It was an uneventful trip back from the Karthspire, if a quiet one, until they got to the fork in the road that turned south toward Falkreath. Both Dardeh and Qara seemed lost in their own thoughts, sorting through possibilities, options that existed and those that had been ruled out in their visit to Sky Haven Temple. Harald kept his own council, for the most part, except for one moment.
“Do you think I did the right thing, showing Delphine the ring?”
Dardeh turned to him and nodded. “Absolutely. You did well, Harald. It was exactly what needed to happen.”
“Why wasn’t she going to talk to us, Uncle Dar?” Qara asked quietly.
“Because twenty years ago she told me exactly what she told you. We’d just finished a truce council up in High Hrothgar, and your father and Galmar had just left, Harald. They weren’t pleased with me. General Tullius and his entourage weren’t pleased with me. Arngeir and the rest of the Greybeards weren’t pleased with me – but all I wanted to do was get a dragon to help me chase down Alduin. I was a nervous wreck. Roggi was a nervous wreck. Delphine picked that particular moment to give me an ultimatum about Paarthurnax, who had just helped us.” He shook his head. “Let’s just say that I was less than charitable, and leave it at that.” Then he chuckled. “She never did like it that I wouldn’t just do whatever she said.”
“So my breaking the stalemate wasn’t a bad thing,” Harald said. He’d been more than a little nervous himself, wondering whether he could influence events without lying, or threatening, or doing the kinds of things that had made people hate his father. It seemed to have gone well enough. Maybe even better than he’d expected.
“Did you know about the enchantment on it?” Dardeh asked him.
“Not really,” he said. “I knew there had to be something special about it for the Nerevarine to give it to me. But I still don’t know what it is.”
“I do,” Qara said with a grin. “Daddy has a necklace that feels just the same. It influences people. So, Harald, even if someone might think about grabbing the ring to try it on, just a suggestion that it could be dangerous probably would stop them.”
Harald smiled at her. It somehow didn’t surprise him that her father would have such an item.
“I never even thought about that. But the Nerevarine was right, wasn’t he? It really did come in handy.”
“It probably will again, Harald,” Dardeh told him.
I have no doubt. I am likely going to need to do a little wheedling back at home to get them to set me loose again. It’s time, though. There are things I want to do.
It wasn’t until they reached the crossroad near Gavrostead that things took a turn for the worse for him. He’d had every expectation that they would turn south, toward Falkreath, and spend the night at Dardeh’s home again, before heading to Ivarstead. He even turned that way and would have begun the climb, except that Dardeh shook his head.
“No, Harald. We’re going to Whiterun and you’re going to take the carriage to Windhelm.”
“What?” Harald stopped cold in the road and stared at him. “What do you mean I’m going to Windhelm?”
“Just what I said,” Dardeh told him, crossing his arms and looking like a much more substantial obstacle than he usually did. Gurgly, scratchy voice and all, Dardeh was still the man who had killed the World-Eater and helped bring the war to a conclusion and at that moment, he looked it. “Your father didn’t want to let you travel alone. Qara and I need to go back up that godsforsaken mountain again so that she can talk to Arngeir about this situation, and then we probably need to go see Paarthurnax as well.”
Harald took a breath to object. There was no reason he couldn’t accompany them. He had the Voice – at least a few words of it – and had proven that he could handle himself well enough. But before he could utter the words, Dardeh cut him off.
“No, Harald. That’s the end of it. You need to go back to Windhelm. You need to make sure your father is still safe. And…” He trailed off for a moment and heaved a sigh. “You need to tell Roggi where we’ve gone and why. He’s not going to be happy, but I can’t always make him happy. Tell him to take care of your father the way he took care of Brynjolf and he’ll understand what I mean.”
“What does that mean?” Qaralana asked.
“It’s not for me to say. Just know that Roggi understands responsibility better than most after some of the things that have happened to him, and after he gets done grumbling there won’t be a soul who would dare approach anyone in that castle.”
