“Lok… Vah…Koor!”
The Shout echoed through the mist, breaking it apart. Gormlaith was confident that Alduin was weakened and would be forced to fight them instead of hiding in the mist. “The endless wait gives way to battle! Alduin’s doom, his death or ours!”
Meliandra’s eyes scanned the skies, her heart racing. Beside her the fallen heroes from a time so long ago stood along with her, swords drawn as they too searched for the dragon that had plagued their world and now hers. Her Elven eyes caught sight of the large black wings cresting the rocky crag before them and called out, “There!” as she pointed into the sky.
“Fo…” came Hakon’s Shout, “Krah…Diin!”
“Yol…Toor…Shul!” followed Felldir with his.
Their Shouts struck Alduin, and he began fighting the forces that fought against him. “Pah look joore! Hin kah fen kos bonaar!” The dragon careened into the firm earth below, shuddering all those who stood there. She drew an arrow, crafted by the highly skilled blacksmith of the Skyforge, Eorlund Gray-Mane and enchanted by the court mage, Farengar, apparently Balgruuf had made requests of his people to pray for the Dragonborn’s victory over the World-Eater with some of the citizens of Whiterun gifting her potions and enchanted armor and weapons to increase her chances at success. With a trained eye, she aimed the nocked arrow at the dragon’s vulnerable, soft underbelly where few scales gave what little protection they could and, saying a quick prayer to the Divines, let loose the arrow.
Alduin Shouted in the direction the arrow came from; Meliandra dropped to her knees against the force of his Shout, but stayed where she was, her specially crafted bow from Adrianne made from the bone of the dragon slain so many years ago at the Western Watchtower, gripped in her hand.
Their eyes met.
He was still strong and fought valiantly at the strength of the words Shouted at him; his eyes shone with the fire of his contempt.
Meliandra stood to her feet; she felt something warm on her leg, and looking down, saw a jagged gash running down the length of her calf, a pool of blood staining the ground where she had been brought to her knees. She absently noted the beginnings of bruises on exposed skin and found herself oddly thinking of how many marks were revealing themselves beneath her armor, Alduin’s attacks had included boulders hurled towards her and her companions and had caused many an incident she had crashed hard against the ground in an effort to avoid being squashed beneath one.
She was tired, both in mind and body. From the moment she had landed in Skuldafn she had been fighting everything from skeletons and draugr to dragons and a dragon priest. By the time she had gone through the portal to arrive in Sovngarde, she had begun to believe that this was a fool’s errand and she would meet the fate she was destined for: death.
“Die, World-Eater,” came Felldir’s voice, “in despair and fear.”
She looked at her companions; death had not stopped them, merely postponed their greatest battle millennia, until the appointed time, until now when she was fated to join their fate.
“Weak,” hissed Alduin. “You are weak.” Arrows fell upon him yet he struggled toward her as if there were none. “You are nothing, a mere insect to squash beneath my feet. You are not worthy to be called Dovahkiin, the audacity of you, a mere mortal, to consider yourself worthy of the title. You shall always be weak. Your name shall be forgotten.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I am not the one who is weak, World-Eater,” she snarled.
He Shouted at her, but her ward was faster and bore the brunt of his attack.
“You who run and hide here in Sovngarde, licking your wounds as you lose power over the dragons you have raised. They question you now. Are you worthy to lead them? They are beginning to doubt you, Alduin.”
He struggled to break the Dragonrend Shout her fellow warriors threw at him as their blades struck him drawing blood.
“I thank the Divines for my unconquerable soul,” she stated determinedly as she drew an arrow on the dragon. “My head is bloody, but you shall not see it bowed.” The arrow sliced through the air, striking him in his maw. “You, the menace of the years, have found me unafraid.” She drew another arrow and took aim again. “I am the master of my fate.” She let her arrow loose and struck him through the neck. “I am Dovahkiin.”
The ground shook as Alduin reared up, the length of his body stretched to its fullest as he cried out, “Zu’u Unslaad! Zu’u nis ablaan!”
They stood in amazement as they watched the great beast convulse violently, the ground quaking beneath them, and the skies lit up as lightning streaked above them. Alduin gasped as his immense body began to rupture before their eyes, an agonized scream ripping through his throat before dying to a high-pitched whine right at his body burst into nothingness.
Meliandra collapsed to her knees, an audible sigh escaping her lips. She began to pray to the Divines as tears began to creep out of her eyelids. She had survived, she had not believed that she would, yet here she knelt, bloody but breathing and able to walk away. She ached, her muscles complaining at the slightest movement and her body longed for rest.
Victorious cries rose up around her and soon she felt the hands of the warriors of old resting upon her shoulders and begin to shout, “All hail the Dragonborn!”
“This was a mighty deed!” came the booming voice of Tsun. “The doom of Alduin encompassed at last, and cleansed is Sovngarde of his evil snare. They will sing of this battle in Shor’s Hall forever. But your fate lies elsewhere. When you have completed your count of days, I may welcome you again, with glad friendship, and bid you join the blessed feasting. When you are ready to rejoin the living, just bid me so, and I will send you back.”
“Come, feast with us,” Gormlaith requested joyfully.
“I must get back,” Meliandra responded. “My job is not done yet.”
“Dragonborn,” came a voice she did not recognize. The young monarch approached her and asked, “Tell me, what has happened to my kingdom? What has happened since Ulfric challenged my rule?”
“High King Torygg,” she said with recognition and a slight bow. “Skyrim is at war with the Empire. Ulfric challenges Elisif’s claim to the throne.”
“Ulfric challenged me in the Old Ways. I accepted and lost. He should sit upon the throne.”
“Too bad the Empire doesn’t agree. Now that Alduin is defeated, the fighting will resume. That is why I must return as soon as possible.”
“Then you shall,” Tsun interjected. “Return now to Nirn, with this rich boon from Shor, my lord: a Shout to bring a hero from Sovngarde in your hour of need.”
She gave a brief nod and braced herself.
“Nahl…Daal…Vus!”
She felt herself falling, fast. The world was distorted as she seemingly fell through time and space. ‘Is this what it was like when Hakon and Felldir sent Alduin to her time? Is this what the dragon experienced?’
She fell, face first, into a snowbank. “Gotta work on that landing thing, Tsun,” she muttered as she brought herself up, dusting the snow from her body and shaking it from her hair. Suddenly she sensed the presence of others and began to turn around.
She was greeted by a group of Thalmor, their conjured swords in their hands, all watching Meliandra. “Shit,” she mumbled as she tried to summon her strength to conjure her own swords, but a voice stopped her where she stood.”
“It’s time to come home, Areyna.”
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