure. She would slay him herself before she let him kill her.
Jarl Balgruuf was not in his throne, nor was the court gathered there. Scarcely, however, did they reach the dais when Hrongar, Jarl Balgruufâs brother, met them. During her previous visits to the keep, Hrongar had never taken much notice of her. It wasnât until the day she slew Mirmulnir that he truly spoke to her, and then it was to instill in her the importance of the Dragonborn in Nordic tradition. Where Balgruuf was the cautious politician, Hrongar was all bullheaded warrior, ready to do whatever it took to defend Whiterun and uphold his familyâs honor. Leara wasnât surprised that he would be right in the middle of her scheme with the dragon. Hrongar was always itching for a fight, and whatâs a bigger fight than inviting a dragon into his brotherâs palace?
âI still canât believe you got my brother to agree to this,â was his greeting, amusement flickering around his eyes.
 âItâs the necessary next step if thereâs any hope of defeating the World-Eater. Iâm thankful Jarl Balgruuf sees that too.â
Hrongar grinned at her. Behind her, Bishop growled, so low that Leara was sure Hrongar didnât hear it, but still.
âYou have the Greybeardsâ blessing,â Hrongar said, ignoring the agitated ranger. Of course, Bishop wasnât the Dragonborn, so Hrongar wouldnât care who he was. That such dismissal would just offend Bishop more flitted in a thought through Learaâs mind, but she waved it away. If Bishop caused a problem, it would soon be something she wouldnât have to share. âMy brother tells me you have the means of trapping this dragon and taking down Alduin. For a pointy ear, Iâm impressed with your handling of this. Itâs the Nord way of things, no doubt!â He boomed a laugh.
Akatosh, did Hrongar just compliment her? Divines be damned, and now slaughterfish will fly.
âSheâs more Nord than you!â Bishop spat.
Pardon, what?
For the first time, Hrongar actually looked at Bishop, âWhat are you babbling about, Snowback?â
Leara threw out an arm to prevent Bishop from darting forwardâshe knew he wouldâbut he brushed by her, a sneer twisting his mouth. âYou talk about her being some great hero, like you didnât think she could do it, but this woman is ten times the Nord you or your blue-balled brother could ever be! Sheâs putting her ass on the line to cover yours like you're all a bunch a snot-nosed brats in soiled pants! Sheâs not your nursemaid! Stop sucking on her tits!â
Or thatâs what Bishop would have said. Before âYou talk about herââ fell in full from his mouth, Leara cast Muffle over him. Hrongar stared, stunned, as Bishopâs mouth kept moving in voiceless rage. Beside them, Karnwyr ducked his head, embarrassment clear even on a wolfâs face.
âI beg youâll excuse him,â Leara said, âHe got rather drunk last night and hasnât quite moved from intoxicated to hungover yet.â
Hrongar grunted. âItâs on his head then if he stumbles like a fool into the dragonâs maw.â
That would certainly save Leara from needing to do more damage control, wouldnât it? Regardless⌠âShall we get on with it then?â
âYeah, follow me. The porch is this way.â
By then, Bishop seemed to realize neither Leara nor Hrongar could hear him. He tugged on Learaâs arm as she made to follow Hrongar, who was already striding toward the steps at the back of the hall. Rolling her eyes, Leara waved her hand, and the Muffle spell covered her, too.
ââbelieve you did that to me again!â
âI wouldnât have to if youâd not insult everyone who talks to me!â
âHey,â Bishop snapped, âI didnât insult the damn innkeeper!â
âNo, you were too busy staring at the serving girlâs arse!â
âSo?â
Just a little patience, Leara chanted in her head. Just a little longer, and then youâll be gone, and Bishop can go screw all his bloody feelings for you into the damn serving girl.
Tone measured, cool, Leara spoke. âWe are going to the porch. You are not going to talk to the court while I handle this business. Youâre going to listen to me up there like youâre going to listen to me now, all right? And maybe,â silver pulled on her tongue, âlater, when the whole nasty unpleasantness is over,â the silver dripped over her lips as she leaned just sotoward Bishop. His eyes glazed, focused on her, her mouth, the silver webs she was spinning just for him, âIâll make everything worth your while.â
âWait,â Bishopâs head was trying desperately to keep up with his second brain, it seemed. âYou meanââ
âYes.â Not at all. But he didnât need to know that, did he?
A growl purred from Bishop, but unlike the threat he thought he was issuing to Hrongar before, this was pure desire. âDominate me all you want on that porch, darling, but know that when weâre alone tonight, youâll be the one surrendering.â
âYou can count on it,â Leara fluttered her eyelashes, then, grabbing his arm, she dragged a quite pleased Bishop toward the stairs, her Muffle dissipating around them. She ignored the watchful eyes of Karnwyr; dogsâand wolves, sheâd foundâcould always tell when something was wrong, and Karnwyr was especially attuned with her emotions. She couldnât face her own anxiety and fear reflecting back at her from Karnwyrâs sad, dark eyes. So she ignored him.