Harald was still looking for a way to get around this. It felt like he was being treated like a child, unreasonable though he knew his feelings were. Perhaps the ring might…
“Why don’t I go see them after we’ve gone up to High Hrothgar? I’ve never been there.” He put every bit of persuasion he could into the question.
Dardeh stared at him for a moment and then snorted. “No, Harald. The ring isn’t likely to work on someone who knows it’s there. Besides, you don’t go visit the Greybeards unless they’ve opened High Hrothgar to you. You get summoned. I was summoned twenty years ago. Qara was summoned recently. You haven’t been.” He shook his head. “I really need you to go tell Roggi where I am. Talos only knows how angry he’s going to be but I love him and I don’t want him left in the dark. And I was tasked with getting you home safely.”
Damn it all. He’s right.
So Harald let them put him on the carriage to Windhelm while the two of them dashed off down the road to Riverwood and Helgen, where they would then go through the pass and up the long, long trail to High Hrothgar. He fumed silently all the way back.
I’m supposed to be High King someday and here I am, being trundled about like an infant in a basket.
He trudged up the stairs toward the living quarters, still grinding his teeth and feeling resentful. This wasn’t going to go well. He was going to get the immediate backlash whether he deserved it or not. He was going to get the lecture, once more, that he didn’t really want to hear yet again. And he was going to have to sneak out and make his parents even more angry, after they’d finished being angry at him.
He was in the last short corridor before the residence when he nearly ran face-first into his father. Ulfric stood silent, staring at Harald, for a long, uncomfortable moment before speaking.
“You’re back. I trust things went well?”
Harald weighed what to say. They had gone well in some respects and not in others. As he stared at his father, though, he realized something.
Ulfric looked old. Old, and tired: the shadows beneath his eyes were deeper and darker than ever. The lines on his face were particularly prominent, catching the dim light in such a way as to accentuate them.
It’s just because we’re in a dark corridor. That’s all it is.
It has to be.
“Yes, they did. We found Delphine, and as Dardeh predicted she almost tossed us out on our backsides. But I showed her the ring and pointed out that it wasn’t the Blades’ usual practice to ignore their traditions and oaths. It was… quite effective.”
“And I suppose,” his father said, “she still wants Paarthurnax killed.”
Harald nodded. “Yes, that’s what she wants, and so does Esbern, the old archivist.”
Ulfric looked around. “So where are the others? I’m certain Roggi will be anxious to see his husband.”
Harald froze. Yes. And here it is. Dardeh warned me that Roggi wouldn’t be happy, but hearing Father say it too is terrifying.
“Well, you see…”
Ulfric sighed. “Let me guess. They’ve gone to consult someone else and left you to travel home on your own, even though I specifically asked them not to do so.”
“Don’t be angry with them, Father,” Harald said. “Trust me, I wasn’t happy about this, but Dardeh insisted I take the carriage back from Whiterun for that exact reason. I didn’t feel as though I could cross him. They’re headed for Ivarstead at this moment.”
“I see,” Ulfric said, his tone an odd mixture of resignation and wistfulness. “Well, it would be best if you told Roggi right away. I would accompany you but I must meet with Galmar on business or face a day of whining and nagging.” He started to pass Harald on the outside and then stopped for a moment, giving him a wry smile. “Talos be with you.”
Harald sighed as Ulfric disappeared down the stairs to the throne room. This had all the earmarks of a disaster about to happen and it was in no way a disaster of his making. All he was doing was delivering the message.
It’s no wonder the couriers always leave in a hurry. Nobody welcomes the bearer of ill tidings.
It took him a few minutes to find them in Ulfric’s chambers. Frina sat before the fire and Roggi paced the floor behind her, looking unhappy. In fact, he had the sternest and most dissatisfied expression Harald had ever seen on his face.
Shor help me. This is not going to go well.
“Harald,” Frina said as he stepped into the chamber. “I’m glad you made it back safely.”
“Yes, I…”
“I heard you talking to Ulfric. Where’s Dardeh?” Roggi interrupted, his tone sharp and impatient.
