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Skyrim: Plaything	By : GE_The_Beast Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 21445 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is made for fun, profit and entertainment. In no way do I own anything discussed. I do not own Skyrim or The Elder Scrolls fandom in any way, nor do I intend any profit from this story.

Chapter List
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- 43
“I’m sorry, my child. But you need to wake up.” Elayne groaned, hearing those words. “Do you want me to paddle your ass? I said wake up!”
“Fine!” She barely felt like she had gotten any rest. She could still feel her arm radiating pain. Potions and literal swathes of juniper berries and some form of magical ash or dust. She could smell it, like the thick smell of Colovian mint sellers near feast days. “What is that made from?”
“Harkon’s vampire’s left dust behind. That and juniper berries were all we had left to make an alchemical poultice for your wounds. But not even we can perform miracles. Keeper Carcette and Mirabelle Ervine have been trying to get your arm back, but,” Gwynabyth was over her, looking like she had cried more than a few times in the night. “But.” She kept trying to say, not able to finish her sentence.
Elayne took a deep breath. The reverberating pain from her wrist was a sign that neither healer had succeeded. “What about Daedra Hearts?” She asked.
“That’s stupid and we both know it. You make potions from those, where the reagents can keep the powerful reactions down. I’m not shoving raw daedra stuff into an open wound!”
“It’s still open?”
“We bandaged your wrist, but it’s raw. And your main weapon hand.” Gwynabyth couldn’t bring herself to say that it was gone.
“Yeah.” Elayne said, saving her from any more suffering. “It’s not your fault, Gwynnie.”
“Can you please not call me that in front of the Emperor of Cyrodil!” Elayne looked around at her words. She was inside the command tent, she noticed. Bleeding all over the map of the province, probably. The gigantic center table held her wrapped in blankets and bandages. She noticed that the battle formations weren’t even tried anymore. Men in bandages were all around her, General Tullius looking more like a mummy than a man. The Emperor was even hurt, his shoulder wrapped.
“Lady Dragonborn.” Titus Mede spoke up. “Can you fight?” It was the question on everyone’s mind. It was the only question. She wasn’t going to answer by speaking, though. She swung her legs over, ignoring the spike of pain from moving her right arm. The right arm that ended at a stump. Gods, she was going to smell like juniper berries for a year at this rate. Everyone in the room seemed to release a held breath as her heels hit the floor.
“Where is Alduin?”
“He took the Snow Tower.” Titus said. “The Greybeards are here, along with their Master.” He didn’t appear to appreciate Paarthurnax. “So he is looking down upon our battlefield as his forces close in. Valtheim Towers fell a few minutes ago, and Fort Greymoor is aflame. Our flanks are burning, and everyone is pulling back to Whiterun.”
So things were bad. The look on everyone’s faces was clear. “I’ll need a place to fight him. Somewhere we can contest him.”
“The western watchtower has lots of cover. But Whiterun’s walls are all that remains to use right now. The streets are filled with debris. Though Jorrvaskr somehow survived.” Baalgruf spoke up from the side. “Don’t forget, Thane Elayne. We owe you. Anyone with a weapon capable of hurting him is coming with you.”
“And every battlemage we have left.” Tulius growled. “But I’m low on good officers.”
“Then deputize Stone-Fist.” Baalgruf demanded. “That’ll give you plenty.”
Tulius glowered. “My men won’t trust him.”
“It’s the end of the war, General. If they can’t trust them now, when will they?”
“Get me to the western watchtower.” Elayne spoke up. “That’s where I killed my first dragon. He will know that I did that.”
It was an odd train of people that went with her. Every single battlemage and magic user that could go marched side by side with hagravens and college mages. Serana was right at her side, the Vampire looking resolute, though taking a moment to give Elayne a fanged smile. The Companions were also coming along, next to Baalgruf. The Dark Brotherhood were coming along too, wearing looted armor from Shashev’s people. Esbern, Delphine and Brynjolf came too. Elayne gave the thief a look as he fell into step.
“What are you looking at my face like that for, lass?”
“Just wondering what convinced you to actually fight.”
“The daedra I serve would approve of me stealing from the Aedra. Even if it was simply time that someone else could use.” Brynjolf said, poetically. “I’ve made a living profiting off of others. I’ve never heard of anyone pickpocketing a dragon. Wanted to be the first.”
It was just so outlandish that she couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. It was just so weird that she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re insane, Brynjolf.”
“A man isn’t a man without something to live for, Lass. Right now that’s stealing from a god. If I survive, my kids will know I pulled it off.”
“Glad to know you’re counting on me winning.”
“We all are.” Titus Mede spoke up from her other side. “I’ve never prayed harder to Stendarr in my life than when I saw you go through that Oblivion gate. And you came back with a Dwemer artifact.” He shook his head. “Tonal magic is terrifying when you see it used.”
“Did you hear our conversation?”
“Over the roar of battle, we could only see you and their leader facing off. Your words were lost to the wind, as you became the utter focal point of the battle. I think every person in the Hold saw that fight.” Titus gave her a smile. “That was worthy of a master, in my book. Fighting someone like that with your handicap was like watching something titanic occur. Whoever that daedra was, he must have been strong.”
“He was a Dunmer named Helseth.” Titus frowned at that.
“The last Hlaalu King?”
“I couldn’t trust a word he spoke. No matter what he claimed, he still invaded. Tried to take advantage of us at our weakest.” The Emperor wasn’t pleased. “He injured you when we needed you most. I had his bones burned down to ashes. No chances with something like that coming back to haunt us.”
“Preventing another Mannimarco?”
“The Mer opened an Oblivion Gate. Imagine the Thalmor getting ahold of his mind! No, Once this battle is over I will spread his ashes across Mournhold’s countryside and have the best priests of Arkay guarantee his spirit’s safe travels to an afterlife. I will not consider this a paltry soul.”
“What about that soul gem he was carrying?” The Black Star.
“Priestess Aranea saw it, and demanded it. What she has done with it, I do not know. It belongs to her deity, and I have no quarrel with her. She is the High Queen’s aunt, after all.” Titus shrugged. “Do you have quarrel with her?”
“His soul might still be inside the artifact. We will need to make sure he is dead.” Titus’ gaze narrowed. “If anyone could have planned for his own defeat by soul trapping himself, it would have been him.”
“I see.” He peeled off, to get that message out. But soon after he was replaced by someone she was much more eager to see.