Hrongar was waiting at the base of the stairs, eyebrow raised in question as she approached, Bishop pulled behind her. âSobering him up,â she told Hrongar by way of explanation. She wagged her fingers at him, ice crystals and pale light dancing between her gloved digits. Like most Nords, Hrongar had a distrust of magic that could rival some folksâ aversion to government. At her little display, Hrongar scowled and turned up the stairs.
Good, he wouldnât get in Bishopâs crosshairs again.
¡â˘â â˘Âˇ
So, this is where everyone is, Leara thought as she, Bishop, Karnwyr, and Hrongar stepped onto the porch. Jarl Balgruuf stood forward and off-center, eyes following several of his guardsmen as Irileth directed them into position for the coming trap. Everything was there. They were just waiting. Waiting for her to take the stage.
And what a stage she had! The great porch of Dragonsreach was a cavernous stone hall lined with roaring fire-filled brasiers. On any other occasion, it might have housed long tables and decorations, symbols of Whiterunâs nobility and history. Today, however, the high walls and the sweeping tiles were clear, prepared in wait for the coming dragon. At the end of the porch, a wide curving balcony offered a panoramic view of the tundra and the boreal mountains bordering the Pale to the northeast. The view was stunning, but it was the contraption overhead that drew Learaâs eye. A yoke, alike to those used on livestock in the field, hung above her head, a prison and a marvel held by great chains older than the last three ages. Midway down the porch were two rests where the yoke would be locked in place, preventing the dragon from throwing it off and breaking free. It was magnificent. It was horrifying. A pit settled in the bottom of Learaâs stomach at the sight. In another time in this same place, that yoke bore down on Numinex, driving him mad in isolation, his pride and strength broken by mortal men. What would it do to Odahviing?
Jarl Balgruuf met her, then, drawing her eyes from the dragonâs yoke. His face grim and eyes hard, tired, as if he had gotten as much sleep as Leara had the night before. That is, barely any at all. Balgruuf hardly spared Bishopâs specter over Learaâs shoulder a first glance before addressing her. âBrother, Dragonborn,â he greeted them, voice not quite as warm as in the past.
âJarl Balgruuf,â right fist over her heart, Leara bowed her head.
âItâs that time, then, Dragonborn,â Balgruuf went on, âAs I promised, the great chains are oiled, and my men stand at the ready. Weâre ready to spring this trap. You do have a plan, donât you, lass?â
Her understanding of Dragonrend burned through her soul, too hot, and her studies of the Poetic Edda churned through her mind. âI do, as sound as any plan is when calculating for a live dragon.â
Balgruuf nodded, âMy men know what to do. They await your word.â He paused, then, âMy cityâs in your hands, lass, Iâm trusting you to protect it.â
It wouldnât be the first time, but it was definitely the most pivotal. âIâll protect it with my life,â she assured him with a soft smile.
Beside her, Bishop grumbled wordlessly, but remained otherwise quiet, thank Akatosh.
Balgruufâs eyes flicked past Leara, then back to her, movement hardly noticeable. âHrongar,â he said, âwould you take the Dragonbornâs companion to the upper balcony? As an archer, thatâs the best place for him.â
âLike Hell Iâm going up there!â Bishop cried, stepping forward. Despite being some distance away, Irilethâs gaze turned toward them, crimson and blazing with warning. Karnwyr whined. Bishop turned to Leara. âLadyship, do you actually expect me to leave your side when you call this oversized gecko down here?â
Flames threatened to blaze hot embarrassment across her face, but she doused them with years of training. âYes,â she said, voice cool. âI expect you to listen to Jarl Balgruuf the Greater.â Bishop glared, opening his mouth to fire off again, but Leara had had enough before they ever reached the palace. âIf he tells you to shoot the dragon, shoot it, and if he tells you to jump off the porch, do that too!â
Hrongar laughed, loud and full. Balgruuf didnât, but he was clearly just as amused if the pull at the corner of his mouth was anything to go by. Even Karnwyr wagged his tail at his masterâs expense!
âBullshit!â Bishop snapped, face red.
âBishop,â Leara sighed, and she raised an eyebrow at him. Remember what we talked about. She fluttered her eyelashes
Bishop opened his mouth. Closed it again. Did a fish impression for a moment or two, then swore under his breath. âFine,â he acquiesced, âWhatever.â
Bishop went off with Hrongar, who was still chuckling.
âYou too,â Leara said, gentle as she brushed a hand over Karnwyrâs head and ears. The wolf blinked up at her, eyes soulful and pleading, but Leara wouldnât have him in the line of fire. âCanât have you as dragon bait, even if you're cute enough to eat!â
Karnwyr wagged his tail, preening under her attention, then, with one last long look too knowing for an animal, he loped off to the stairs after Bishop. Leara watched him go.
âAre you all right, lass?â
Now alone with the Jarl, Learaâs shoulders sank, not quite as sure as sheâd set out to be when she first arrived. âI will be,â she admitted, not quite meeting his gaze. He was worried for her. Sheâd known that this whole time. She wantedâbut she couldnât. This was the beginning of the final chapter. She didnât need to drag Balgruuf into herâŚwhatever she had with Bishop.
âLeara, is heââ
âLetâs spring this trap, Jarl Balgruuf.â With that, she strode toward the balcony.
