Six: Victory or Sovngarde

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I rode back to Whiterun, wincing at the various aches clawing their way through my body. After this was over, if I lived, I was crawling into bed for a week and staying there. The Nine knew I deserve it. What should have been a day's hard ride took me almost two and it was nightfall when I finally walked into Breezehome. Lydia was eating what seemed to be stew and reading a book that she hid as soon as I walked in. Too tired to remark on her actions, I merely grabbed a bowl of it for myself and after chugging it in a go, dozed off into a shallow slumber.

The wind was a incessant howling around me as I pushed through a never-ending fog. I was filled with anxiety for some reason as I kept a wary hand on my sword. I heard a vicious laugh, then a scream of pain and the mist suddenly cleared as I found myself in the ruins of my childhood home. Only, instead of the broken bodies of my family, I saw a sight that made me fall to my knees. Every friendship I had forged in the years since lay in a pile of corpses. I could make out the faces of Eorlund, Lydia and Akhari before I closed my eyes to the awfulness. The sound of the flapping of wings made me turn around and I found Alduin watching me with a glimmer of amusement in his cold dark eyes. "Behold Dovahkiin. Have I not kept my promise to you? Everything that you ever loved. Now gone forever. Him hinde pah liiv. This is your reward for your persistent hunt. Now look and weep."

A fury greater than death blazed through me and I pulled out Tempest and Stormfall. "YOL TOOR SHUL!" I Shouted and felt a spark of satisfaction flow through me as Alduin growled in pain against the explosive fire that swept across him. I moved without pause, slashing and stabbing with all my might. But to no avail.

"Dovahkiin, you are strong. But I am Alduin, the greatest. I was ancient before you existed. Now die!"

I woke up curled into a shuddering ball. I knew it was a dream, but seeing my deepest fears so clearly infused me with new resolve. I would see this through. For Skyrim. For my friends. And most importantly, for what little remained of my already cracked being.

I spent time carefully polishing my armor, loading my finest dragonsteel arrows in my quiver and grabbed the dragonbone bow I had but rarely used. After checking my swords were clean and sheathed I went downstairs to bid goodbye to Lydia. "Ly. I go in pursuit of Alduin." I took a deep breath. "If I don't make it back, this house and all within is yours. Fair winds, my friend. May the Nine watch over you." I gave her a quick embrace and before she could say something, I left. I couldn't hear any more words of parting. Saying goodbye had always been something I dreaded.

I gave Eorlund a wave as I passed him in the center of Whiterun and without encountering anyone else made it to Dragonsreach. The Jarl was there and after telling him that a truce had been agreed upon, asked him to summon his guards to the balcony. I knew I might need reinforcements. After I had climbed up there, I stood on the edge, letting the cool wind ruffle my hair for a minute. Then I breathed in and Shouted. "OD-AH-VIING!!!"

I waited. A minute passed, then another, before I heard a dull thud approaching. A red speck burning like a coal hot from the Skyforge soon resolved itself into the most resplendent looking dragon I had seen. He flew to a halt and his stare bored into my own. "HERE I AM DOVAHKIIN!" he roared with the power of a sudden gale.

He didn't land, but merely circled, dodging our attempts to shoot him, and breathing fire at us as often as he could. He must land, or else we are doomed, I thought to myself before I remembered. This better work.

"Joor Zah Frul!" The Shout appeared as a cerulean shockwave that struck the dragon. He gave a cry of confused anguish as he shook his head in what appeared to be an attempt to free himself of the Shout's knowledge. He landed in the balcony and snapped at me even as I leaped back. He followed me with a snarl. "NOW!!" I cried and a large bar fell, trapping the dragon beneath its weight, even as chains were clamped onto his limbs. His voice was a resonant timbre that had as many intonations as all the possible colours of the autumn leaves.

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