Journey

I never thought I'd ever see Delphine smile but, to be my amazement, she did when I walked into her secret room back in Riverwood. "Praise Talos, you're alive."

I just took a seat, weary after the long journey on horseback, my thighs and groin crying out for relief. "That was not easy. At least with a dragon I can attack it head on with a sword and shield. Sneaking around isn't my forte."

She nodded. "Of course, I understand. But what did you get? Anything useful?"

I took everything I had gathered from my small pack, spreading them across the table. "I managed to grab a few things." I started pointing as I revealed what I found. "This is a letter that would suggest, if not confirm, the Thalmor are not responsible for the return of the dragons. In fact, the Thalmor, if this one letter is anything to go by, are incredibly nervous about it." I pointed to the first journal. "This book is all about you, Delphine."

I should have known she wouldn't be surprised. "Say anything nice about me?"

"I think I can say the Thalmor at least have respect for your abilities. But it also reeks of desperation to catch you." I grinned. "Three attempts at assassination, all failed. They also have no idea where you are. You could operate with impunity across Skyrim and I don't think they'd have a clue."

"And the other two?"

I pointed at the second one. "This one is about Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. Once I am done here, I'm heading straight to Whiterun to speak to Jarl Bulgruuf."

"Why?"

"Because its contents are disturbing, at least to someone who arrived in Skyrim wanting to support his cause. I may be interpreting the writing incorrectly but the Thalmor refer to him more than once as an 'asset'."

"You think he's a Thalmor plant?"

"I have no idea anymore. That's why I need to speak to the Jarl."

"Of course. And the third one?"

I simply handed it over, allowing her to read its contents and gauging her reaction. It didn't take long until she gave me all the evidence I needed. "He's alive," she whispered.

"Okay, the thing is, I know they're even more desperate to catch him. They were torturing some poor bastard at their embassy and he told me what he overheard. So why is this Esbern so important?"

Delphine took a seat across from me, laying the journal back on the table. "The Thalmor want to execute every single Blade they capture. However, there are one or two of us they would probably keep alive, at least for a little while, until they had the information they wanted. Now Esbern…" She grinned, probably at a memory. "He's a little crazy. But there's no doubting the intelligence. He was one of the Blades archivists, though that was a long time ago, before our order effectively disappeared during the Great War. But, and this is the important thing, Ragnar, he knows everything about the ancient lore regarding the dragons, particularly in regards to the Blades."

"Where are the archives?"

"Gone. The Thalmor sacked every city they passed through during the Great War. Our bastion in Cyrodil, Cloud Ruler Temple, was put to the torch as soon as they invaded the Imperial province. Every Blades member within, executed. The Thalmor were and are still ruthless in their pursuit of our order. I thought I was the only one left, though I always wondered if there were more of us out there, working in secret. Now that Esbern may be alive, we have a chance at defeating the dragons."

"Okay, we've got plenty to go on. What's our next move?"

"Do whatever it is you need to do first then head to Riften. If I know Esbern, he'll be completely paranoid, even more than me, and has likely paid off anyone in the Ratway to keep his location a secret."

"So how do I get in?"

"Approach a man named Brynjolf. He's… well-connected. He may be able to point you in the right direction."

"And when I find Esbern?"

"Just ask him where he was on the 30th of Frostfall. He'll know what it means. I'll wait here and put out some feelers about our next move."

With at least a plan in place of where I would head next in regards to the dragon crisis, I mounted my horse and rode fast back to Whiterun. I didn't even bother stopping at Breezehome as I walked straight to Dragonsreach. The Jarl wasn't on his throne though Irileth was sat at one of the long tables by the fire, turning towards me as I approached.

"Thane Ragnar," she stated, bowing her head.

"Just Ragnar."

"Of course. What brings you to Dragonsreach today?"

"May I have an audience with the Jarl?"

"Of course. He's upstairs. I don't believe he's in his private quarters, likely looking over his map as usual, imagining troop movements."

I didn't know if she was joking about that last part or not but thought nothing of it, simply thanking her before bounding up the stairs, two at a time. The Jarl looked up from his map, just as she'd said, appearing surprised by my appearance.

"Dragonborn."