“He told me to let you know that he’d be fine,” Harald started in, tentatively. “He and Qara…”
“Where. Is. He?” Roggi repeated, slowly, his eyes dark.
Harald swallowed. He dreaded angering Roggi. Harald had grown up hearing the tales of some faceless Inquisitor, tales that said some of the most blood-curdling screams anyone had ever heard had come from his father’s dungeon. Then he’d learned that the Inquisitor was Roggi. He’d always made himself scarce if even a hint of Roggi’s anger started to emerge; it was daunting to behold when it did, in part precisely because it was so infrequent. While Roggi was ordinarily the kindest and most sincerely caring adult Harald had ever known, when his eyes looked like this even Harald wanted to run away.
“He and Qara are on their way to High Hrothgar, Roggi. They’re going to consult with Master Arngeir.” He spoke as rapidly as he could, delivering the message in a single breath so that he could be done with it.
And then he waited, ready to cringe.
It didn’t take long. Roggi had been holding a tankard as he paced, and he suddenly flung it with startling force. The tankard flew across the room, its flight abruptly stopped by the thick stone archway behind Ulfric’s bed. It bounced back and dropped, dented by the stone, wobbling drunkenly across the floor while Harald winced at the sound and held his breath, waiting for the eruption he knew was coming.
“To Oblivion with him!” Roggi shouted, sounding more like an animal than a man. “He knows better! He was sick for months, he can’t use his Voice anymore, and Arngeir is not going to give him a warm welcome. He was barely accepted the first time he took Qara up there to meet them. Damn him!” Roggi’s voice grew louder and harsher as he went, as he paced the room just behind Frina’s chair.
Harald swapped a quick, horrified look with his mother, who shook her head and raised one hand just a bit off her lap in a gesture he recognized. Wait, she was telling him. Just let him blow off some steam. Don’t say anything, just wait.
“I can’t believe the man! He knew I wouldn’t be happy about this. He knew it! And he went anyway. He went behind my back, and left on a fool’s errand, and…”
Frina sighed. “And he what, Roggi? What is it that he did besides try to get some answers for the person who has no choice but to take up the burden he put down? Aren’t you overreacting?” Her voice was quiet but firm, in the solid way it always had been. She was strong and could be fierce herself, but mostly she was the rock on which his father’s kingdom was built, and everyone knew it.
Harald tried not to gasp, feeling his limbs tremble in spite of himself. I can’t believe Mother just said that. I can’t believe she put herself in front of all that anger. What if he goes after her? I don’t know whether I could best him, even as much younger as I am!
“He LEFT ME BEHIND, Frina!” Roggi roared. “He left me behind, the same way he left me behind when he went to Solstheim and I didn’t know whether I’d ever see him again. The way he left me behind when he went to Sovngarde and I thought he’d really died. I’ve told him so many times. It was one of the first things I ever told him! I can put up with him being a hot-headed dragon but I can’t bear being left alone again! I’m done!”
And to Harald’s horror, Roggi wrestled the Bond of Matrimony that he’d worn for twenty years off his hand and slammed it down on the table next to where Frina sat. He turned and began pacing the room again, around and around the elevated platform where Ulfric slept.
Frina shared another quick glance with Harald, but this time he couldn’t tell what meaning it held. She looked at the ring, and picked it up, and turned it over in her hand before placing it back on the table. Then she rose to her feet and came out from the table to face the man she called brother.
“How dare you?” she asked quietly.
Roggi stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her.
“What?”
“I said, how dare you? How dare you, Roggi, take off that ring?”
“I told you,” he said in a growl. “I’m done. I’m done waiting, I’m done worrying, and I am done apologizing for every single breath I take in Ulfric’s presence. I. Am. DONE.”
Frina crossed her arms. Harald wanted to shrink into the very stones of the walls, for he recognized that stance as one every bit as frightening as the one Roggi had used. Even his father the king backed down when Frina set herself in a battle stance the way she was now.