He walked beside her. âWhat is your plan?â
A clever little grin tugged her mouth out of her previous mode. Ah, yes! Her plan! âIâm going to call the dragon.â
âCall the dragonâŚ?â Balgruuf frowned. They came out on the porch balcony where a handful of guards already waited. A moment later, Irileth joined them.
âYes, call him!â repeated Leara, absently studying the vivid blue skies of a cloudless morning in high summer. Wonderful visibility! âWith my Thuâum, naturally. The dragon will come because itâs my Thuâum issuing the challenge. See, ever since that day at the watchtower, ever since the Greybeards went and told everyone under Magnus that there is a Dragonborn, dragons seem almost giddy to test themselves against me!â The souls tucked inside her own stirred in recognition of her greater power. Balgruuf stared at her.
âIs that why the beast attacked the watchtower?â Irileth asked, unimpressed.
âExcuse me, Housecarl,â one of the guards chimed in. He coughed, nervous, as the Dragonborn, the Jarl, and his Housecarl focused on him. The man cleared his throat. âThat was before the Greybeardsâ summons, remember? The dragon that attacked us at the Western Watchtower came before anyone knew the Dragonborn was, well, the Dragonborn.â
Leara blinked in recognition, the guardâs features visible through the helmetâs open faceplate. âYou were at the watchtower that day, werenât you?â
The guard bobbed his head. âAye, maâam. Nameâs Gardbrand.â
âWell, Gardbrand,â Leara said, a pep in her voice as she turned toward the open sky. âYouâre an old hand at this dragon business!â Then to Balgruuf, âGive the word, itâs time.â
But Balgruuf hesitated. âWhat happens once you call this dragon down on us?â
âIsnât it obvious?â she asked. âIâm going to bait him into the trap. As easy as luring a fox intoââ
ââinto a henhouse,â Gardbrand finished. Leara nodded.
Irileth, studying the landscape, sighed. âLetâs get this over with.â
âAye,â agreed the Jarl. The two made their way back under the cover of the porch. His voice rang out against the stones. âReady, men! Get in position!â
âIâd hang back if I were you,â Leara told Gardbrand, âThis balcony is about to get crowded.â
âIf itâs all the same, Dragonborn, the Housecarl ordered some of us men to stand ready at the balcony,â he explained.
Of course she did. âGood man,â Leara said instead. âBut at least get out of the line of fire, will you? I donât want anyone getting hurt because of this.â Except me.
With a short nod, Gardbrand took up a station at the edge of the balcony, right by the mouth of the porch.
Leara stood alone. All eyes on her.
Feim. Zii.
It was time.
Drawing in a lungful of air, sweetened by flowering cotton and wheat from the farms around Whiterun. Farms in danger if her plan failed. Whiterunâs safety was the central lodestone in the mass weighing her shoulders. All of SkyrimâTamriel and existence itselfâwas doomed if Alduin was allowed to continue his tyranny, but today, right now, it wasnât Alduin that threatened Whiterun. It was Leara and Odahviing, and her plan to trap him.
Best get it over with.
âOD AH VIING!â
Rushing wind like the hush of snowfall billowed from her mouth, a coming winter chilling the summer.
The world was still.
Behind her, a murmur of voices whispered. Guards, the Jarl, others.
âWhere is it?â someone asked. âWhereâs the dragon?â
âThe Thuâum,â someone else said in awe.
âDo youâwait, what was that?â
âThe wind, Snorri! Stop shaking!â
As her Voice sprang against the stones and danced on the wind up and away from Dragonsreach, out over the tundra and to the mountains beyond, Leara watched. One hand on the hilt of her katana, crystal eyes cut across the distant horizon. Was that a speck of movement off to the east, or a glare from the sun? A flicker of red appeared above a snowcapped ridge. Sky whales! the skalds in the Poetic Edda waxed whimsical about.
A dragon, her practicality realized as the flicker grew larger. The dragon! Odahviing!
âShorâs bones!â
Akatosh give her strength!
Still, she held her position. Another Shout poised on her tongue. Divines help her, may she only have to utter Dragonrend once for this! The burning horror that seared across her soul when she used Dragonrend on the Throat of the World fought to be at the forefront of her mind, the pain and fear distracting her focus from the present. When she learned the Shout that prophecy said would cast down the World-Eater, its understanding dug into filling her with a mortal dread unlike anything else she could imagine. Whatâs worse, was that she knew she must use it again now, and again later when she met Alduin in Sovngarde. Now that the moment had arrived, that knowledge alone was almost enough to send her running from the porch. Her legs itched to flee.
Leara held her ground. She would not run.
Her hand tightened on her katanaâs hilt.
Wait, where was the dragon?
Night fell across the porch balcony. Thunder roared. No, not thunder, not the night! The dragonâOdahviing flew from over the top of the keep, his wings casting Leara and her surroundings into deep shadow. His roar shook the air, loud, challenging. He was large, scales crimson between silvery snow blue wings like a bloom of blood on the ice. But, Leara noted, he was neither as large nor his horns as towering as Alduinâs. He was, as she previously thought, a very average-looking dragon, if a bit brilliant for his coloring.
Odahviing roared; a guttural thunderclap without the focus of a Word of Power, the power of his Voice still shook the air. Leara froze. Dragonrend! Dragonrend now!
