4E 202, High Hrothgar
Kiera Fendalyn
Vermithor twisted, his bronze wings cutting through the stormwinds as a pair of dragons dove from above. Lightning leapt from his jaws, burning through one dragon's wing membrane. The beast tumbled, screeching as it spiraled onto the ground.
Kiera clung tight to the bronze ridge of his neck, eyes flicking downward.
Far below them, at the foot of the mountain, Ivarstead was consumed in battle. Rahgot's forces that were settled on the Rift launched a massive offensive towards the town. She could even see the Dragon Priest, green mask and claymore in hand, butchering his way to the town.
Ivarstead wasn't that defensive as a town, being nothing more than a squat village of timber and stone. Though the real defense came from the numerous camps that surrounded it.
Trenches filled with sharpened stakes, hastily built towers of wood, lines of palisades bristling like teeth.
That kind of foresight and preparedness from the Jarls had perhaps saved the lives of every soul in Ivarstead. The guards from every Hold formed lines that held together against the undead tide.
Banners of every color fluttered in the wind. Yellows of Whiterun, greens of the Reach, reds of Haafingar, blues of Eastmarch.
That was exactly what Kiera had hoped for. This was what Skyrim could be. A people united. Not divided by crowns or cloaks, but standing together against the true enemy.
But Ivarstead was only half the war.
Here on High Hrothgar, a storm raged.
Seven dragons tore the skies. Alduin, Odahviing, Sahloknir, and others whose names she did not know. Paarthurnax was locked in a deadly struggle against Alduin.
Up high in the sky, Odahviing circled the mountaintop like a hawk, looking for weaknesses.
"Never have so many kruziik gathered in one place," Vermithor rumbled, his wings steady as thunder. His tone was low with awe. "It is… intimidating."
A smile appeared on Kiera's face despite the circumstances. "You're not gonna chicken out on me are you?"
"On the contrary," The bronze dragon's teeth bared in what almost passed for a smile. Kiera could feel his excitement from their bond. "I want to see just what makes them different from the rest of us."
She patted his scaled neck. "We'll deal with Alduin later. First, we gotta thin out the pack."
Her eyes flicked downward. Battles raged across the mountain courtyard. Ulfric Stormcloak released his own shout, empowering his allies. The use of the Thu'um caught the attention of a silver dragon, the beast swooping down towards the Jarl of Windhelm.
Jarl Balgruuf, Galmar Stone-Fist, Irileth, and Brunwulf Free-Winter were there in an instant, locking shields to block against the coming dragon's charge.
Vilkas took the chance as he jumped to the dragon's back, already in werewolf form as he raked its back with his claws.
The Emperor himself was in the fight, Tullius, Maro, and Legate Rikke with him as they drove back another of the beasts.
The last dragon was occupied by Delphine and Esbern, with a collection of the Vigilants supporting them. Delphine had approached Kiera earlier, introducing herself and offering her their service.
Kiera had heard them out, but decided to refuse the offer. She wasn't blind to the woman's clear scorn towards the dragons, even the good ones. It was something she needed to change before Kiera could ever agree to working together.
Her gaze then fell to the fiercest fight of all. Gerron, Isran, and Savos Aren holding Odahviing at bay. The crimson dragon's wings churned hurricanes, a single beat causing massive winds to slam against the mountain top.
Gerron raised his dragonbone shield, holding against it as Savos unleashed blasts of frost and lightning that struggled to hit the airborne beast. Isran hunkered down behind them, forming a glowing orb in his palms before a titanic beam of sunlight was unleashed that clipped Odahviing's wing.
They'd hold. If anyone could against the kruziik of wind, it was those three. But for how long?
"Vermithor!" Kiera shouted against the wind. "It's time to use Dragonrend. Keep clear!"
"Yes, Kiera!" Vermithor said, "Good luck!"
Leaping from his back, she prepared herself.
Her mind went back to the day she learned of this particular Shout.
Dragonrend wasn't like most shouts. It was specifically created to be used against dragonkind, powered by the utter hate and rage the mortals had towards the dragons.