“You used to share a ring like that with my sister, Roggi. You took that one off, too.”
Roggi growled. “You have a lot of nerve, bringing up Briinda.”
“Yes, I do!” Frina said, her volume rising just a bit. “Because you had no choice, taking off that ring! She had no choice! She was taken from us, and I know – I know, no matter what else was going on at the time I know as surely as I know my own name that you would never have abandoned her or taken that ring off unless it was the very end of the world, Roggi! I know it. You know it.”
Roggi made a choked noise, something between an animal’s growl and a sob.
“So why would you take off this ring, and abandon Dardeh? You’ve been together so much longer than you were with Briinda. The two of you were made for each other. I didn’t want to believe that at first, Roggi, but a person might as well try to start a fire with a handful of snow as to deny what the two of you are to each other!”
The room went silent.
Harald held his breath, daring nothing else at all.
Roggi stopped and stared at Frina for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then lowered his chin and brought one hand up to his mouth as if holding back some kind of guttural howl. Even across the room in the dim lighting Harald could see the glint of moisture in Roggi’s eyes.
Roggi never cries. Dardeh does it for both of them.
Finally he spoke, very softly. “Ever since the day he first found me and called me by my name, Frina, I’ve been afraid of being left behind, again, the way I was left behind to mourn Briinda, and our family. He’s… he’s unruly. He’s barely tamed. He’s a dragon. He’s both the strongest and the softest man I’ve ever known and he means so much more to me than anyone else in the world and…” He took a breath – deep and loud, nearly a sob. “And I have been afraid, ever since the day he first called me by my name. I’m afraid he will die and I’ll be left behind. I can’t bear the thought of it.”
“Why would you think he would die now, Roggi? After all the things you two have lived through together, why are you worried now when there’s no danger?”
Roggi turned away from her and spoke quietly. “There’s more danger than there ever was. Because he used to have the power to fight, Frina. Now he’s lost his Voice. He’s trying not to show it but he feels useless. He keeps saying that he has no reason to be alive anymore.” He turned back to her, looking as desolate a man as Harald had ever seen.
“I’m afraid, every time he’s out of my sight. That’s why I was so angry.”
Frina watched him for a moment. Then she sighed, and nodded, and turned back to the table. She picked up Roggi’s ring and walked to where he was, offering it to him.
“And that’s exactly why he needs you. Put it back on, Roggi.”
Roggi nodded, mutely, and wiped a hand roughly across his damp eyes before taking the ring from Frina’s outstretched hand. He slipped the ring back over his finger and sighed, looking at it.
“Sometimes it feels like the heaviest weight in the world.”
Frina nodded. “Sometimes it does.”
He gave her a one-sided grin. “I can imagine.”
Frina laughed. “Yes you can. For whatever it’s worth, Roggi, I absolutely understand why it all happened the way it did. There’s a reason all of us are so fond of you. But don’t give up now. Not now.”
Harald hadn’t wanted to move while the two of them had been shouting at each other. Now, though, he backed out the door, as quietly as he could manage it. He went back through the long corridors and down, down until he found the hot spring his mother had uncovered deep under the castle. He was going to need a long soak while he sorted all of it out, and while he wistfully pondered whether he’d ever have anyone to feel that strongly about.
And then he remembered. I didn’t even tell him to take care of Father.
It was pleasant enough as Qaralana and Dardeh started up the Seven Thousand Steps, but only a few minutes out of Ivarstead a cave bear blocked the path. It nearly caught Qara by surprise, the brown bear against the backdrop of soil and rock; she Shouted the lone word of Fire Breath that she had learned and backed up, trying to get enough room for an attack. Instead, while the bear swatted at the flames, Dardeh rushed up the slope past her and took the bear down, almost instantly, with his scimitars.
“Thanks, Uncle Dar,” she said gratefully as he returned to her side. “I couldn’t pick out where he was in the shadows.”
“I’m glad to have been of some use,” he said, grinning.