Her mouth fell open.
Nothing came out.
âSteady! Steady now! Keep under cover until itâs down!â Balgruufâs voice boomed behind her, carrying with it all the power she couldnât muster.
Odahviing, heedless of her simply standing in a dumb stupor, circled back around to the balcony. âDovahkiin! Het zuâu los!â Then with wide jaws, the dragon snatched a guard from the edge of the balcony and flung him through the air. Too stunned even to scream, the guardsman flew in a wide arch, then fell, disappearing beyond the edge of the porch to the tundra hundreds of feet below. A scream, a womanâs scream and not a dragonâs Shout, rang in Learaâs throat, her hand outstretched.
Gardbrand!
No. No. She would not freeze. She would not let this Odahviing kill anyone else. She was Dovahkiin. She was the one with the power to challenge the World-Eater. She would quell this worm and crush him under her boot.
âJOOR ZAH FRUL!â
Pain blistered in white-hot fracture lines, spiraling across her chest and through her veins like a poison. Death kissed her, its breath filling her lungs with decay and dread so deep that she drowned in the noxious fumes. The Shout tore from her mouth, from her soul and blood, and crashed into Odahviing. Hardly had Leara caught her breath, choking on a pain more spiritual than physical, when she saw the looming weight of the dragon coming for her, bound to mortality and the dust of the earth like any finite being.
Moving from the growing shadow was one of the hardest things she ever had to do, but Leara managed it. Once her feet were moving under her, she found she could almost breathe again. Body twirling, she drew her katana, a slight tremor betraying her wavering spirit.
She faced the dragon.
His knees and the joints of his winged forelimbs were buckled, bowed into the floor. His head was lowered, but his eyes were on her. Focused with intention and a dawning realization.
Did he, did he not realize until she crushed him to the floor that it was she who called him there? She who issued the challenge? Did Gardbrand die because Odahviing didnât realize, didnât care to know, that the Dragonborn was neither a man nor a Nord? âŚhad Alduin ever let on just who and what the Dragonborn was?
Frost and fury flared in a blizzard within her breast, brushing away the remnants of Dragonrendâs hold as she faced the dragon. He would know who she was!
For a moment, all was silent as the Dragonborn and her opponent locked eyes.
Then the symphony of yelling guardsmen and barked orders crashed into her ears.
Air whistled, and then an arrowâone of Bishopâs, she recognizedâbounced off one of Odahviingâs horns. It clattered to the ground, useless, but it was enough. More arrows began to rain down, a slanted sheet against the dragon. Odahviing roared, again wordless, but agitation clear.
âFall back!â Leara cried over her shoulder, though she didnât take her eyes from the dragon. âDonât kill him!â She didnât want to think of what a headache that would cause! âFall back!â And she danced back.
Twirling her katana blade in an arc, she pushed air into her lungs, desperate to appear collected as she performed her part.
It was like threading a needle, leading Odahviing under the cover of the porch. She danced just out of reach of his red maw, her silver boots tapping across the tiles as she skirted backward. His eyes were focused on her. Almostâ
âI will conquer where Alduin failed!â Odahviingâs voice drummed against her ears. Leara didnât have time to over what he meant, because the next moment the world was on fire.
âYOL TOR SHUL!â
âYOL!â she Shouted, countering his flame with her own. Hers swirled in a white gold blaze into the heart of his flames, cutting the inferno down. Heat wafted through the porch. Odahviingâs fire was unlike Paarthurnaxâs. When Paarthurnax greeted her, his fire was a heat so intense that reason told her she should incinerate the moment she felt it, yet its brush over her was so gentle that it was like being cradled when she was a small child. Paarthurnaxâs Thuâum brought comfort. But while Odahviingâs flame was nowhere near as hot as Paarthurnaxâs, there was nothing soft about it either. Broiling with pride, it was easy to understand why the other dragons considered Odahviing a hothead!
People yelled around her. Someone would be spotting for her to signal for the yoke to fall once Odahviing was in place, she was sure. Andâyes! She spied Balgruuf watching intently, his sword in hand and his mouth moving as he barked orders that she couldnât quite hear over the dragonâs noise. She thought she heard a bark, and was glad that Karnwyr was out of harmâs way.
She spun back, a whirl of Frost Cloak cocooning her, and Odahviing lunged forward, jaws snapping where she once stood.
âCome along, little snapping turtle!â she sang, ice crystals tightening into a shield, making her brave. âHere I am! Catch me!â
Where Dragonrendâs grip on her had loosened into a faint ache, soothed by movement and magic, it still held an iron fist on Odahviing. He growled, low and deep, shaking the flood underfoot. His eyes, obsidian dark, glared at her with a heat nearly as hot as the Thuâum. He calwed his way forward, intent in his pursuit.
Leara laughed and danced ahead.
âNOW!â The command sprang out, and then with a heave, the trap was sprung. Clang! The chattering of the chains screamed through the air; then, with a groan, the yoke fell. Heavy, broad, it came down on Odahviingâs shoulders like a headmanâs axe, pinning his wing joints down and forcing him a roar and a groan into the floor. Trapped. Snared. A prisoner in Dragonsreach!