“Kodlak!” She grinned. “You seem happy!”
“The curse upon us has been lifted.” His eyes seemed different, though she couldn’t put a finger on it. “And I was finally able to see Hestla once more.” Hestla Greymane was one of the people that had been turned by the Volkihar. An ex-Companion.
“Is she with her ancestors now?”
“Not yet.” He smiled. “She surrendered. We will be going to Castle Volkihar and removing all that remain there with her aid. Once this battle is over, we shall do that. But this is a breath of fresh air that we did not realize we needed. Many words have been shared, and my heart is at ease. We will fight the World Eater with you, and there are no regrets. The stain upon our honor is lifted.”
“So I can’t expect a bunch of angry and powerful wolfish backup?”
“Just the normal Companions of Ysmir.” Kodlak grinned. A full toothed grin, pulling on one of the scabs from the recent battles. But he looked completely overjoyed. “Ysgramor’s Companions sailed to this coast and battled the elves and all other evils that this land could throw at us. A practical army, back then. Right now I feel like Ysgramor himself is walking with us. Like all of Skyrim’s dead are watching us, for good or ill.”
“I wish that meant they weren’t so combative.” Baalgruf grumbled. “My ancestors might be out there.”
“All of those Draugr aren’t free spirits like you believe.” Savos Aren started by saying. “They are as much slaves of the dragons as they would be a necromancer. And their masters were the founders of the Dragon Cult. Each one was specially embalmed and buried to rise again later to fight for the Dragons in this battle. All over Skyrim, they have been rising. Solstheim too, I would imagine.”
“The practice is Atmoran.” Kodlak corrected. “We Nords only carry some of that still in our blood. But yes, thousands upon thousands of Draugr walk the earth at this moment. And the only way to win is to stop what drives them. You mages are not the type to become heroes, yes?”
“I beg your pardon!” Savos looked affronted. “After Mirabelle stitched together your man Vilkas where no other healer might keep that eye? I would dare say she is as much a hero as anyone else here. The poor woman’s tongue is stained purple from all of the potions she is drinking to keep everyone alive! Mages can’t be heroes! Bah!” The Dunmer scoffed. “You walk next to one!”
Kodlak gave Elayne a welcome smile. “This one? Oh no, not after last night’s duel. She’s earned the title of Ysmir now. She beat that invader with a blade, not a spell. While she can use magic, it was her sword arm that won the day!”
“The bards are most likely singing praises for your arm, seeing as it was the last time you used it.” Baalgruf chuckled. “But don’t worry, Lady Dragonborn. It might not be Ysgramor’s Companions or ten Imperial Legions at your back. But the souls with you are the best there is.”
Wasn’t that the truth. Elayne just shut out the noises of the concerned men and women and enjoyed the rest of her ride. Their horses and wagons arrived at the Western Watchtower to find it surrounded by eager Forsworn. People were stacking stones to form cover in the ruins of the old fort. But as one, they all glanced south, towards the mountain. Somewhere to the south, thick fires burned. She already knew it was probably riverwood.
The strangest thing greeted her at the sight of the tower. Or at least something that would have her very shocked. It looked like every bard in Skyrim and then some were standing with mighty drums around a circle. At the center of the circle were the Greybeards, who seemed to be eagerly participating. “What in Oblivion is this?”
“She’s here!” A voice she had not been expecting to hear came. “The Dragonborn has arrived! Now, you all know your rhythms! I taught all of you how to play those instruments, and now you will perform with alacrity and the grace of the Gods!” Giraud Germane was standing over the group with a lectern, but how he brought one here she could not have guessed.
“Dean Giraud!” She called. “What are you doing here?” The Breton was wearing the armor of one of the knightly orders of Wayrest. “Or should I be calling you Sir Giraud?”
“Oh, these rags?” He motioned to the brilliant set of mail. “An ornamentary gift for my membership in a knightly order. Strange, I never thought I would be in need of them. Ah, well, the world will always surprise you. I gave some poetry to the kingdom of Daggerfall, and they offered me this.” He grinned, as if taking the time to reminisce. But when Titus Mede cleared his throat, he came back to himself. “Ah yes. As I was saying, we spoke with the Greybeards. They are understandably angry at being removed from their home, and we are working under their guidance to lure out the great dragon.”
“Lure out Alduin?” She coughed gently. “Uh, how?”
“Yes, how would you be able to convince him to come to the battlefield? The Dragons are egotistical creatures, and your mentor over there,” He waved towards Paarthurnax, who seemed to be enjoying being fawned over more than he should. “He stated that Alduin is easily offended. Angered if certain things are brought up. And your Greybeards so dearly want to help you! They just don’t want to lift a sword to do it.”
“Are the Greybeards participating?”
“They are the choir! We’ve been told that they want drumbeats for whatever they are going to sing. I can’t even hold my patience, a song that I don’t know!”
“You claim to know every song in skyrim?”
“I wrote the book, I’ll have you know!” He cackled. “But after this I might have to revise it.” The Breton looked proudly at his assembled Bards. “And I’ve assembled every scribe in the province to hear what they are going to say. We’ve been following the battles and the fighting all the way through. And now the best way to draw out the World-Eater is with a battle of tongues? Hah! Finally! The Bards of Skyrim shall rattle the sky, and shatter all the windows of Kynareth’s Rest!”
The Greybeards seemed oddly eager, in her view. Arngeir stepped forwards, his robes a bit muddied at the hem. “Lady Dragonborn.” He spoke. “You are about to experience one of our most joyous pastimes.”
“You sing?” She asked, trying to be serious.
“Only when the storms are raging and our song cannot harm others. So when the winds are loudest, we practice our songs. The Tongues are too powerful otherwise. But now it seems Kyne would be happy, that we help you with this. And there is a song that we would sing. One that has been passed down in Dovahzuhl but not in common tongue.”
“I will learn that blasted scrap heap of a language for the sake of a single song.” Giraud warned. “By Oblivion I would.”
“Do not make promises your tongue cannot keep.” Arngeir joked, much to Giraud’s enjoyment. “Now, prepare your Companions, Ysmir.”
“Ysmir and her Fifty Companions are ready!” Baalgruf bellowed, as her accompanied men and women gave a cheer. “Start your blasted song! Sons and daughters are dying as we exchange pleasantries!”