“I’m pretty sure I couldn’t take out a bear that fast,” she replied.
They were making decent progress when loud snorts and growls up ahead warned of trouble. When the frost troll stepped out from behind a tree Qara wasted no time before Shouting fire at it, for fire was one of the few things besides sheer physical power and speed that could kill one.
And she almost burned Dardeh. He’d spotted the troll as soon as she had, and sprinted uphill to attack. Again, it was a mere moment or two before the beast was down, but Qara was annoyed.
“Warn me before you run ahead of me, Uncle Dar! I almost burned you!”
He shrugged. “Sorry. It doesn’t really matter anymore. I’m just the hired muscle.”
Qara flinched. I don’t like the sound of this. “That’s not true, and you know it.” Then she grinned. It was hard not to admire how quickly he’d dispatched the troll. “You’re really good hired muscle, though.”
To her relief, he laughed heartily.
She was grateful for his presence once again not long after that. As the overcast changed what had been a pleasant day the temperature here, higher up the mountain, dropped. And that brought out one of Qara’s least favorite enemies: an ice wraith. Fortunately, she spotted it before it spotted her. She dropped back several long strides and up onto a trailside boulder, hoping to get a good vantage for a bowshot before it could attack. Afterward would be soon enough to think about fire.
And once again Dardeh attacked, sprinting past Qara and tearing into the wraith so quickly that she had no time to even think about either loosing an arrow or Shouting. The wraith exploded in a splinter of ice. It was hard to do anything other than admire Dardeh’s speed and strength.
The higher they went, the worse it got. The wind was howling, snow blowing, stinging her face in spite of her warm hood.
I hope it’s warm inside the monastery. I need to think and I can’t do that if I’m half frozen to death.
She kept running around in circles in her mind, even as they fought the cold and another frost troll on the way up the mountain. Delphine and Esbern wanted Paarthurnax dead, and Dardeh – well, Dardeh really hadn’t given an opinion, one way or the other. He’d merely recounted events of the past. But Paarthurnax had helped both of them.
Perhaps he was dead already. Perhaps that was why the dragons were attacking the mortals below once again. But what if he wasn’t dead? What if…
If he’s dead, I’m the only one who can truly kill the rest of the dragons. That means I’m sentenced to a lifetime of dragon-hunting. And if he’s not dead?
She shuddered, and turned to face her uncle. “What do you think Master Arngeir is going to tell us? Is he likely to have changed his mind?”
Dardeh pulled up to a stop beside her, and shook his head. “I don’t really know. I doubt it. But there has to be a reason all this has happened. Me, and now you. All the dragons you, Chip, and Harald have faced, returning after years of quiet. Talos must have a reason.”
Qara nodded and turned back up the path, glad that the howling wind covered her sarcastic snort. It would be beyond rude to scoff at her uncle’s religious beliefs.
Talos. More trouble than he’s worth, and always has been as far as I can tell. Maybe that’s why both Harald and I revere other gods. And Chip’s basically a Daedra worshipper. That’s as far from Talos as you can get, really. I can’t fault Uncle Dar and all the others for their beliefs, but…
As she rounded the path’s final curve and the monastery and its statue of Talos emerged from the snow, she slowed to a walk. She looked up at the likeness of Talos as a man and the serpent beneath his feet skewered on his blade, and thought of Satakal, the Yokudan god of everything and the divinity to which she had always felt most drawn.
Satakal ends one world and brings on the next by shedding his own skin and consuming himself. That’s what Alduin did, as well – devour one world to create the next. But Uncle Dar stopped that process by killing Alduin – just the way Talos is shown killing that serpent.
Isn’t that a good thing? If he hadn’t done it, we’d all be dead. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?
If you’ve killed the god of everything, what does that make you?
She couldn’t help but glance at Dardeh as they approached High Hrothgar and slowly mounted its steps. In a real sense he had stopped time and killed the Nordic version of her god Satakal. And now Dardeh had no more power, other than his prowess with swords. She was the one with the power, now, and not much experience using it. Her mind raced, trying to sort through a puzzle that seemed too intricate for her.