âNid!â howled Odahving.
By the Nine, theyâd done it!
Laughter continued to bubble out of Leara, not mocking, but relieved, sincere, and perhaps a little disbelieving, because, sweet, sweet Mara and her multitudes of mercies, the plan worked! Paarthurnax would be so proud of her! It worked!
âWe got him!â Balgruuf cried. He was at Learaâs side in an instant, light and relief shining in his face. Irileth was right behind him, less joyful but just as relieved that the plan worked. âThis is amazing! Iâll be famouser than Olaf One-Eye himself! Irileth! Do you see? Weâve caught a dragon!â
âYes, my Jarl, I see him,â replied Irileth, only marginally impressed.
âHorvutah med kodaav. Dii paak los zok.â Odahviing rumbled. What was he saying, she wondered.
âSweetness! Princess!â
Weight hit her shoulders, and Leara found Bishop pressed into her side, his arms around her. He was panting, catching his breath. Oh, he ran down, didnât he? Maybe he should lay off the mead. Feeling awkward, Leara patted his forearm where it pressed against the collar of her armor. âItâs quite all right,â she told him, trying to be reassuring.
His hold tightened. âThat scaly bastard tried to roast you alive!â   Â
âBut he didnât!â Leara reminded Bishop. As evidenced by his very tight hold of her completely intact upper body. The sting of Dragonrend under her skin flared. Ow. She cleared her throat. âYou can let go now.â
Bishopâs hold tightened. Then, at her look, he pulled his arms away, thankfully without fuss. Sheâd take that victory too, while she was at it.
           Hrongar appeared beside his brother. Standing before Odahviing, pinned under the yoke his ancestor used on another dragon, Hrongar let out a low whistle. âIâll be damned, we caught the dragon! Now what do we do with it?â
âThatâs what I was wondering,â said Balgruuf, crossing his arms. âWhatâs the next step, Leara?â
She released a slow breath. âIâm going to talk to him.â
âIâm sorry, what?â Bishop sputtered in her ear. âTalk to it? Like, like itâs a person?â
âWhy, yes, he has language! And intelligence! Where else do you think the Words of Power come from?â she asked, somewhat aghast but truly not at all surprised that Bishop would consider dragons as little more than mindless beasts. He would be the type to think he was smarter than a dragon, of all things, wouldnât he? âHere, let go.â
Bishopâs hold on her held.
âBishop.â
âBest let her be about her business, lad,â Balgruuf said, tone hard. He pressed a large hand into Bishopâs shoulder. âLet her go.â
Bishop scowled down at the Jarlâs hand. Irilethâs moved toward her sword. But then Bishop let go, and Leara propelled herself forward and away from him. Not frantically, no. She strode forward with purpose. She came to a stop before Odahviing. He was watching her, eyes trailing her movements as she came forward to meet him.
âDrem Yol Lok,â she greeted.
The dragonâs head tilted to the side, assessing her. âZok frini grind ko grah drun viiki, Dovahkiin.â
She stared at him. What did he just say? She resisted the urge to look back at Balgruuf or another Nordâsomeone who might know something of the dragon tongue, or at least more than her! Might the court wizard know? Farengar was certainly very interested in all things dragon! Would he know enough to be an effective translator? Hopefully? She hadnât considered what to do if this dragon didnât speak Cyrodilic like Paarthurnax or Vulthuryol. Though, how did the dragon in Blackreach know the modern common tongue after millennia shut in the dark? Could it be that because the dragon tongue was a system built around true understanding and the power of language that dragons were able to learn language in a way mortal minds couldnât fathom? Did it have anything to do with dragons as spiritual beings beyond the confines of the material world? Dragon language acquisition was not something she ever considered before she began learning Words of Power, but now Leara wondered if perhaps that was why sheâd never had trouble picking up other languages.
âHi tinvaak Dovahzul?âÂ
That was a question, she realized, recognizing tinvaak. Was he asking her if she spoke his language? âMy apologies,â she said, âbut Iâm not very familiar with your tongue.â
Turning his head to the other side, Odahviing continued to stare at her. âKrosis, dii mey. My own folly goes unchecked, it seems.â Oh, thank the Nine! She could understand him! âMy...eagerness to meet you in battle was my...undoing, Dovahkiin,â he said at length, drawing out words as if meditating on their meaning in the same way Paarthurnax bade her do with the dragon tongue. âI salute your, hmm, low cunning in devising such a grahmindol,strategem. Zuâu bonaar, you went to much trouble to put me in such aâŚhumiliating position." Despite his complaint, Odahviing seemed actually impressed with her trick.
She couldnât help the swell of pleasure in her at that.