Every single negative feeling they had towards Dragonkind were poured into the three words, which only a mortal could ever speak.
They were powered by hatred, which was exactly why Kiera's shout was weak.
"JOOR ZAH FRUL!"
Previous masters of the Voice could use it to rend a dragon apart from the inside. A shout that weaponizes the hate and rage of mortals enslaved by dragons. Centuries of being nothing more than tools or snacks towards the beasts. Centuries of forming sheer utter disgust.
But Kiera never felt that hatred. She had seen herself what Alduin was capable of. How callous and empty he had been with mortal lives.
But she also experienced how kind and respectful they could be. Paarthurnax and Vermithor had shown her that not all dragons were evil. Not all of them deserved that hatred.
That was the reason her Shout lacked the conviction it needed.
All of the Dragons were merely knocked out of the sky, feeling neither pain nor discomfort, staggering in mid air as they fell to the earth. Alduin, Paarthurnax, Odahviing, all grounded by her mortal voice.
Kiera rolled through the snow, came up with Dawnbreaker gleaming, and sprang upon a green dragon's head. With a cry, she plunged the blade deep into the skull. Radiant fire burst from the wound, holy light searing the beast as it thrashed once, twice. Then it collapsed, lifeless.
The battlefield howled in fury as the dragon's skin burned, iridescent lights flowing inside her and filling her with power.
Alduin's piercing, crimson red eyes regarded her with interest. Where his breath touched snow, steam rose.
"Dovahkiin." His voice shook the earth. "Fin sul do un grind. The destined meeting, at last. You wield the voice of those wretched heroes… yet your rage is a candle. You do not hate us. You are weak."
Kiera raised Dawnbreaker as Paarthurnax appeared behind her. "I don't need hatred. FUS RO DAH!"
The blast hurled Alduin backward a step. Snarling, the World-Eater answered in kind. "FUS RO DAH!"
The difference in their power was apparent, as Paarthurnax was sent flying into the monastery walls, stone splitting and towers tumbling.
"Now, Vermithor!" Kiera shouted.
Vermithor roared, flying in and crashing into Alduin's flank. Lightning bubbled in his throat as he shouted. "QO SPAAN LOK!"
The lightning sparked against Alduin blackened scales. Kiera darted beneath, Dawnbreaker singing arcs of fire. Her flesh instantly changed as she silently casted Dragonflesh.
Together, dragon and Dragonborn pressed him.
And then Paarthurnax rose. The elder's wings spread wide, voice booming like the heart of the mountain itself.
"YOL TOOR SHUL!"
Fire—ancient, pure, and terrible—erupted from his maw. The Kruziik of flame sent a torrent so fierce it melted snow and stone alike, scorching Alduin's side. The air itself warped, steam hissing into a thick fog as the sudden heat devoured winter's breath.
Kiera stumbled, coughing. Visibility shrank to nothing. The mountaintop was shrouded in rolling mist.
Alduin's growl trembled through the veil. "Dovahkiin… this world bends to me. Even the heavens obey." He roared. "LEIN AL STRUN"
Clouds surged overhead, black and roiling. Meteors formed, fiery streaks tearing the sky.
Kiera narrowed her eyes and raised her voice to match his. "LOK VAH KOOR!"
The clouds tore apart, meteors bursting into nothing as clear sky burned through.
Alduin's wings thrashed. His gaze smoldered as Kiera met with a defiant stare.
And then, cutting through fog, Odahviing's roar echoed through the mountain. "VEN GAAR NOS!"
The world twisted. Towering cyclones erupted across the courtyard, winds shrieking like banshees. The battlefield dissolved into chaos. Snow lifted in blizzards, men vanished into howling maelstroms, warriors staggered, blind and deaf in the storm.
Kiera's stomach sank. 'Kruziik of the Wind…' Odahviing's mastery of air and storm was certainly second to none.
Through the blizzard, a shape moved. Gerron. His voice thundered above the gale, hammer raised high, eyes blazing with fury.
"ODAHVIIING!"
He leapt, cutting through the storm itself, hammer crashing down towards the crimson scales.
