Info: Moved the FYI into Author's thoughts. On with the story.
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Just as the silence began to stretch, a figure approached, her footsteps firm on the stone floor. Delphine. Her expression was set, her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now held a cold, unwavering focus as they landed on Harin.
"There's one more thing," she said, her voice low and grave. "We know about Paarthurnax."
"You know… what?" Harin's brow furrowed slightly.
Delphine's jaw tightened. "Paarthurnax. The dragon that the Greybeards have been sheltering all these years."
"But… he helped me," she said.
"We needed his help then. We don't now. And it's long overdue for him to answer for his crimes." Delphine's eyes narrowed. "He wasn't just any dragon. He was Alduin's right hand. He committed atrocities so infamous they're still whispered about, thousands of years later."
Harin felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She stared at Delphine, disbelief battling with a growing sense of unease.
"He needs to die," Delphine stated, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. "He deserves to die. And it falls to you to do it." She paused, her gaze unwavering.
"He helped Alduin enslave our ancestors. He may have betrayed Alduin in the end, but that makes him more dangerous, not less. He knows Alduin's strategies, his weaknesses, his strengths. We cannot risk him returning to his old master. We cannot afford to give him the chance to betray us as he betrayed Alduin."
Delphine took a step closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper, though it carried the weight of an oath. "Until he's dead… I'm sorry, Dragonborn, but we would dishonor our oaths as Blades if we continued to aid you. Make your choice, Dragonborn. You're either with us, or against us." With that, she turned and left the hall, leaving Harin standing there, the weight of her words a crushing burden amidst the fragile peace.
"An oath?" Ibnor's voice, quiet at first, gained strength as Delphine turned. He didn't raise his voice, but his words carried a sharp edge that stopped her in her tracks. "You speak of oaths, Delphine, yet you seem remarkably selective about which ones you choose to honor."
Delphine turned back fully, her eyes narrowing to slits. "What are you implying?"
Ibnor took a step forward, his gaze locking with hers. "I'm implying that the Blades' history is rather… inconvenient for your current argument. You claim Paarthurnax must die for his past transgressions, for his service to Alduin. But what of your own origins?"
He paused, letting his words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, his voice gaining a rhythmic cadence, as if reciting a well-learned lesson.
"The Blades weren't always the Blades. They were the Dragonguard. Founded by Reman I, an Akaviri warlord who united the Tsaesci invaders under his banner. Their purpose? To hunt dragons. And who did they serve? The Dragonborn Emperors of the Second Empire." Ibnor's gaze intensified.
"They built the Cloud Ruler Temple. They dedicated Alduin's Wall at Sky Haven Temple, commemorating the defeat of the World-Eater. They hunted dragons to near extinction for centuries. And then… the Second Empire fell. The Dragonguard was disbanded. But some remnants remained, clinging to their original purpose. They became nomadic, searching for an heir to the Ruby Throne. And when they found him, a Dragonborn named Tiber Septim, they pledged their service anew. They became… the Blades." He paused again, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"So tell me, Delphine. These Blades, these self-proclaimed guardians of the Dragonborn, sworn to protect them… were they not also sworn to the Dragonborn Emperors who hunted dragons to the brink of extinction? Were they not complicit in those very acts you now condemn Paarthurnax for?" Ibnor's voice softened slightly, but the steel in his eyes remained.
"Paarthurnax turned against Alduin. He taught mortals the Way of the Voice, giving them the means to fight back. He helped defeat Alduin. He has spent millennia in contemplation, seeking atonement. And you, claiming to uphold the oaths of the Blades, demand his death? You demand he pay for the sins of his past, while conveniently ignoring your own organization's complicity in similar acts?" He met Delphine's gaze directly, his voice now filled with a quiet challenge.
"Perhaps, Delphine, it is not Paarthurnax who dishonors the oaths of the Blades. Perhaps… it is you."
Delphine's face remained impassive, a mask of cold resolve. For a moment, she simply stared at Ibnor, her silence amplifying the tension in the hall. Then, a muscle twitches in her jaw.
"History is written by the victors," she said, her voice low and tight. "And the Dragons were not victorious. Paarthurnax chose his side. He made his bed. Now he must lie in it."