Arngeir nodded. “Hold your ears. This may injure you. And though we sing in anger, it is not directed at any of you.” The Greybeards all stood together, in a slight ‘V’ as they faced the mountain. Arngeir stood at one side, as Einharth was at the other. But they gave the signal, and more than fifty great drums began banging. Everyone from fort Greymoor to Valtheim would be hearing this. Elayne didn’t bother holding her ears, but Savos immediately did. Poor mage wasn’t used to noise. But the beat was slow and steady. The notes rang out clearly as every bard struck as one. All of them stared at Giraud as he directed them, as if their very lives depended upon it.
The Greybeards began their song in the tongue of the dragons, but she understood it as clearly as the day itself. She closed her eyes, losing herself as the words passed through her ears and translated themselves in her mind.
“Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by her honor is sworn, To keep evil forever at bay!
And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph's shout, Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!
Hearken now, sons of snow, to an age, long ago, and the tale, boldly told, of the one!
Who was kin to both wyrm, and the races of man, with a power to rival the sun!
And the Voice, she did wield, on that glorious field, when great Tamriel shuddered with war!
Mighty Thu'um, like a blade, cut through enemies all, as the Dragonborn issued her roar!
And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold, that when brothers wage war come unfurled!
Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound, with a hunger to swallow the world!
But a day, shall arise, when the dark dragon's lies, will be silenced forever and then!
Fair Skyrim will be free from foul Alduin's maw, Dragonborn be the savior of men!”
There was a calm, as the bards stopped beating their dreams and the Greybeards fell silent. Baalgruf was rubbing his face, blinking at the noise. Serana was looking rattled, the vampire’s hearing better than most here. Elayne wasn’t bothered in the slightest. She was used to the gale force speech of the Dragons. There was a roar above the clouds, as the answering cry came. But Alduin did not make an appearance. For fifteen minutes they all stood there. “I was certain that would work!” Germain growled. “That egotistical lizard should have been offended! Is there a second verse?” Elayne tried not to scoff too loudly. If one verse didn’t anger the half-aedra a second wasn’t going to do any better.
Arngeir shook his head. “The truths we shouted are most likely known to Alduin already. Even presented in his own language it is unlikely that he took such bait.”
“I won’t accept our victory being contingent upon Bards!” Baalgruf growled. “This is Skyrim! The wind and the snow carry the echoes of our ancestor’s cries upon them! Kyne herself knows our pain! I won’t be spurned for that belief! Lend me your voices, damn you all!” The High King of Skyrim roared. “The Greybeards are not the only ones who can scream and shout! With me, mortal men and mer! Shout down this craven worm!” The Nord stood on top of one of the short walls that had been assembled. “Alduin!” He bellowed. “Alduin!”
This time it was with Irileth’s deeper voice. The third time it caught like wildfire, as the crowd joined the chant. With every iteration, more and more voices joined. Though the bards certainly got into it, beating the drums to align everyone’s chanting. Thousands of voices joined, and the volume grew louder and louder.
This time there was a response. A shout that she couldn’t understand rolled across the clouds, turning them thick and black. The sun itself was blocked out, and the sky allowed no light through. Yet still Baalgruf shouted his chant. Twenty thousand voices screamed Alduin at the top of their lungs. The Greybeards looked at her, grinning as they too joined the noise. Even Paarthurnax raised his grizzled head, adding to the din. Elayne realized with a start that she had said nothing during any of this. She was the hero, wasn’t she? Well? A Khajit had to have her tongue, because when she tried to shout anything about Alduin her tongue seemed to stop. He clearly could hear them, but he either didn’t care or didn’t feel threatened.
Candlelight spells appeared throughout the valley, like little lights of hope. Everywhere one of those glowed, people were standing for the future. For what they believed in. Some flickered and died even as they were cast, their owners probably in a battle for their lives.
Something left over from the Elder Scroll drifted into her mind. Her lungs filled, and she shouted something new. “Miraak Wahlaan Vahzen!” Miraak was right. It meant more than that. It meant that Miraak was right to break away from Alduin. To kill his favorite. The man who started the war. Not the Dragon who taught men how to shout, but the man who first broke the chains. Her cry carried over the top of all of the noise, even as the Greybeards seemed shocked. This connected her to his ‘crimes’ in the eyes of Alduin. It bound her actions to those of the First Dragonborn.
This response was clearly different. The clouds around the mountain scattered as if a child had blown away sea foam. There, coming down the mountain was the dragon. Larger than any other and glowing with power, Alduin was majestic. If only it wasn’t to come and kill her. Behind him upon the mountain, the snow steamed and the clouds dispersed. The raw heat coming off of him was enough to melt the snow in his passing. “Here he comes!” Baalgruf tried to say, his voice hoarse. “For Shor and Tsun!” Religious calls went out from all of those around her. But she distinctly heard Baalgruf whispering the name of Talos. Savos whispered the name of Azura, almost tenderly. Gwynabyth and Eola were screaming epithets of daedra, and in the din Elayne glared up at the oncoming dragon. “For Talos.” She whispered. It felt right. She could have whispered something for the Daedra. They had been her constant companions. But they were fickle, and she had never felt as close to them as she did to Talos right now. “But if I die, I don’t know where I belong.” She wouldn’t let herself think about that. Would Boethia accept her soul? Or did it belong to Sovngarde or some other part of Aetherius?
She felt the response from the Aedra. Or rather, their acceptance. The collar around her neck transformed, turning into motes of light. Her neck felt free. The Aedra had made their decision. Just as she had made hers. She didn’t need their cajoling or inspiration now. She was here. There was no running away now. Though attempting to take a longer step reminded her that the Daedra were not so forgiving. The rest of the Queen’s Restraints were still upon her. Damn them to Oblivion, she couldn’t fight like that. Not against a man, and definitely not against Alduin. “But they don’t want the world to end either!”
Alduin nor the Daedra cared. And the giant godling was coming right for her. His eyes were centered on her solely. He knew exactly where she was. And with a single minded ambition his wingbeats pushed him closer and closer. The snow behind him was turning to steam in his wake, and her earrings rattled unceasingly. He was a creature beyond that of the Daedra. The enchantments upon the earrings always caused them to ring when something was of Oblivion.
“Spells!” Savos yelled. “Frost spells! We can’t let that hit us!” The cry went out, and hundreds of frost spells flew from ready and able hands. Savos and other master mages didn’t bother casting. Their powers would be needed later. But an entire army of Forsworn screamed their rage, and their frost struck the thermal wash of power behind Alduin. The Dragon himself dove for her, but a harsh shout from Paarthurnax made his claws miss her by inches. The dragon wasn’t playing around. He was aiming for her and no one else.