I stopped and bowed my head. "Jarl Balgruuf. Are you well?"

"Well enough." He paused and looked at me. "What's wrong?"

I didn't think I was that easy to read. I approached him as I grabbed the journal from my bag and handed it to him without a word. He read its contents over twice before he took at a seat at the table, gesturing to the spare chair across from him. He placed the journal on the table, next to the map, and looked at me again. "Now I understand the face."

"I don't really know what to think now."

"What does your heart say?"

"He's not being controlled by the Thalmor and is fighting for a noble cause. A free, independent homeland, who will not be dictated to by anyone. Not the Empire and definitely not the Thalmor. We will worship who we want."

"And you're head?"

"A win for the Empire may end up keeping Skyrim safer. Nords and Imperials have been brothers for eons. How can we suddenly turn our backs on hundreds if not thousands of years together, all because of one treaty? But a victory for the Empire could result in a second war with the Thalmor. Can we afford another war with the Thalmor after a civil war that may turn completely bloody?"

"Why do you think I insist on staying neutral, Ragnar? There will be no winner in this war. It has torn the country apart. Our own city has splintered into factions, supporting one side or the other. There needs to be a negotiated settlement between the two sides, but I don't see that happening now that General Tullius is here. Before his arrival, perhaps the Empire may have negotiated as neither side had a clear advantage. But sending him here was a clear sign of intent by the Empire that they will eventually wage full-scale war."

"Nord should not be fighting Nord. We should be preparing for another war with the Thalmor. That's in addition to dealing with the dragons. That needs handling first. And fast."

"You have my complete agreement, Ragnar. And, at the moment, the war doesn't appear to be getting in the way of that. As for the Thalmor, those elven bastards will get what's coming to them. I know why the Empire signed the treaty. I didn't like it then; I don't like it now. But I understand why. Even Ulfric, deep down, understands it had to be signed. He fought in the Great War. He saw the slaughter of both men and mer by the thousands. But he's simply using that as an excuse to gain power."

"Did he murder the High King?"

I know that question surprised him. The sigh and shrug surprised me. "From what I have heard, he followed our ancient customs by challenging Torygg to a duel. But I'm not sure of the exact details. All I know is that Ulfric has dreamed of being High King for many years. The rebellion is one facet of achieving that dream. The death of Torygg was another."

I sat back in the chair, running a hand over my face. "I just don't know what to think about any of it now."

He actually laughed. "So don't, Ragnar! You have enough to worry about being the Dragonborn and trying to end the dragon problem. Let the politics sort itself out. Wait until all this is over, then decide if you truly want to involve yourself."

"My sword is always ready and available to defend Whiterun, sir."

"And I appreciate that. But we'll worry about the neutrality of my city if or when it becomes a problem. For the moment, we're being left alone. That is all I ask."

I sat quietly for a few moments as I thought about what he'd said. 'The Jarl is absolutely right. Any idea of involving myself in the war now… Forget about it. There are too many unknowns. Neither side is right. Solve the dragon issue. Serve the Companions. You were happy in the guild back on Chorrol. Destiny brought you to Skyrim. Just do whatever makes me happy in the end. Life is short in the end.'

"What are your plans?"

"Regarding the dragons?" He nodded. "I'll be heading to Riften shortly. But first I need to check in with the Companions and resolve an issue there."

"Of course. Have you discussed who will succeed Kodlak as Harbinger?"

I shrugged. "Not yet. And I have no idea, to be honest." 'Despite Kodlak's journal stating otherwise.' "It's something we'll discuss at a later date."

"If you ever need an ear, Ragnar, you know where I am."

"Thank you, my jarl."

We shook hands, my head feeling slightly clearer, and after a quick word downstairs with Irileth about nothing in particular, the dark elf simply showing an interest in what I was up to, surprising as I'd always had the opinion she didn't particularly like me, I walked down the steps towards Jorrvaskr.

Heimskr was in place as usual, his voice carrying across Whiterun as he lambasted the Empire for turning its back on Talos, shouting that only Ulfric Stormcloak would guarantee our freedom of worship. When I'd left Cyrodil a lifetime ago, I'd have agreed with every single word, the fervour of his sermon likely causing me to depart for Windhelm straight away. But after hearing so many conflicting stories about the war, the words now seemed hollow.