âOf course,â she said, all heroic professionalism, âUnderstand, please, that I didnât merely trick you to show you off as a trophy to the local Nords. Something so trivial is hardly the outcome I want from this.â
âNid, hind siiv Alduin. You wish to know where Alduin has flown.â
âYes, precisely,â Leara clasped her hands behind her back, leaning forward just so in interest. âDo you happen to know where heâs hiding?â
Odahviing snorted. "Rinik vazah. An apt phrase. Alduin bovul.â He shook his great horned head. âOne reason I answered your challenge was my wish to test your Thuâum for myself. There is talk among many of us, questioning Alduinâs lordship. Many have begun to doubt that his Thuâum is still strongest.â To Learaâs mild surprise, Odahviing chuckled. âOnly between ourselves, of course. Mu ni meyye. No one of us is yet ready to defy him so openly.â
How curious! Were the dragons waiting for her to prove her Thuâum over Alduinâs, or were they waiting for him to crush her and assert his tyranny over all once more? It was probably best not to ask. She didnât think she wanted to know the answer. âYou were just telling me where to find Alduin, yes?â
"Unslaad krosis. Innumerable pardons,â Odahviing apologized, not sorry at all. âI digress. He has flown to Sovngarde, where he seeks to gather his strength by devouring the sillesejoor,. the souls of the mortal dead. A privilege he jealously guards,â Odahviing growled, his disdain for Alduinâs keeping such a feast evident. Leara raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. âHe keeps his door to Sovngarde in Skuldafn, one of his ancient fanes high in the eastern mountains. Mindoraan, pah ok middovahhe lahvraan til. I surely do not need to warn you that all his remaining strength is marshalled there.â
âAll of them?â she asked, voice far calmer than she felt. All of his remaining strength? What did that mean? She rocked back on the balls of her feet, new information swirling in her mind.
âGeh. Zu'u lost ofan hin laan, now that I have answered your question, you will allow me to go free?"
Glancing up at Odahviing, she nearly choked on her own laughter. Still, she shot the dragon a wry smile. âAnd let you go racing back to tell Alduin Iâm on to him? No, thank you. I think the Jarl of Whiterun could use you as a guest for a while longer.â
âLeara,â said Jarlâs voice rang out behind her, not nervous, but not entirely enthused by the prospect of a dragon as an extended houseguest either. âI donât want any dragons living in my city and endangering my people!â
âOh, you neednât worry, Jarl Balgruuf!â she called, all bravado. âYou can make an exception for Odahviing here! Heâs very polite!â
Neither Balgruuf nor Odahviing found that very funny. Well, phooey them.
âHmm, krosis. There is one...detail about Skuldafn I neglected to mention," the dragon hummed, almost sing-song, almost âI know something you donât know.â
Leara was on guard again at once. âWell, go on, then! I imagine I wonât like this, and that amuses you, doesnât it?â
"Only this,â began Odahviing, âYou have the Thu'um of a dovah, but without the wings of one, you will never set foot in Skuldafn. Of course,â he added, rather sly. Leara raised an eyebrow. âI could fly you there. But not while imprisoned like this."
âOh, is that all?â she laughed, even while the guards around her exchanged looks. There were ways to fly. Old levitation spells, forbidden by the Arcane University and the Empire, but the University was gone, and she herself was forbidden within the Empire for what she was. She could find those! Maybe the College of Winterhold had the secret? Surely they had scrolls on that or some other spell that could carry her over the mountains! Or maybe, perhaps, could she go to the Throat of the World without darkening Master Arngeirâs door? Could she seek Paarthurnaxâs help for this final journey? There were options; she had options. âIf wings are all I need, then, Odahviing, what do I need you for?â
Odahviing reared back, or rather, he would have if not for the restraint of the yoke on his shoulders. Bishop appeared at her side, brows knit. âSweetness, what are you doing?â he hissed.
âNegotiating,â she told him, âNow let me talk to the nice dragon, will you?â
âSurely you see the position youâre in, Dovahkiin,â said Odahviing. âYou are but a mortal koordin. Your dovah silcannot help you. I can.â
How she wanted Paarthurnax! He would know what to do right now. Were she to free him, could she trust Odahviing enough to carry her to Skuldafn? Could she afford not to? âHeâs coming soon,â she murmured. Bishop glanced at her. The longer she delayed, the more Alduinâs strength would grow, grow until he came back to Tamriel. But Paarthurnaxâ âI cannot reach him in time,â she realized. She couldnât do anything else. Time was more than short; it was gone. It was trust Odahviing or nothing. âYou demand a great deal of trust for a serpent caught in a snare. One might believe youâll say anything to free yourself. However, Iâm not interested in dancing around an impasse with you. I have work to do, and a deadline by which to do it.â Course decided, she turned to the Jarl and his men. âRelease the trap.â
Next to her, Bishop was already shaking his head. âYou have got to be kidding me!â
âQuite serious, I promise.â
âLass,â Balgruuf was quick to join her. âDo you think this is wise, freeing it?â
Ah, so that was it. Balgruuf didnât want the dragon to stay in his keep, but he didnât want to let Odahviing off so easily. Had Balgruuf thought this whole time that she would slay the dragon and be on her merry way once she got what she wanted? Again, Numinexâs skull mounted over the Jarlâs throne taunted her. She could almost see Odahviingâs enshrined beside it. That was what Balgruuf wanted. Grateful as she was for his help, Leara couldnât let him have his prize. âOh, Jarl Balgruuf, itâs not wise at all! But it is necessary,â she said at length. Then she offered Odahviing a bright smile. âI suppose Iâll have to trust you to do whatâs necessary, too, wonât I?â
âOf course, Dovahkiin.â
âAye, youâre right, again, I suppose,â Balgruuf sighed. âTake word upstairs,â he told a guardsman. âThe Dragonborn wants to free this dragon. We await her signal.â
The guard grumbled. âAye, sir, though it seems like a really bad idea to me.â
âOn with you, soldier. This is all part of the Dragonbornâs plan,â Jarl Balgruuf dismissed.