He couldn’t know that she was the only one who could stop him! He couldn’t know what she learned from the elder scroll! The half-daedra had to just know it was her! Her heart was beating at a mile a minute, as she blinked and shook her head. “We need to hit him with something!”
“We need him on the ground!” Baalgruf yelled. “Get ropes and chains!”
“There isn’t a chain made in Mundus that can hold him.” Elayne said. “But we need him to fall. I can’t dodge him with just my enchanted shoes.” He was just too fast in the air for her to risk that. “We need to bring him down!”
Paarthurnax’s wings looked even more ragged and shredded than they ever had in the past. He wasn’t taking to the skies. But as they argued, Alduin was doing his own work. He did not attack alone. Other dragons were plunging from the clouds, which were turning dark. The sun was blocked out, and the candlelight spells and bonfires were now the only sources of light in the battle.
But the mortals were not intimidated. This had been their nightmare yesterday, with the coming of Harkon. Taking away the light to see was going to just make them uncomfortable. Of course, there were some that resisted this. Just as the sky began to glow an even darker red, flaming balls of Aetherius began falling. Each exploded violently, and always hit a mortal. One of them went to strike Arngeir and the Greybeards, but Paarthurnax threw himself into the way. Wings were held above the Greybeards like he was a bird defending its nest, and the ball of fire detonated violently, making the great dragon scream in pain. But under his wings the Greybeards looked around at the battle in horror. They had never seen anything like this. This was never something they envisioned themselves seeing. She could see fear in their eyes.
“Lok! Vaah! Kor!” She bellowed, voice challenging the flaming chunks of Aetherius. Above it, the clouds broke. Around her first, the light of day returned. And the flaming pieces of ruin stopped falling. From behind cover and stones her companions emerged. “He’s coming back!” Alduin was sweeping in low, his claws stretching out for her. He was so fast!
Kodlak grabbed her, rolling with her as the stone wall she was using for cover shattered into a thousand pieces and peppered some of the Forsworn with the shrapnel. “Does anyone have anything that can bring him down!” The old man growled.
“I’m used to fighting things that stay still in comparison to this!” One of the Imperial Battlemages yelled. “I can’t hit them with anything more than a couple of lightning bolts!”
“He’s probably immune to most of the elemental damage our spells can deal?” Elayne mused. “He’s half-aedra, after all.”
“Then we don’t use our spells on him.” A new voice declared. It was Festus. The Dark Brotherhood’s resident fire magic specialist. “He still needs to use the air to fly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Through my decades of murderous experience, I’ve seen what happens when you try to kill creatures that resist flames. The magic we use pulls at the raw materials of Tamriel. Like when you enter caverns where the air is thin, your sparks and magic will be less powerful. And if there is no air left at all, the magic of fire or frost barely reacts.” Festus spoke clearly, his eyes upon the sky. “In those moments, creatures cannot breathe. Not only that, but if there isn’t enough air wings do not work. Flying fails utterly.”
“But to remove that much air, it would take more magic than this entire army is capable of creating!” Savos retorted. “Nor is there any way for us to detonate the fire spells ahead of the creature without something to impact.”
“Wrong!” Festus cackled. “Fire magic has a maximum range before it loses its cohesion and releases all of the stored energy. So all we have to do is line up a few hundred mages that can cast fireballs and destroy the air as he tries to gain altitude.”
“Lining up like that would let him kill needed mages in the very line his breath would travel in!” Savos countered. “Nor do we have enough sources to pull that off!”
“That’s not true. We have hundreds of war staves for fireballs. You Nords hate them, after all.” Eola said. “We have the spellcasters, and the knowledge. That is, if you think Festus has the right of it.”
Savos stared. “Faralda, what do you think?” He asked, numbly.
The Altmer gave him a long look. “It could only work if we knew what Alduin’s flight path was going to be. We would have to be lined up along it already. We can’t miss.”
“I can do that.” Elayne said. “If I stand where he can hit both I and Paarthurnax, he’ll take it.” He was only attacking her. Time wasn’t on their side. “Line up the mages, I’ll give him something. But I’ll need some kind of master level magic to spite him.”
Savos opened his bag, drawing out an ancient scroll with an ebony case. “Don’t mention this came from me.” He whispered. In Daedric Script upon the case there was a description.
“Almalexia’s Wrath?” That was one of the dead Tribunal gods.
“A spell she made herself. If any scroll would work on Alduin, it would be hers.” Savos said, nodding. “But I don’t want the New Temple thinking I have relics of the old Tribunal. This is something my family passed down from one to another. A gift from when we used to live in Mournhold.” Elayne nodded, looking down at the case. “I have no idea what it will do.” Savos warned. “But she touched the heart of Lorkhan.”
Elayne couldn’t take the time to nerd out over even touching this object. Though she really might take her time returning it when this was all over. Not an if, she had to remind herself. Never an if. She tapped her heels together three times, as she saw the large black pair of wings starting their approach. “Line up the mages!”
She made a lot of bunny hops to get high into the sky, trying to get altitude. That didn’t stress the chain that was between her thighs. But she climbed into the air, getting more and more used to the feeling of walking upon nothing. This was a levitate effect, after all! It seemed to reflect your intentions of walking. Or rather, jumping around more like. And if Alduin came at her, she could just cancel the effect and drop like a stone!
“Here he comes!”
Instead of attacking how he had previously, he tilted. A wave of lightning passed through the troops in front of her, and the mages she had asked by lined up. He struck them cleanly, as if he could see their plans and disrupt them. Beside her, Kodlak groaned. “I feel weary.” He gasped. He twisted, looking at a small scrape upon his shoulder. “When did I..?”
Alduin was the Death Eater. Anything harmed by him was tied to that purpose. She understood that purpose quite well thanks to the elder scroll. “Kodlak! You need a cure disease spell immediately! Anything Alduin touches will die!”
The old man nodded, grabbing a potion. “You are our resident expert.” He coughed, skin draining in color even as he drank the potion. It stopped looking like he was about to die right in front of her. “Gods. One scratch! Companions of Ysmir! If he even touches you once, cure yourself! He kills from a scratch!” Kodlak yelled.