But he was also a devout follower of Talos and a citizen of Whiterun, so whatever his personal opinions, he is someone I would protect with my life. It was strange how my thoughts had changed since that first day I arrived. These were my people and, even if I wasn't Dragonborn, I believed the people of Whiterun now considered me one of their own. I knew everyone, considered many of them friends, the Jarl was a good man, so I would do everything to keep them safe. I just hoped the neutrality of the city would continue to be respected.

The four members of the Circle, which included myself, gathered in the Underforge. Resting against the basin in the centre of the cave was the rebuilt weapon, Wuuthrad. I'd read a little about its history and it was stained with the blood of thousands of elves, when humans first arrived from the continent of Atmora and eventually settled across Skyrim.

"Does anyone know when the tomb is?" I asked.

Farkas nodded. "Aye. Far to the north. Likely to be a two-day journey, depending on which route we take."

"We would like to leave tomorrow, Ragnar, just after dawn. You will be coming?" Vilkas asked.

"Wouldn't miss it. For now, I'll head back home and get ready. I'll meet you at the stables tomorrow morning."

I slept well that night, having not slept for at least a couple of days after events at the Thalmor embassy. Yet I had not felt tired and assumed it was another aspect of the beast-blood that flowed through my veins. Thinking about it, I often slept at night without feeling a sense of wanting to sleep. Tired and sore after a day's ride and likely a fight, sure. But I had not felt the overwhelming need for sleep in some time. Part of me wondered if I should experiment and see how long I could stay awake for.

Farkas, Vilkas and Aela were waiting for me at the stables just after dawn the next morning, another beautiful sunrise in my homeland. I'd seen the rising of the sun numerous times since I had arrived, each one more breath-taking than the next. 'I'll have to commission an artist to paint one.' I was surprised when Farkas handed me Wuuthrad.

"We believe the Dragonborn should have the honour of carrying the weapon, Ragnar," he explained.

I nodded my head in thanks and, after some asking the stable-hand for some strapping, managed to secure the weapon to the flank of my horse. Once mounted in the saddle, Farkas took the lead as we headed east towards the meadery. For the first time I could remember, we then turned north at the crossroad, the four of us riding in a line, alone with our thoughts. I knew what Farkas and Vilkas thought of. The blood that flowed through their veins. Kodlak's journal stated they were both now conflicted in their views and I believed that both would also like to be cured eventually. I was sure Aela wouldn't be cured. If her heart still belonged to Skjor, then she would keep the blood and join him in Hircine's realm. As for myself, I was too busy thinking about dragons and what would happen after I found Esbern. Finding the man was one thing and, I hoped, not too difficult. But after that? I could only hope that he would have some answers.

We'd been riding for a couple of hours, our pace slow as there was no real rush to get to the tomb. The landscape slowly changed from the wide open plains of Whiterun Hold to a snow covered landscape, mountains looming over us near and in the distance. The wind picked up, thankfully not too much so our heavy coats were not required, at least for the moment. Eventually conversation between the four of us started, the three showing an interest in what I had been up to.

"I attended a party at the Thalmor embassy," I stated.

"What were you doing there?" Farkas asked, "I thought you hated elves."

I shook my head. "Not all elves. Just the Thalmor. Right bastards, they are," I muttered, "Anyway, I was at the party as… someone who I'm working with in regards to the dragon crisis believed that the Thalmor may have been behind their return."

"Wouldn't surprise me," Vilkas grumbled.

"It was one avenue of investigation, at least. So I attended the party, and thanks to some help from inside, I slipped out and eventually found a couple of interesting things. One, the Thalmor are not behind their return, so that was something. But, two, the Thalmor are kidnapping people across Skyrim and torturing them. I saw the cells. And the blood soaked floors. And the tools used during their 'interrogations'."

"Should have just slaughtered them all," Farkas stated.

"The thought crossed my mind, but what I did would be enough to cause a diplomatic incident as it is. No doubt the Thalmor are hunting me right now."

"We have your back, Ragnar," Aela said. Farkas and Vilkas vehemently agreed.

