Mortal (Book 3)

Chapter 11

"The soldiers have been called to ready, Jarl Ulfric." The jarl stood from the desk in a dark room, hidden deep within the fortress.
"Thank you, Snow-Hammer." He said, following the woman into the courtyard of Fort Roggstad. As he stepped into the blinding light reflecting off the snow, he brought his arm to shield his eyes. He'd arrived some night not long ago and not left his room since, but how long he couldn't remember. He spent most days in his room, alone with thoughts of her. She'd been gone a very long time; He'd asked the other Jarls to write to him the moment they heard even a rumor of someone seeing her somewhere, anywhere. He waited every day for a letter, and nothing came. The shadows of his face grew deeper and darker with each passing day. He knew that if the soldiers saw him so frail, they'd question if he was even healthy enough to lead a nation in such a dark time. Alduin's voice, thundering from above, hadn't stopped since she'd disappeared. It rang out once or twice every few hours. Many believed this was a sign the Dragonborn had perished.
He stood before the regiment of Stormcloaks, their backs straight and their eyes, though full of fear at the endless thunder above, focused far away. The Snow-Hammer slammed her axe into her shield, and in one precise movement the entire regiment took a knee and bowed to him. Galmar had told him he was supposed to give some sort of speech, give them some sort of hope; what did he have to give?
"I understand, that with the conflict of past weeks, many of you fear for your lives, and the lives of those you love," He began, slowly pacing in front of them. He looked up at the sky. He did that often, perhaps expecting to see her falling from it, descending back to the mortal plane. Nothing. "I share many of the same fears. But during this time of uncertainty, I ask that just as you were in the war, you band together as brothers and sisters, and be ready to answer the call to protect our homeland should the Stormblade fall. I have seen you in battle, I have seen you fighting the Legion and the Thalmor and any enemy that threatens our way of life, but now Alduin not only threatens our way of life but our lives themselves. Stand up Stormcloaks, and fight for that which you love." He said.
Not a soldier stirred or issued their battle cry. He found a face in the back of the lines, an older man with his cheeks tattooed in Nordic runes and a long scar over one eye. This face, although deeply cragged with experience, appeared heartbroken. A tear ran out of his eye and down the scar. The conflicted expression spread to all of the soldiers slowly from this one man, some of the younger soldiers even broke down into the snow and began to sob. He became angry at first, believing that seeing him in such a weakened state made them feel pity for him, until he felt it too. His knees failed him, and he reached behind him for something to steady himself. Galmar, almost in tears himself, brought an old chair for the Jarl.
"Ulfric, is it—"
"She's gone. Alduin has killed her in battle, I know it." The Jarl said, clutching at his heart. Emotion like this he hadn't felt since the death of his own father, many years ago.
"I feel it too, Ulfric... We all do. All of Skyrim must be weeping for her."

~

The gentle warmth of candlelight flickers against my eyelids. I feel a gentle hand against my face. Small, but hard and worn from years of working in the garden. She smells like dry dirt, as always.
"I know you're tired dear, but we're not done yet..." she says, running her fingers through my hair, catching on blood clotted on my curls. Where did you go? I want to ask her. Why did you leave me with him? "It's your job to protect them, you know. It's always been that way for our family. I always knew deep down, but my mother told me when I was 18. It's been the way since Monaveen, my great grandmother. Her mother told her she was a Septim, but that she must keep it secret in order to stay safe and alive... It's been a secret ever since. I knew we were different, that we had power that no one else understood. I was afraid of it, and I lived in fear of myself and did everything I could to keep that part of myself hidden until the day I died. I knew when you were born that you were different from me, different from Monaveen. I knew that you wouldn't hide from your destiny as we did. I knew you were the matriarch that would guide our family back to it's true place." She said, the candle beginning to flicker lower and lower. "Now get up dear, and face what you know to be yours." She said as the end of the wick began to burn out. I sighed, preparing to tell her I'm too far gone now, that I've failed. I open my my eyes just quickly enough to watch the wick burn out completely, and suddenly I can't breathe.
I feel water in my nose, and I cough and sputter as I force myself out of the water. I'm back in Sovngarde. Am I dead? I clutch at the claw wound that was just over my hip only moments ago and find nothing but my own skin and a tear in my armor. I look at my hands and my reflection in the water, squinting to see the golden glow that envelops the permanent residents of Sovngarde. As far as I can tell, it's not there. I glance up at Lydia who stands over me, shining more brilliantly than any other soul. Her skin is radiant with life, her eyes focused intelligently on my own as they always were.
"Thank you." I mumble in the chaos of the battle around us. She only smiles, offering me an arm to help me out of the pond. She pulls me out, handing me Wuuthrad and drawing her own sword.
"Sorry I'm late, my Thane." She says, grinning with revenge in her eyes as she dashes toward the battle.
Just behind her, Gormlaith struggles to hold her own as both Hakon and Felldir lay disposed on the ground. She clutches her injured bicep as she swings her sword, still not missing a single blow. Try as she might, Alduin was quickly gaining the upper hand as he drew closer and closer. Lydia rushed in behind him, digging her sword into the thin skin of his wings as I taught her. I take my opportunity, gently pushing Gormlaith aside as I take her place. Before I can think, Alduin opens his garish maw and wraps me in his flames. Enraged, I swat at him aimlessly until my hand closes over one of his horns.
I swing around him, landing on the crest of scales in the middle of his forehead. He fights violently against what he knows is about to happen, but he cannot evade me any longer. I jump as he tosses his head, coming down hard and fast on his crest with my axe. I worry briefly that Wuuthrad won't pierce his armored scales, but I feel them crack beneath my feet as I land. Black, sticky blood pours out of the crack in his scales. As it spatters over my feet, I learn that it's also boiling hot. I cry out in pain and fall back to the ground, the various burns on my body beginning to overcome me.
Alduin dances in his own death throes above me, his body beginning to disintegrate into the black liquid. His chest heaves then shatters like an egg, the black blood spattering over the grass and anyone standing nearby. I try to shield my face, but I can't protect my back and legs. When I look back up, what's left of his soul is being sucked up into the vortex above us, eventually disappearing from sight.