Ibnor shook his head slowly. "That's a convenient simplification, Delphine. History is far more complex than simple victories and defeats. It's a tapestry woven with shades of grey, with choices made in desperate times, with consequences that ripple through millennia. You speak of his choice to side with Alduin, but what choice did he truly have? Was he not born into servitude? Was he not bound by his very nature as a dragon to serve the World-Eater?"
He paused, his gaze softening slightly as he turned to Harin, including her in the conversation. "Even dragons are not simply monsters. They are beings of immense power, yes, but they are also capable of change, of growth, of repentance. Paarthurnax chose to defy his nature. He chose to turn against Alduin, even at great personal risk. He has spent centuries in quiet contemplation, striving to understand the Way of the Voice, seeking redemption."
Ibnor turned back to Delphine, his voice regaining its sharp edge. "And what of the Blades' own choices? The Dragonguard hunted dragons for centuries, nearly wiping them out. They served emperors who waged wars and conquered lands. They were instruments of power, wielded by mortals for their own ends. Are they not also responsible for the suffering they inflicted? Should they, too, be judged solely by their past actions, regardless of any subsequent change or atonement?" He spread his hands in a gesture of appeal.
"You demand absolute judgment for Paarthurnax, yet offer yourselves the leniency of historical context. You cling to a rigid interpretation of your oaths while ignoring the complexities of the past. Is that truly justice, Delphine? Or is it simply vengeance cloaked in the guise of duty?"
Delphine remained silent for a long moment, her eyes fixed on Ibnor, her expression unreadable. Then, her lips curled into a thin, almost imperceptible sneer.
"You twist words, Ibnor. You try to equate the actions of men to the actions of a dragon, a creature of pure instinct and destruction." Her voice dropped, becoming laced with a dangerous undercurrent. "Paarthurnax is a threat. A potential weapon for Alduin's return. We cannot… will not take that risk."
"A threat?" Ibnor scoffed, a hint of weary disbelief in his voice. "Or a teacher? A guide? He taught the Dragonborn the Thu'um, Delphine. He helped her defeat Alduin. He has shown nothing but wisdom and guidance. And you would have her repay him with death? For what? For a potential threat that exists only in your own fear-driven assumptions?"
"Harin," he said softly, "you have spoken with him. You have learned from him. You have looked into his eyes. Do you believe he is a threat?"
Before Harin could answer, Ibnor turned back to Delphine, his voice taking on a sharper, more pointed tone.
"And let's not forget your raison d'être. I'm sure you're wondering what it is. It means the core of your own organization's purpose, Delphine. The Blades were born from the Dragonguard, a splinter group seeking redemption for their failure to protect Reman III. Their very existence is defined by their service to the Dragonborn Emperors." He paused, letting his words sink in.
"Protecting the Dragonborn. That is the fundamental oath you claim to uphold. It is the legacy you inherited from your Akaviri predecessors. Not dragon slaying, not vengeance, but protection."
He continued, his voice steady and firm. "The Blades adapted, they evolved from a purely military force into an intelligence agency, but their core mission remained unchanged: to serve and safeguard the Dragonborn rulers. That was their purpose then, and that is their purpose now. How can you, in good conscience, claim to uphold that oath while demanding the death of one who aided the Dragonborn in their most crucial hour? How can you reconcile your demand for Paarthurnax's death with the very reason the Blades exist?"
He looked at Harin, then back at Delphine, the question hanging heavy in the air. "Which oath do you truly honor, Delphine? The one you selectively interpret to justify your desire for vengeance, or the one that defines the very essence of the Blades, to protect the Dragonborn, no matter the cost?"
Then Ibnor's voice hardened, his eyes narrowing. "If you're so hell-bent on your vengeance," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "leave the Blades and do it by your own hand. Hunt him yourself, Delphine. Kill Paarthurnax every time he rises back from the dead, if that's what it takes to sate your bloodlust. But do not tarnish the oath and mission that the true Blades uphold. You may reject this coming from me, but I can assure you, if you have a discussion with Esbern, he will agree with me. He is a Loremaster, after all. He knows what I'm talking about."
Seeing Delphine still stubbornly silent, her jaw clenched, Ibnor took another step closer, his posture becoming more confrontational.
"We can settle this with civil discussion," he said, his voice dropping to a near growl. "Or if words don't reach you, maybe fist and blades can. Do you want to test the saying 'might makes right,' Delphine? Throw your life on the line. We'll see what is more important to you: your duty, or your selfishness."