"I know. And it was a necessary move but I may now have to kill every Thalmor I come across now."

"And that's a bad thing?" Vilkas asked, chucking to himself.

I shrugged and smiled. "Probably not. War is coming anyway. I may have just helped start it earlier." I paused and met all their glances. "I know you're not going to involve yourselves in the civil war, but what if we went to war with the Thalmor?"

"Sign me and my brother up," Farkas stated, Vilkas nodding away in agreement.

"Aela?"

"The Thalmor would be greeted with a hail of arrows, Ragnar."

"And you, Ragnar?" Vilkas asked.

"The Dragonborn would lead great armies and crush the Thalmor. Or, at least, that's what I dream about."

"I think this Dragonborn business has gone to his head," Aela said not so quietly to the two brothers.

We spent the rest of the ride talking and joking between each other, knowing the serious stuff would come at the end. I know it was all in the back of our minds, having laid Kodlak to rest and now having to save his very soul. None of us had any idea what we would find in the tomb. Farkas and Vilkas both had a general idea that it would probably be a series of tests of our worthiness, but other than that, we had no real idea of what we would find.

We passed an inn during the afternoon, maps stating it was the Nightgate Inn. But we were making better time than thought so we continued, agreeing that we'd stop in Winterhold for the evening before continuing our journey the next morning.

The road started to ascend into the mountains, the snow ever deeper to our flanks though I think we were all thankful to be dry but cold. Conversation had died down again as we approached a fort in the distance and it was Farkas, still leading, who suddenly raised a hand and called us to a halt. We formed up alongside him as he stared ahead.

"What is it?" I asked.

He didn't point but gestured slightly with this head. "The fort ahead. There are people on its walls. And I don't think they're friendlies."

"Look like mages," Vilkas stated.

"And skeletons," I added.

"Think we could hit them from here, Aela? Could force the rest of them out," I suggested.

She replied by simply taking the bow she had strapped to the side of her horse and nocked an arrow. I did the same, my bow attached to the other side of my horse. "Which one, Ragnar?"

"I'll take the one on the right."

"On three?"

"Three."

We loosed our arrows together, watching as they hit out intended targets, both disappearing into the fort. We didn't hear any raised voices, considering the distance we were from the fort, but it didn't take long until bodies started to flood from the fort. Idiots. I strapped the bow back to my horse and unsheathed my sword and, digging my heels into the flanks of my horse, three of the four of us charged forward, Aela keeping her distance as she continued to draw on her bow.

The skeletons were easy to handle, falling apart at a single swing of a sword, but the mages were a more difficult proposition as flames and frost spells were hurled towards us. Our horses were hardy but not capable of taking too much punishment, and sometimes frightened easy, so keeping them calm was difficult as we continued to circle the mages. Keeping them distracted allowed Aela to continue raining down arrows, the mages unsure whether to attack us or her. I met the eyes of Farkas and Vilkas and they nodded.

Consequences be damned, we closed in on the mages.

We rode into Winterhold after dark and found the inn straight away. Farkas had an arm wrapped around my shoulder while Aela helped Vilkas stagger in. The innkeeper immediately pointed us to a pair of rooms, where a brother was laid down on a bed each.

"I have to remove your armour," I said quietly. Farkas simply swallowed and nodded.

Trying not to disturb his wounds, I managed to retrieve most of it while keeping his modesty intact. Aela approached me as I finished. "What are we going to do?"

"I know a couple of healing spells."

"You do?"

I nodded. "Lydia showed me. But I'm barely a novice. I'm not sure…"

"Do what you can. I'll see if there's a shop which sells potions."

"How's Vilkas?"

"He'll live. But he's looking no better than his brother." She said that in a tone which, despite his pain, caused Farkas to laugh. "You'll be right soon enough, Companion."

"Aye. Will take more than a small fire to take me down."

'Small fire? The man was sheathed in flames. It took rolling around in snow to put him out.' I grabbed a chair and sat next to the bed. I hovered both hands above Farkas, closed my eyes and then, remembered everything I learned from Lydia, summoned whatever magic I had within me.