Everyone checked their surroundings for cover. Alduin was far more dangerous than before. And Elayne was still in the sky with nothing of the sort. She looked back up, seeing Alduin circling around to attack from the mountainside again. Looking at him was like looking at something infinitely powerful on the move. The air around him was twisting, the magic surrounding Alduin completely ascendant. The regular laws of Mundus were being overturned just by his presence alone. Spells were being turned away, or reflected to other places. As she was watching, a lightning bolt seemed to bounce off of the horns of his head, passing beyond him. The air behind the dragon rippled, and for a moment Elayne thought she saw a building in the air behind it. A glowing building that was beautiful to look upon, with some kind of bridge in front of it.
Sovngarde! She could see Sovngarde every time someone hit him with magic! Alduin slowed down in his approach, before turning to release a breath of fire towards her. She didn’t have time to drop to the ground, and with a glance she saw Gwynabyth and Eola right behind the area she would drop to. If she dropped, Alduin would just shower some of her companions with flame. Glaring at the fire, she activated her racial power and braced herself. There was a single instance of discomfort, and then the ring she had taken from Shashev glowed. It was as if every part of the magical fire was prevented, and went swirling back towards Alduin.
He roared, as his own flames struck and burned his skin. Almost as if responding to thoughts, she could command it. And command it she did, striking the thin skin of his wings. “You can hurt yourself!” She whispered, as the fire cut out and Alduin passed her. She remained in the air, as the black dragon wheeled around hard. This time his claws were ready. His tail lashed the ground as she screamed out ‘Feim!’ right before he struck her. There was a pull, for a long moment as the black claws grasped her ethereal form. For that moment, it felt like those claws were actually digging into her. But something within her resisted. Something in her very soul decided that it wasn’t going to listen to whatever was screaming at her body to die.
And then the moment was over, and she was unharmed, while Alduin was flying off without causing her injury. “Ven Mul Riik!” The ancient called, staring at her. A thick mist appeared from the ground, filling the entire battlefield until everything below her feet was such thick mist that none could see through it. Then, almost languidly the ancient came to hover within range of her, his wings flapping to keep him stable. “Where is Miraak?” He had cut off any support that the rest of the armies of man could offer. With a single shout none of them could help her.
“It doesn’t matter.” She responded, with more confidence than she felt. “What he began, I shall fulfill the true intention of Akatosh!”
“Do not speak such filth! Your position as mortals is naturally beneath my own. To rise above that is unforgivable!”
“Perhaps when Atmorans were first touching the Snow Tower, yes! But no more!” Elayne insisted loudly. “The dreams of mortals rise far beyond those that you would peddle upon them! For it is your insensitivities that led to your fall from grace! You stopped learning the truths of the world as soon as you enjoyed the pleasures of tyranny!”
A chorus of voices broke the fog, the Greybeards angrily clearing the fogbank with their combined shouting. But they weren’t the only things clearing the fog. Hundreds of angry mages were using Telekinesis spells, as shields flew into the air. Symbols of every hold and creed flew, and upon each one was a frost rune. And standing upon the top of the watchtower were three individuals. Savos, Faralda and Festus were all chanting similar words, as Baalgruf pointed with his sword. “Now! Do it now!”
The shields surged forwards, surprising the ancient demigod. Every single one exploded upon contact with his wings or body. Even with his resistance to the elements of magic, the frost crept up and forwards. Alduin made a coughing noise in surprise as he began to fall from the heavens. It was then that the three mages on top of the tower cast their magicks. It was the kind of spell you only saw once in a great while. Master level destruction spells churned forwards, lightning coming from both Faralda and Savos Aren. But unlike a normal lightning bolt, these looked like rivers of lightning in the sky. So bright that it left stars in her eyes and afterimages even when she blinked.
That was eclipsed by the pillar of fire that poured from Festus. Alduin screamed, as the torrent of magic struck him. The ground around him ignited, the stones themselves smoking as the spells washed over the area. The fire cut out last, the lightning ending first. It revealed a dragon covered in wounds. Alduin glared up at her, and she grinned. “How is that for the sting of mortality?”
“Tiid.” Alduin barked, as his skin filled in. His wounds seemed to heal almost instantly, and her earrings rattled as something was happening behind the planar boundaries. Everything was healed, but the frost upon his wings remained. He was just moving his wounds through time! What complete and utter bullshit!
“Spells cannot be enough! Companions! For Ysmir!” Kodlak screamed, his voice carrying. “For Shor!” A veritable surge of steel moved upon the godling, and Alduin moved his head forward to meet them. One of the Companions took the bite, his shield taking the strike. But it instantly rusted away to nothing, and the man behind it turned pale and dropped to the ground. The Dunmer was an emaciated husk before he touched the ground. Baalgruf sank his axe into the skin of Alduin’s neck. The wound actually remained! The few artifacts that were able to get through were leaving small wounds but it wasn’t enough. Eola seemed to be taking her anger out upon his knees. Kodlak was like a dancer, ducking and weaving underneath the neck of the beast and trying to slash at its eyes. But even as he did so two more soldiers died, gasping from just glancing blows. One of them simply turned to ash.
Elayne was moving now, the Daedric Crescent in her hands swinging back and forth. Serana stepped forward. She fought like a woman possessed, her strikes shattering scales and leaving gaping wounds. She was in just as much pain, Dawnbreaker hurting her just as it was Alduin. When Elayne finally reached him, the dragon had bitten Serana. She was picked up in his teeth, and shaken like a sack of wheat. Elayne felt her stomach drop as the vampiress was tossed aside. “Serana!”
“Bones of Earth and Sky, heed my call! Ehlnofey, rise to the final turning of the sun!” Alduin screamed, the draconic language perfectly understood by her. And whatever he intended, the earth beneath their feet shook.
“Aren’t they all gone?!” Savos yelled. He drew the staff of Magnus, and turned it upon the dragon as well. But while the soldiers around her fought against whatever spirits and god like creatures Alduin had called to him, she was focused on something different. As the staff of Magnus’ powers touched Alduin, the world around him twisted. It began to look like a mirror behind him, or a window. And through that window was a completely different world entirely. It was literally a window into Sovngarde. But this time she could see what was through it. It was a perfect reflection of Alduin.
“He’s just shifting any injuries he has to the body he has in Sovngarde!” She spoke up, rolling out of the way of a blast of fire. “We need something more!”