The tension in the air was palpable, the threat of violence hanging heavy between them. Esbern, who had been listening intently, his brow furrowed in deep thought, finally stepped forward, placing a hand on Ibnor's arm.
"Ibnor… perhaps…" he began, his voice hesitant but firm. He then turned to Delphine, his expression pleading. "Delphine, please… Ibnor makes valid points. The history… it is as he says. We must consider the full context of the Blades' purpose, of Paarthurnax's actions."
Delphine finally broke her rigid stance, her shoulders slumping slightly. She looked from Ibnor to Esbern, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. She took a deep breath, her gaze falling to the floor.
"I…" she began, her voice barely a whisper, the word catching in her throat. "I need… time." She looked up at them, her eyes still shadowed with doubt, the rigid set of her shoulders softening, replaced by a weariness that mirrored the exhaustion Harin and Ibnor themselves felt. "I need to consider what you've said." With that, she turned abruptly and walked away, her footsteps echoing in the sudden, heavy silence she left behind.
Esbern watched her go, a worried frown creasing his brow, before hurrying after her. Harin and Ibnor exchanged a long, meaningful look. The unspoken question hung in the air, will Delphine change her mind?
Shrugging off the lingering tension as best they could, they turned their attention to the task at hand. The fate of Skyrim, and perhaps the world, rested on their next move. They made their way to Whiterun. Upon reaching Dragonsreach, the grand hall is bustling with activity, unlike its usual tranquility. Jarl Balgruuf greeted them with a nod, a flicker of his usual jovial nature returning.
"Dragonborn. As I promised, my men stand ready. The great chains are oiled. We await your word."
Harin hesitated for a moment, the weight of the task settling upon her.
"I'm ready," she finally said, her voice firm.
Balgruuf's face lit up with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "My men know what to do. Make sure you do your part. I'm putting my city in your hands."
He turned and strode purposefully towards the back of the throne room, beckoning Harin and Ibnor to follow. They ascended the grand staircase, arriving at the Great Porch. The wind whipped around them, carrying the scent of snow and pine. Balgruuf surveyed the vast expanse of sky.
"You do have a plan for luring a dragon here, yeah?" he asked, a hint of nervous anticipation in his voice. Balgruuf, now in position near the edge of the porch, looked at her expectantly.
"Go ahead and call this dragon of yours. We're ready." He shifted his weight, glancing nervously at the sky. "What are you waiting for? Let's get this over with." He looked back at Harin. "We're ready when you are."
Harin steeled her resolve and unleashed the Call Dragon shout.
"OD-AH-VIING!!"
A moment of tense silence hung in the air, then a distant roar echoed across the plains. Odahviing descended from the clouds, a magnificent, terrifying silhouette against the pale sky. He circled above Whiterun, his eyes burning with a fierce curiosity, testing Harin's power.
Odahviing's fiery breath scorched the stone, and his powerful wings beat against the air, creating gusts that threatened to knock the defenders off their feet. Harin, using Dragonrend, managed to force the dragon closer to the porch.
Balgruuf, watching the battle unfold, yelled out to his guards, "Steady! Steady, now! Keep under cover until it's down!" He then shouted to Harin, "Hold your fire until he's close!"
Harin, using the terrain to her advantage, lured Odahviing towards the rear of the porch. As the dragon roared and lunged, a large wooden yoke, triggered by a hidden mechanism, dropped down and snapped around his neck, holding him fast.
"Got him!" Balgruuf exclaimed, a mixture of relief and triumph in his voice. He turned to Harin, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I'm still amazed that your plan worked. You'll be the toast of Whiterun for this!"
Harin approached the captured dragon cautiously. Odahviing's eyes, though trapped, still burned with intelligence.
"Nid! Horvutah med kodaav," Odahviing rumbled, his voice laced with frustration. "Caught like a bear in a trap… Zok frini grind ko grah drun viiki, Dovahkiin." He paused, as if remembering something. "Ah. I forget. You do not have the dovah speech. My… eagerness to meet you in battle was my… undoing, Dovahkiin. I salute your, hmm, low cunning in devising such a grahmindol, strategem."
"Zu'u bonaar," he continued. "You went to a great deal of trouble to put me in this… humiliating position. Hind siiv Alduin, hmm? No doubt you want to know where to find Alduin?"
"That's right," Harin said, her voice firm. "Where is he hiding?"