…
4E 202, Dragonsreach
Lydia the Housecarl
The room trembled again with every distant roar outside, the children huddled together with fear.
Lydia stood between them and the heavy doors, hand resting on her sword hilt, trying to look calm despite the pounding in her chest.
"A-are we gonna be okay?" Dagny, the Jarl's only daughter, broke into sobs.
"We'll be fine," Frothar said quickly, though his lip quivered. He wrapped his arms around his sister, shoulders squared like a man twice his age. "The guards will protect us, and Uncle Hrongar will win. You'll see."
Lydia's heart clenched. He tried so hard to be brave, the boy who would one day inherit Whiterun. She forced herself to nod. "Your brother is right. Nothing will happen to you while I stand here."
While Lydia wasn't technically their housecarl since she was assigned to Nelkir, Hrongar trusted her enough to watch the three as the rest of the guards were pulled in the defense of the city at large.
Truth be told, Lydia would rather be out there than in here, to be outside fighting with her shield-brothers. To defend the city, to die with honor if need be. Instead, she was here, the last line of defense for three frightened children.
It was no small duty. No—it was perhaps the most important, for the future of Whiterun sits in this room.
Then Dagny's watery eyes lifted. "W-Where's Nelkir?"
The words froze Lydia's blood. She turned. The corner where the boy had been sitting was empty.
"By the Nine…" she cursed, bolting for the door. She already knew where he had gone. There was only one place in the entire castle that he would go to.
She thrust her arm out at two guards rushing down the hall. "Stay with the children. Don't let anyone through those doors!"
"Yes, Housecarl!"
She ran through Dragonsreach, descending the corridors as she reached the basement of the kitchens. It was empty, all the servants evacuated into more defensible rooms.
She looked around, it was completely dark.
"Nelkir!" She shouted into the darkness. No reply.
She drew steel, shield sliding into her grip. The darkness swallowed the sound of her breath, of her boots scraping over flagstone. The torches down here had long since guttered out, leaving only her courage to light the way.
She realized it as she arrived. The door. The cursed door.
It was open.
"No…"
She raised her shield, stepping forward, and a sudden searing pain went through her body.
Her eyes widened as the blade burst through her chest. She staggered, sword slipping from her fingers, blood spilling over steel. A ragged gasp tore from her throat as she turned her head.
"Nel… kir…?"
The boy stood there, pale as a corpse, eyes blank as moonstone. In his hands gleamed a blade she had only seen in old depictions. A long, curved sword of blackest ebony, its surface shimmering with a red glow that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Her blood slid along the edge and vanished into it, consumed. The weapon drank her life greedily.
Her vision started to blur.
The boy's face was hollow, unfeeling. Not the restless child she had guarded, but a puppet bound to something far darker.
The blade ripped free, and her breath left her in a choked sob. The world tilted. She collapsed, cheek striking cold stone.
The last thing she heard before darkness claimed her was the voice. Low, cruel, whispering from the door itself.
"Excellent work, child."
And then Lydia knew no more.
…
AN: Woo, what a chapter. This chapter was quite hard to write, though I'm quite satisfied with how it ended up.
First things first, the battle at High Hrothgar. Kiera casts Dragonrend and the Kruziik show why they are feared.
Kiera and Alduin finally meet the destined and prophesied enemies.
Vermithor and Kiera are a deadly duo together, as Alduin found out. Though he's far from being defeated.
Gerron will take over as the next POV for the events up here, if that wasn't obvious.
Anyways, Lydia is dead. Damn. When I first wrote this story I struggled to find a role to place her in. Initially she was supposed to accompany the main party in their travels, but capable as she is, she was nowhere near the level of Kiera, Gerron, or Serana.
Then I had an idea where she would be the catalyst for the Companion's story line, but I scrapped that since it contributed almost nothing to the main story.
In the end, I decided this was good enough. She became the reason for Nelkir's awakening as the Champion of Mephala.
I hope it was satisfactory, though I'm quite worried about the reception since she's a pretty beloved character.
As always, more chapters are available on my Pat_reon. Chapter 69 should be available by the time this chapter was posted. Just look up my name and you'll find me.
Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Cheers!