“Slen! Tiid! Vo!” Alduin was done playing around. He thrashed while moving as fast as time itself. Elayne had the wind knocked out of her as a massive claw came down upon her midsection, pressing her into the ground. She tried to brace with the Daedric crescent, but she could hear the metal bending and groaning under his weight. The rest of him flashed out movement, sending every single other creature flying or shattering them. Armor and weapons that weren’t artifacts just seemed to rust away to nothing and their owners were lucky to survive just brushing the dragon’s claws.
She had to give it to the Nords. This would have made a Breton army route, just seeing this. They only shouted and screamed louder, as if a fury had taken over their minds. Elayne coughed, looking up at the scales filling her vision. Deep cuts were in her bare shoulders from just a brush with his claws! This is what she got for going into battle wearing leather and bones. An artifact might have helped more! That was it! An artifact!
Twisting, she let more of the dragon’s weight settle onto the double blade. Then she pressed with both of her heeled shoes into the scales. “Rally to me!” Someone was close, and Elayne looked up to see Vilkas and Farkas rolling underneath a swipe of the other claw to arrive next to the one pinning her. “Don’t worry, shield sister!” One of them winked. And then bother brothers spun, using their weapons against the softer joints in Alduin’s leg. “He won’t move!”
“We need a team of horses to lift this!”
“Eight teams of horses, and a giant!” Vilkas chided. The handle on the Daedric Crescent started to crack, and Elayne gave a scream. It was one of those girly shrieks that no one admits to being able to pull off. But she did. The battle was quieter for a moment as everyone looked for the source of the sound, and Alduin pressed all the harder against her legs and arms. Her heels were drawing blood, which was spilling onto her.
“Sister!” Cicero was coming! But try as he might, his twin daggers couldn’t do anything more than scrape the scales. Elayne stumbled, reaching for her belt and throwing her only remaining dagger to him. Mehrunes Razor.
“Take it!” She pleaded.
“Keeper! Catch!” Cicero pulled something from the air as though it were a toy. But in reality it was a glowing dagger thrown by Astrid. It, too glowed with the unholy power of the Daedra. “Fulfill the Contract!”
Cicero grinned, doing a short backflip over a whipping tail. “She is with me! I can feel you, Mother! I feel you with me!” He cleared the tail with more skill than any mortal man should have. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a reflection of Cicero in Sovngarde, but it appeared to be a Dunmer woman. Albeit one with grey cracked skin and glowing red eyes. She should be frightened by it, but instead there was a comfort. A sense of rightness that connected with part of her soul.
“She’s with you! She’s fighting with you in Sovngarde!”
Knowing this only made Cicero stare down Alduin all the more. And Alduin put his entire focus upon the Nord jester. Three swipes of claw and tail, and the man had avoided all smoothly. He didn’t even attack, he simply dodged. The jester’s eyes never left Alduin’s. He was measuring his foe, even as the rest of the Dark Brotherhood cheered him on. “Sithis.” Alduin spat. “Void-born!”
“I know what you are, but what am I?” The jester mocked back at the dragon, cackling madly. He rolled over another strike, one of the bells on his hat going flying.
“How are you doing this!” She noticed a blur next to her, as the air seemed to be displaced. Someone was invisible or under a Chameleon spell, and they were right next to her.
It was Babette, and she was struggling to get Elayne free! “I fed him the blood of the quorra, an ancient vampire clan. It won’t last long. Let’s get you free!” A plethora of potions came out of Babette’s hands, and she poured at least eight of them into Elayne’s mouth. The rush that fueled her for a moment was great. Her legs straightened, and for that one moment her thighs were strong enough to kick off Alduin’s foot. The giant black claws scraped at her legs, but she rolled out from under the creature. “You’re gonna feel that one for a while. I had to mix some House Dagoth stuff for that.” Babette grabbed her, helping her away.
“Elayne!” Eola yelled.
Behind her, the jaws of Alduin yawned wider than she was tall. They were coming for her, and already she knew they would snap around her. The teeth didn’t penetrate, as someone intercepted the bite. “R-run Sister.” Cicero gasped, from behind her. Alduin pulled his head back, taking the jester with him.
In Sovngarde, the Night Mother looked furious. “You are not done yet, Keeper! Sithis demands more of you! More! Your soul will have no solace if you cannot complete your task! I name you silencer! The last Silencer of the Dark Brotherhood!” Her voice was like nails upon glass. But it was the voice of death. And Cicero heard the voice of their demented mother for the very first time. “Together now!”
“I will not be denied! Anything for you, mother!” On one side of the planar divide, the Night Mother plunged her hands into the eye of Alduin. Cicero screamed, even as his body turned to ash, as he slammed both daggers into Alduin’s left eye. There was a pulse of energy, as the great beast screamed in absolute agony. And two blackened hilts fell to the ground. Mehrune’s Razor and the Blade of Woe had been shattered. Alduin’s eye lied blackened and pitted, and didn’t heal.
Then the beast took off, his wings torn in many places. The force he exerted knocked everyone back. “Ehlnofey! Earth Bones! Heed my call and obey! Flood the plain! Unleash the fury left within you!” Alduin might be wounded, but Elayne was distracted. She and Babette had fallen back to where Astrid and the others sat.
“Thus ends the last contract of the Dark Brotherhood. The Dread Father cannot save even I from the grasp of Alduin. Sithis cannot take your souls, no longer. The Dread Father calls me home. So all shall die and be consumed be his hands. I give my life, that my family may survive. And the Dread Father accepts this, so long as you do not fail. Take victory, or taste eternal torment for failing to uphold this oath!” It was like a whisper on the wind. Eola was screaming at the words, her ears bleeding. But for the Dark Brotherhood, it was as if they were each being hugged. Hugged by a mother with the coldest hands possible. Nazir was shivering, but his tears were warm.
“No! Don’t leave us! We only just found you!” Astrid screamed into the void.
“Let it be said that our final contract was fulfilled. We have blinded a god. Our glory is eternal.” And with that, the feeling left. And the ground was shaking.
“The Night Mother!” Babette said, distraught. “She’s gone! I can’t feel her anymore!”
“Move! The tower is coming down!” Elayne and the others had to move, onto the open plains. Her heart was hammering a mile a minute, and she hurt all over. Deep cuts in her skin bled, even as others cast spells to heal her. There was no time to mourn. Dragons were coming down in waves, breathing fire and ice and the rare shock breath across the area. Paarthurnax was like a hen guarding her chicks, the Greybeards kept protected under his tattered wings. But everyone scattered, leaving many people behind. They were already dead or close to it. Savos and Faralda were keeping up, but they were feeding soul gems into the staff of Magnus like it was a child with sweet bread.