Bowing, the guard left. Irileth huffed but went about directing the men on the ground.
Leara supposed she could leave at once, couldnât she? There was nothing left in her room in The Bannered Mare. Her tab with Hulda was paid. Karnwyr wasâKarnwyr! There! At her beckoning hand, he darted from the far side to her, tongue wagging. Good, he was okay, and Bishop was here; Bishop would take care of him, as always. Or at least until the next time bandits running a fighting ring decided Karnwyr was an easy target, and then she hoped the next person who agreed to help Bishop get him back fared better than she! Yes, everything was settled. She had everything she ownedâeverything she needed with her. It was time.
She turned to go.
âAre you insane!â Bishop was in front of her at once, blocking her pathâagain. âYou are going to trust that, that overgrown lizard and fly it?â
Leara sighed. âYou heard him as well as I did, Bishop. Thereâs no other way to get to Skuldafn! Thereâs no time to find another road. This is my path, and I must walk it. Or, well, fly it, I suppose,â she amended after a moment.
âGods, you are insane!â Bishopâs whole body shook, whether in anger or disbelief, though, she wasnât sure. His hands flexed at his sides, as if to grasp her and pull her into him once more, but he clenched his fist as tightly as he ground his jaw. âShould have known all that head trauma would get to you, sooner or later,â he hissed, drawing into himself as if, as if she betrayed him or something. Had she? No. He went on, âI will not stick my neck out for you this time!â
Her own body was shaking. Nerves. âI never asked you to!â
âMaybe not with your fancy words, but everything Iâve done has been for you! Because of you! No more! Iâm done! Iââ he hesitated, as if he wanted to go on but couldnât bring himself to. At once, Bishop rounded away from her, a dark shadow, and stormed into the palace.
âBishop, Bishop! Wait!â she cried as he disappeared through the doors. Wait for what, though? Not her. Not her. ButâŚshe glanced down at Karnwyr. Beloved, sweet, loyal Karnwyr, who was watching her now with the saddest, most knowing eyes. She brushed a loving hand over his ears, one last time. Then, running to the doors, she yanked one open. âGo,â she told the wolf. âGo and please make sure he doesnât do anything stupid. Iââ Now she was lost for words. Leara swallowed. Karnwyr, sensing her heart anyway, always, licked her gloved fingers and went through the door, head and tail bowed to the ground.
Why did she want to cry? She couldnât. Not now. There wasnât time.
âYOL TOR SHUL!â
Dragon fire heated the air. Leara hadnât noticed Balgruuf or his brother leave, but she was thankful they werenât sitting front row to her argument with Bishop. Rather, now they were trying to pull Farengar, the court wizard, out of Odahviingâs reach.
What was that idiot doing!
âI just wanted a couple of small samples! Nothing that this, this Odahviing would miss!â the mage was defending as Irileth pulled him back by the forearm. Shorter than Farengar though she was, Irileth outclassed the mage in every other class, and perhaps even in battle magic, if Leara had to guess.
âThatâs enough, Farengar,â Balgruuf was saying, frowning as he crossed his arms. âThe time will come for your experiments later. The Dragonborn needs this dragon unspoiled.â
âYes, yes, I do,â Leara said, joining them. Farengar had the decency to look at least a smidge bashful. But only a smidge. Leara gave Jarl Balgruuf another Bretic bow. âThank you, Jarl, for all your help, and for entrusting me with your cityâs safety. Iâm sorry that my plan cost one of your guards his life.â The sight of Gardbrand disappearing over the balcony edge still swam in her mind. She swallowed. âIâm ready to release the dragon.â
Things happened very quickly after that. The chains were wound, the yoke was lifted, and soon, Leara was standing beside Odahviing on the edge of the balcony. The skies of Skyrim spread out before her, brilliant blue and deep. She flew before, when Vulthuryol bore her and Karnwyr to the Tower of Mzark, but this, this was different. This was the open sky, not a cavern in the depths of the earth. How much more would flying feel with Odahviing?
âHere we are, lass,â Balgruuf said, staring out over the northern reaches of his Hold. âSeems like yesterday you were bringing news of Helgen to my doorstep, and now here we are.â
âHow time flies,â Leara murmured.
He clapped her on the shoulder, not hard. There was a camaraderie and respect between them, despite Learaâs past missteps. âNow, Leara,â he went on, âI wonât be denied a third time! When you come back, Iâll be making you a thane in my court! Itâs only right, after all youâve done for my people and all of Skyrim.â
That he believed she could survive the World-Eater was a sweet, if shortsighted, thought. She was a traitor and a runaway. Committing herself to the Dragonbornâs destiny, pursuing it to the end, was that not her final bow? Her life for all, the redemption of her every past misdeed, her betrayals and cowardice? Her mind went to Ulfric Stormcloak for a moment, just one, to the man she saved after serving the hand that would have killed him. Saving him didnât make up for her sins against him. Could she even hope that saving Tamriel could truly clear her name? No, but she would give her life for its people all the same. Such was the demand made of every Dragonborn at the eleventh hour. Like Martin Septim, she would give her life and pass into history. There was nothing left for her after that.