It has to mean something.
I just don’t know what.
It was warmer inside. Or, at least, the wind wasn’t whipping snow into their faces. The massive stone structure seemed to trap the dead, cold air as effectively as her little wooden shack trapped heat and moisture. Dardeh rubbed his hands together and then massaged his face, and Qara did the same as they looked around the grand old monastery for its occupants.
They found all four of the Greybeards in the great meeting hall where, Dardeh whispered to her, they’d held the truce conference and, later, the Moot. Qaralana said nothing. She merely stood in silence and waited for Master Arngeir to rise from his seat and approach, glaring at Dardeh even as he graced her with a slight bow.
“Master Arngeir,” she began, without waiting for an invitation to speak. “The Blades – what is left of them – want me to kill Paarthurnax.”
Arngeir practically growled as he looked at Dardeh. “Again! Now you see why I’ve warned you against them! Bloodthirsty barbarians…”
“You do realize that there’s been a fresh onslaught of dragon attacks, yes?” Dardeh sputtered.
Qara looked at him and shook her head. “Please, Uncle Dar. You wanted me to make up my own mind, yes?”
Dardeh flushed. “Yes, I did. And I’m sorry. This isn’t my decision to make.”
Qara nodded and returned her gaze to Arngeir. “Is it true, what the Blades told me? Was he Alduin’s ally?”
“Yes. But understand – during Alduin’s rule all dragons were his allies. There was simply nothing else that they could be. If not for Paarthurnax, Alduin could not have been overthrown. It was he that first taught men to use the Thu’um.”
Dardeh snorted, and Qara shot him a quick glance. He merely shook his head.
I know why Uncle Dar is shaking his head. There’s something missing in this. The logic is wrong, somehow. I feel as though it’s just out of reach, the same way the Dragonrend Shout was just out of reach until…
She focused hard, for another moment, but still couldn’t connect the thoughts in her mind. So she looked at Arngeir and shook her head as well.
“That may be how it was. None of us were here to see it personally, not even you, Master Arngeir. I know that’s what you’ve been told and what you believe, and that’s fine. But there are others who think Paarthurnax still needs to pay for his crimes.”
Arngeir grumbled as he looked back and forth between Qara and Dardeh. “The same could be said for any of us, could it not? Are you so guiltless as to stand in judgment upon Paarthurnax?” His gaze lingered on Dardeh for a moment as he asked his question; then he returned to Qara. “Listen to your inner Voice before acting. Do not allow the Blades to bully you into doing something you will later regret. After all, repentance is something you deny to Paarthurnax by meting out your so-called justice.”
Qara frowned. She’d been following his reasoning, and maybe even agreeing with it, until his final statement.
Seems to me that Paarthurnax has had at least the last twenty years to repent, if not much, much longer than that. Besides that…
“Nobody is bullying me into anything, Master Arngeir. I merely spoke to them for the sake of knowledge. I haven’t lived their experience, any more than I’ve lived Paarthurnax’s. I haven’t decided what to do. All I know is that dragons are attacking the world I love.”
Arngeir nodded after looking at Dardeh with an almost triumphant sneer. “You’re learning, Dragonborn,” he told Qara. “Doing nothing can be the wisest choice, although strangely often the most difficult.”
This time Dardeh did snort out loud, and clear his throat, and Qara knew it was time for them to leave before he got himself into trouble. After all, he wasn’t the Dragonborn any longer, she was. And while they suffered his presence because of her, she felt certain that the Greybeards wouldn’t hesitate to Shout him down the mountainside if he provoked them to it.
“Come on, Uncle Dar,” she said, grasping one of the plates covering his arm as tightly as she could. “I want to talk to Paarthurnax, and get his side of the story, before we do anything else.”
And with that, she left both Arngeir and Dardeh sputtering by pulling her uncle firmly out the door and then out into the courtyard of High Hrothgar.