“What now? The beast is not likely to come back to the ground!” Baalgruf shouted, as a much smaller pool of individuals stood around them then at the start of the battle. “We are tiring, Dragonborn.”
She could summon Miraak, but Alduin had already defeated him once. His ego wouldn’t be challenged. “Where is Serana?”
“Her legs are ruined.” Babette insisted. “She will get better but she’s out of the conflict. You’ve got what’s left of the Dark Brotherhood and the Companions.” Baalgruf and Irileth were there too, their artifacts still working. Eola was covered in dust, soot and ash. But her one good eye was still shining. “We’re out in the open against a dragon!”
“He can’t let me live. He will come for me.” Elayne spoke loudly. “I need our best archer.” The black scaled demigod was coming around. He wasn’t intending to give them any kind of a break. “Now!”
“Where is Aela?” Someone called. “She is one of the best!”
“I’ll do it.” Gabriella spoke up. “What do I need to do?”
“No!” A crowd of bats filled the area, followed by Serana. She looked like she was barely standing. “Only a champion of Molag Bal can wield that weapon! Or someone recognized by him!” Her legs were bent at odd angles.
Eola glared. “Give me the bow.” She insisted. “It’s my family legacy.”
Alduin was coming. “But you aren’t an archer!”
“It doesn’t matter! He made a covenant with us! That if I wanted to dominate something that he would answer! Molag Bal is with me! He can’t cross over Oblivion, but he has empowered me! I will not miss!” She clenched her hand, staring with her one good eye. “Let me do it.”
Elayne handed Eola the bow of Auriel. “These arrows are pieces of Coldharbour. Tainted and contain Molag Bal’s essence. Be careful.” Eola took that, while she shuffled her way as fast as the chain between her thighs allowed. The Companions that were left kept pace, while the Dark Brotherhood tried to stick with her. Esbern shuffled next to her, the old man looking exhausted. “Alduin’s Wall never showed the fulmination of the prophecy! The Akaviri mind was never about the results so much as the journey to get there! I wish I could tell you more, or some way to kill him!”
“That doesn’t matter.” Elayne insisted. “Just be ready.”
“Ready for what?!”
“I don’t know.” Elayne answered honestly. “I’ll get him close. That’s the only thing I can do.” She was out of artifacts. Magicka was low, and it wasn’t like she could cast anything master level to affect him. But instead of coming right at her, the creature wheeled around, raining fire down upon the Forsworn. “Eola! New plan, come here!” Elayne hobbled over to Serana, the vampire looking even more pale than usual. “Serana, put your hand on the bow. Eola, hold the shaft. I’ll fire.” Molag Bal wanted favor? Well. Serana was his daughter of Coldharbour. Eola the heir to a line of his champions. And Elayne? She was the gods-damned Dragonborn.
Alduin seemed to sense that this was the end, too. Three dragons lined up behind him, coming in at the tip of his wings. Fire was gathering in their mouths. They would burn them all. “Gods protect us.” Baalgruf whispered.
“Both sides are.” Eola insisted. “This is getting heavier, Elayne!” The bow was vibrating, as if it too expected the power to be used. She personally didn’t care if Aedra or Daedra wanted her to make this shot, but all of them had been touched by the Daedra. Elayne was the only one who had been touched by an Aedra. Her ass still stung from that if she thought too much on it.
“If we miss, it’s over.” Serana spoke up.
Baalgruf took that moment to beat his shield with his sword. “Sovngarde beckons! Though I stand in the shadow of Alduin my heart shall not waver! We stand until the end! Skyrim stands with Lady Elayne!” Epithets of Aedra and Daedra washed over the area, as every soldier seemed to know that this was the end. Emperor Titus Mede looked exhausted, but he was beating a shield made from ebony and holding a daikatanna made from daedric tinted ebony. The madness seemed to catch him, too.
“Is this how Septim felt?” She heard him scream. “For the Eight and One! Praise Talos!” Well, there went the White-Gold Concordat. The Emperor was a believer.
Alduin leveled out his flight path, coming from Whiterun. Every fire underneath his wings was instantly extinguished, and men and women seemed to slump just in his passing. The string in her hands was both tainted black and gold. If she looked with one eye, she would see the untainted weapon. But the other showed the weapon as it was. “It’s part of Akatosh. Even if it’s tainted.” In this moment, it made perfect sense. The weapon was Aedric. It was tainted by the closest thing to a daedric prince she had. And the piece of coldharbour made an arrow worthy of Molag Bal. And the only reason she was ready for this? All of the daedra had helped in one way or another, especially Hermaeus Mora. Talos wanted her to win.
Most of all, she wanted this. Her, Elayne wanted this. Not as the Dragonborn but as someone who just wanted the world to keep living! “Fenjuntiid!” The word came to her as if the Elder Scroll was still in her head. She wasn’t sure what it meant, until it came from her mouth and energy surrounded the arrow in her hands. It was glowing, and she could see Serana and Eola barely holding it together. But to her it made perfect sense. It was the literal will of Akatosh that this moment occurred. And she could barely handle whatever power this was.
When her hands let go, all light came down to a single point. The arrow blinded her, and it tore from her hands like the scream of a god. Or goddess. She and the others ended up in a pile of limbs, with Eola ending up deep in Serana’s jiggling cleavage. Elayne ended up on top of the pile, and saw the blinding afterimage. The arrow crossed the mile distance between her and Alduin instantly. In its wake the fog and earthshakes were disrupted, and the dark clouds dispersed. Alduin seemed to try to dive to avoid it, but the arrow just curved. And it struck squarely in Alduin’s remaining eye. The dragons behind him were bowled out of the sky by the anuic force, and there was a collective hush as every single draugr fell over. The dead fell, and did not rise again. Serana squirmed, proving that this was just the undead tied to the dragon cult.
Alduin plummeted from the sky, his body hitting the dirt and rolling over men, draugr, and the wood and stone barricades that stood in his path. Such was the force of his impact that he still slid the hundreds of feet between them. His nose came to a breathtaking stop inches from her hands. She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
Kodlak staggered forward, weapon raised. “No, wait!” Elayne yelled. The man stilled, stepping back. “It’s over.”
“He’s still alive!” Baalgruf said, white as a sheet. Irileth was blinking her eyes, clearly still recovering from seeing the arrow. “It’s not over until he dies!”