Even with my eyes closed, I know my hands began to shine brightly as I remembered the words and summoned the healing power within and transferred it to my friend. I still didn't know how magic actually worked. Lydia had done her best to explain it, and while I understood the basics, I mostly just went along with it. I kept my eyes closed, simply to help my concentration, until I heard Farkas' breathing steady and the smell of cooked flesh slowly start to disappear.

I soon felt drained and stopped the spell, dropping my head and looking away. I didn't want to look, unsure if I'd done enough.

"You've done well, kinsman," Farkas stated, strength returned to his voice.

"I have?"

"Yes. Look."

I opened my eyes and slowly turned my head, my jaw dropping automatically in amazement. There was still some scarring and his skin was still bright red, but the burns had practically disappeared. Farkas lay back, wide-eyes and aware of his surroundings. Then he started to laugh.

"By Oblivion, Farkas, what are you laughing about?"

He turned his head to look at me. "Remind me never to take on a fire mage head on again. Otherwise your ass will be cooked." He paused a moment. "Thank you, Ragnar."

"Not necessary, but appreciated."

"Please, check on my brother."

I had no idea the extent of Vilkas' injuries until I pulled back the furs covering him, hearing his teeth chatter before he cried out in pain.

"By Ysmir," I whispered to myself. Not only did he appear near frozen, but the frost burns were horrific, even worse than the burns from the flames his brother has suffered. I listened to Vilkas breathe rapidly and I knew the pain he was suffering was intense. Even with the beast-blood that flowed through his veins wouldn't be helping.

"Can you help him?" I heard Farkas ask, looking to my left to see him propped against the door frame.

"I don't know."

More footsteps as Aela appeared behind Farkas, holding up a small pack. "The shop across the road had a few potions. This should help you feel better," she stated, handing one to Farkas.

"What do you those things actually do?" I asked.

"I would call it invigorating rather than actual healing. Basically they make you feel better though you still need wounds attended to." She paused, looking at Vilkas. "Can you help him, Ragnar?"

"I'll do what I can."

I got down on my knees next to Vilkas and summoned the magic within again, concentrating hard. I don't know how long I cast for but I opened my eyes to see it was working, though noticed my own vision was darkening at the edges. I thought it was simply an effect of the spell on Vilkas and thought nothing about it until I felt my head start to spin and the last thing I heard was my head slamming on the wooden floor below me.

I don't know how long I was out or what time it was when I woke later. I only felt something cold on my forehead as I felt myself regain consciousness, weakly trying to rub my forehead.

"It's okay, Ragnar," I heard a feminine voice say quietly.

"Where am I?"

"We're still in Winterhold."

"What happened?"

"You passed out while trying to heal Vilkas. A mage living in the inn helped out. He said you drained yourself too much."

"Is Vilkas okay?"

"He's still a bit sore but he'll recover. Farkas is okay too."

I finally opened my eyes, noticing Aela sat on the bed next to me. I was laying bare-chested with furs only covering my lower half. 'So, someone has undressed me.' I looked at her again and noticed the plain face, cleaned of war paint, and a look in her eyes that I'd seen once or twice before. I swallowed, as although I still felt very weak, I wasn't going to say no. She continued to press a cold cloth to my forehead.

"We're still in the inn?"

"We are. But the innkeeper allowed me to move you into the basement. Farkas and Vilkas have the two rooms upstairs." I opened my mouth to say something but figured nothing I said would sound right, so stayed quiet. "I also locked the door so we can have some privacy." I must have looked surprised. I certainly felt it. I guess that's why she laughed. "You're a good friend, Ragnar. And a good man."

"Thanks." It was the only thing I could think of to say. As I've said, I'm not always good with words.

She leaned down to kiss me and it felt… different to those we shared in the Underforge when we first slept together. I guess there was something between us, but we both knew it didn't involve the L word. But she obviously thought things had changed between us too, I'm not sure why, as she undressed rather quickly, allowing me an unhindered view of her body once again before she joined me under the furs. Any weakness on my part disappeared as soon as I felt the warm skin of her breasts under my hand and her hot breath on my neck as… well, that's for me and her to know only.

There wasn't too much more sleep that night in the Frozen Hearth Inn.