But she did not tell the Jarl this. She did not breathe these things to anyone. Instead, she offered him her most honest smile, not the Knight-Sisterâs guarded thinness nor the Dominion officerâs haughty curl, but the full bloom that belonged to a young girl dancing through meadow grass in the Iliac Bay. She gave this to Balgruuf, and then, head high, she made her way to Odahviingâs side.
Mounting his shoulder and settling in the junction of his neck was certainly easier than when sheâd had to take Karnwyr on Vulthuryol. Once settled, she laid a hand on the warm red scales of his neck. âTake me to Skuldafn.â
âZok brit uth!â Underneath her, his chest rumbled what might be a dragonâs purr. Around her, his silvery snow blue wings rose, fluttering and stretching after his confinement. âI warn you, once you've flown the skies of Keizaal, your envy of the dov will only increase. Amativ! Mu bo kotin stinselok!â With that, Odahviing took off from the balcony, his wings catching in the air.
She was flying!
A call of blessing followed her on the wind. âMay Kynareth guard you while you pass through her realm!"
Odahviing roared, his Voice loud and bright in the high summer skies. Leara laughed, and for a time, soaring in the skies, riding the thrill of the dragon in her soul, she forgot that she was flying into the arms of death.
Aela and Rumarin just attempted murder and I got blamed for it
For context: Rumarin (from interesting NPCS in case anyone really doesnât know him) was my follower at the time I decided to go ahead with the Companions quest line on my LDB, Rienn.
Now, Rienn, in her own version of the story, never becomes a werewolf and isnât even present for the whole Silver Hand business. Ingame, however, she didnât have a choice, and so she got turned.Â
My usual method of dealing with the transformation is to just stay in front of the door to the Underforge until I get teleported to Gallowâs Rock. Nobodyâs ever seen me there and nothingâs ever happened. However, I hadnât counted on the AI mod that makes NPCs behave a little bit more like actual people working as well as it did.Â
And so Iâm standing there waiting, and just as my werewolf time is about to run out, guess who walks around the corner?Â
Hrongar.
The Jarlâs brother.
I have never seen this man outside Dragonsreach and now he decides to go for a stroll in the middle of the night?
My screen starts to go dark. The last thing I see is Rumarin summoning his bound swords.
I wake up at Gallowâs Rock. Rumarin isnât next to me, but since he has the tendency to vanish sometimes, Iâm not worried yet. Aela says her usual bit of dialogue, and then I walk up to the fortress and go inside. And I immediately notice that Aela is no longer with me. Thatâs... not normal.
I go back out to check if sheâs still fighting some Silver Hand dude I missed. But instead, she is literally nowhere to be seen. As in, detect life reveals nothing in the area.Â
Okay, I think. As Rienn is standing there, totally confused because both her followers are suddenly gone, Iâm considering my options. I try using the console to teleport Aela to me, but that just results in her being stuck in combat and running into a rock. Reload it is then.
My next idea is to teleport to Aela to find out what happened and where she was stuck before. So I do that and guess where I end up?
In Dragonsreach. In the Jarlâs familyâs rooms, to be precise. And what was it that my poor Rienn walked into there, you may ask...Â
She found Rumarin and Aela trying to murder Balgruufâs poor bro. The man was sitting behind his bed, cowering in fear as these two repeatedly hit him. As Iâm desperately trying to reset their AI so these three essential NPCs will stop beating each other, two guards walk in.
I manage a quiet âOh shitâ and Rienn jumps out of the way as the guards charge at Aela and Rumarin, only for those two agents of chaos to turn around and straight-up slaughter the guards. At this point Iâm beginning to panic because my last hard save was from three levels (and several hours) ago when I was stuck in the Falmer Cave Of Doom that Farkas sent my level 10 ass to, apparently in an attempt to get rid of me. I do not want to go back there.
I hear children screaming. Oh great, so now Balgruufâs kids are awake and aware of the mess. I sprint towards their room in hopes that I can at least reset them before this gets worse. I round the corner and BOOM, lightning to the face! Irileth is there, throwing herself between the kids and Rienn, slinging spells at her even though she has literally done nothing at all here.
I have no idea what to do anymore. Iâm starting to think this is a lost cause when it hits me. My girl Rienn is Imperial. She has the Voice of the Emperor power.Â
So she channels her inner Martin Septim and, in a very pacifist way, yells at everyone involved to calm the fuck down.Â
Irileth, Rumarin and Aela sheathe their weapons. The kids stop screaming. Hrongar crawls out from behind his bed. Everybody ignores the dead guards on the floor.
Rienn grabs Aela with her right hand and Rumarin with the left and proceeds to drag them out of Dragonsreach in record time and got them the hell out of Whiterun.Â
I would like to add that I would like to blame Skjor for the whole thing, since the wolf thing was his idea in the first place.
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