“Geh.” The dragon rumbled. He weakly tried to stand, but it seemed impossible. His wounds were terrible, and all along his length his scales were cracked. “Tiid Oblaan Dinoksetiid.” Time itself would end when Alduin ended. The Last Dragonborn’s fate was to end Alduin’s life. But the Elder Scroll she read never specified the details. And damn it all, Elayne wasn’t the type to just kill something when in doubt!
“Submit to me, Alduin.” She spoke up, shakily rising to her feet. She hurt all over, and her stump was bleeding. It had started during the fighting, and only now did its hot ache become apparent. “You cannot go between realms any further. I have ended your connection to Aetherius.”
“Kill me, and be done.” Alduin spat in the common tongue. “Take your great victory!”
“That’s not our fate.” She whispered. “That’s not your fate!” She said, louder and stronger. She had won. Alduin lay broken and defeated on the ground in front of her. Yet she had no weapons to finish him. There was no temptation to. Where others saw the death of the world, she saw something more. “You will be the one to end Nirn. To destroy it. But not until you can learn what to do with it after.”
Her pack rumbled, as Captured Dreams tore through the edges. Oh, Hermaeus Mora didn’t like this. Her heel stabbed downwards, impaling the book and pinning it to the ground. It screeched, as if it were really alive. Perhaps it was. But the artifact of Talos burned the pages, the cover and the screaming magic tongues and tentacles that tried to escape. It burned until nothing but ashes and bones were left. “We used that?” Eola mumbled, from Serana’s cleavage.
“Mora wanted me to end your life, Alduin. End it in such a way that either you or I ended Nirn. But I am not that stupid. Submit to me, Alduin! And I shall show you your true purpose! You cannot return to Aetherius now. The only place you can go is the mortal realm, and I have proven that we mortals can and will fight you. That we can win!”
Alduin growled, one claw scraping as it tried to get close to her. Arnbjorn leapt upon it, as a full werewolf. The claw never moved. Kodlak and the Companions leapt upon one wing, and the Dark Brotherhood upon the other. Part of the Western Watchtower was telekinetically moved by Tolfdir and Savos to pin the giant beast’s tail. Chains from a wagon were thrown over his neck, and Baalgruf grabbed one side. Titus Mede grabbed the other. The chain was taken up by the dozens of soldiers that still stood, beaten and bloodied. And with their help, Alduin’s neck was forced to the ground.
“It is wrong to submit! I am king of all!”
“Alduin?” She stumbled, walking past his nose. Her heart hammered, being so close to those teeth. Where Cicero had died. “Akatosh gave you the world to learn what it was to create. So that when his son would take apart the great wheel and cosmos of Nirn, he could rebuild it. Your mother is Kyne, and your father the great connection between all Anuic forces. You are the key to the Aedra being able to replicate Anu’s efforts. You can’t be like Padomay. If you just destroy everything without a purpose behind it, then what good will you have done?”
“What gives you the right to speak of it?” Alduin growled in his tongue. “I could unwrite the Towers and shatter the connection to the wheel!”
“But you won’t.” She sat, leaning her back against his face. He twitched. “If you agree to wait until I die to end the world, and learn from me until that happens I promise I will teach you every mortal art and skill. Until it is the right time to end Nirn. Until you are supposed to help Akatosh become the new Anu. If you end the world right now, you’ll just make Hermaeus Mora into the new Padomay. The only one who will win is the Woodland Man.” With Apocrypha, he was the only Daedric Prince besides perhaps Jyggalag that could dare attempt to take the title of Padomay. “Submit to my authority, and join me in a new way of living. You will learn the way of the Voice, and when I die you may continue doing what you intended.”
Above them, hundreds of dragons swirled in confusion. They probably had never seen their leader thrown down. Or even this injured. “Why spare me?” Alduin yelled. “Why not end your enemy!”
“Because that’s not what we are. You’re an Anuic force. I won’t kill part of what makes this world keep spinning! But you have become drunk on that power, and ignore the very mortals you share this world with! You can only kill us mortals because you share that nature with us! The fact that you are this close to death should tell you about our shared nature. You haven’t been speaking to Akatosh at all since becoming the overlord of the dragons. Your leadership is clearly going to lead to mistakes!” She leaned her head against the cracked scales of his cheek. “What convinced you to stop talking to your own father?”
“Deyra. Kah.” Daedra. And his own pride.
“Hermaeus Mora has been trying to play you from the beginning.” Elayne closed her eyes. “Shashev and I were just pawns in his plan to become Padomay.”
“Geh.”
“Can you trust me, Alduin?”
The beast tried to lift his head, but the arms of mortals prevented him. “Why should I?”
“Because I shot you with the only weapon tied to Anu. A force that had the power to destroy you. And by gods old and new I can’t have you destroying this world and handing the creation afterwards into the hands of a daedric prince! One of the Aedra told me himself that daedra will lie and cheat to accomplish what they want! It is up to mortals, dovah, ehlnofey and everything else in this world to prove them wrong!” She grabbed one of his small facial horns in her one good hand and shook it. “And by those gods I have proven that to you!”
Above, the dragons swirls as the clouds cleared. They were close, and had stopped attacking. “Dovahkiin. Jud Thuri.” The dragon coughed, as all of the dragons in the sky echoed the call. Jud Thuri. Queen and Overlord. Her heart raced, as this was spoken. She had done it! She had done it! “Until you die, I shall follow you.”
“I accept.” She said, taking a shuddering breath. “We will learn the path of Akatosh and Anu together.”
“Together.” Alduin admitted, weakly. “I submit.”
She held that horn like it was a lifesaver. The Elder scroll finally made sense. Her job was never to kill or defeat Alduin. It was to save him from the oldest machinations of Hermaeus Mora. “It’s over.” She whispered. “Finally.”
“Not yet.” Eola interrupted. “That dunmer bastard? He was carrying enough gold to pay for an entire province.” The redhead wiggled her eyebrows. “I can think of a few things that we can change for the better.”
Whiterun was leveled. It’s walls remained, and it looked like the northern part of the hold was flooding. But the people had evacuated. Baalgruf would rebuild. But like his citizens did in the other world, she could be helpful. And barring a few purchases for herself, she didn’t plan on keeping that money. It had been taken from Skyrim in another world. It seemed only fair to spend it rebuilding.
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Skyrim: Plaything