"Rinik vazah," Odahviing replied. "An apt phrase. Alduin bovul. One reason I came to your call was to test your Thu'um myself. Many of us have begun to question Alduin's lordship, whether his Thu'um was truly the strongest. Among ourselves, of course. Mu ni meyye. None were yet ready to openly defy him."
"You were telling me where to find Alduin?" Harin prompted.
"Unslaad krosis," Odahviing said. "Innumerable pardons. I digress. He has travelled to Sovngarde to regain his strength, devouring the sillesejoor… the souls of the mortal dead. A privilege he jealously guards… His door to Sovngarde is at Skuldafn, one of his ancient fanes high in the eastern mountains. Mindoraan, pah ok middovahhe lahvraan til. I surely do not need to warn you that all his remaining strength is marshalled there. Zu'u lost ofan hin laan… now that I have answered your question, you will allow me to go free?"
"Not until Alduin is defeated," Harin stated firmly.
"Hmm… krosis," Odahviing rumbled. "There is one detail about Skuldafn I neglected to mention."
"Tell me what you know, then," Harin said.
"Only this. You have the Thu'um of a dovah, but without the wings of one, you will never set foot in Skuldafn. Of course, I could fly you there. But not while imprisoned like this."
Harin considered this for a moment. She looked at the guards, then back at Odahviing. "Alright," she said, her voice firm, addressing the dragon directly.
"We'll release you. But understand this, Odahviing. If you try anything… anything… while we're in the air, I will bring you down myself. Do I make myself clear?"
Odahviing met her gaze, a flicker of amusement in his reptilian eyes. "Gol hahnu, Dovahkiin," he rumbled, the words of power resonating deep in his chest. "I give you my word. For now, our interests align. I desire Alduin's downfall as much as you. Besides," he added with a low rumble, "where would I go? I am not eager to face the wrath of the other dov again, especially after this… grahmindol, humiliation."
Harin nodded to the guards. "Open the trap."
"Carry on, soldier. This is all part of the Dragonborn's plan." Jarl Balgruuf said to the guards. The yoke stirred and clanked before reeling Odahviing.
With Odahviing free, Harin and Ibnor climbed onto his back. Harin settled herself firmly, keeping a wary eye on the dragon. Before they took off, she repeated her warning, her voice low enough for only Odahviing to hear.
"Remember what I said."
Odahviing gave a low chuckle that rumbled through his massive frame. "Zu'u los hin laan, Dovahkiin," he rumbled. "I am bound to this… for the duration of this flight, at least." He then spread his massive wings, and with a powerful thrust, they launched into the sky.
As they soared towards the eastern mountains, the wind rushing past them, Odahviing tilted his head back and let out a roar. Only the dragon knows why.
"May Kynareth guard you while you pass through her realm!" Balgruuf shouted from below, his voice quickly swallowed by the wind.
The flight to Skuldafn was breathtaking. The world stretched out beneath them like a vast tapestry of forests, mountains, and frozen plains. Harin kept a close watch on Odahviing, but the dragon remained true to his word, his focus solely on reaching their destination. The air grew thinner and colder as they ascended into the higher altitudes, the jagged peaks of the eastern mountains looming larger with every beat of Odahviing's powerful wings.
Skuldafn was a desolate ruin on a mountaintop, its grey stones stark against the snowy peaks behind it. Broken walls and pillars lay scattered across the snow-covered ground. Crumbling staircases connected the different levels of the ruin, some half-buried in drifts. Stone arches and platforms jutted precariously from the cliffs. A light snow or mist drifted through the ruins, creating an eerie atmosphere. It felt like a place of ancient power and death, a gateway to another world.
Odahviing circled once above the ruins, then descended towards a narrow landing platform carved into the rock face. As he landed, the ground trembled beneath them.
"Here we are, Dovahkiin," he rumbled, his voice low and ominous. "Skuldafn. Alduin's gate to Sovngarde. Dro vahkiin, Skuldafn los. Be warned. This place is… tainted." He paused, his reptilian eyes narrowing. "My debt is paid. I leave you now. Our paths may cross again, Dovahkiin. Perhaps as allies… perhaps as enemies. Only time will tell." With a powerful beat of his wings, he launched himself back into the storm-wracked sky, leaving Harin and Ibnor alone in the shadow of Skuldafn.