The Return

"My Thane, I have something for you," Lydia announced upon opening the front door. I gestured for her to come in and take a seat by the fire. She had moved out two days after our wedding, stating that she would like to give us the privacy we apparently required as a married couple. Neither Serana or I actually wanted her to go but, while she appreciated our thoughts, her mind was made up. She had already purchased a small house just up the road so was still close enough to drop by every day.

"What is it?"

"I have a wedding gift for yourself and Serana." She opened the small pack at her hip and handed over a folder piece of parchment. "I think you'll like it."

I unfolded the parchment and read over the words. To say I was shocked was an understatement. I could only lean over and kiss her cheek once I was done. "Thank you," I said quietly, barely keeping my emotions in check, "But how did you manage this?"

"The farm is still there, my Thane. As abandoned as the day you left, but it's still there. I approached the Count and explained who I was, who you were and why I wanted to purchase the land again. Once the Count learned that the Dragonborn himself was born on that farm, he was very agreeable to allowing me to purchase the farmland at a very reasonable price."

"How reasonable?" I wondered.

"Anyone else would have thought he was simply trying to get rid of it."

"I think I know where I'm going next," I stated quietly.

"Strange place for a honeymoon, my Thane," Lydia stated with a chuckle.

"It would be nice to see my old home, at least for a couple of days. In how much disrepair is the house?"

"It wasn't in a bad state but it looked like someone had attempted to burgle the place. Sorry…"

"And the grave?"

"I made sure to check as I knew you'd ask. The headstone still stands. I tended to it as much as I could."

I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Thank you," I said quietly as I got to my feet. "I'd better go speak with the wife."

"You like saying that, don't you?"

I couldn't help the grin. It was pathetic how hopelessly in love with her I really was. The fact she was now my wife? I'd never be a walkover, I knew what I wanted in life, but I'd also do nearly everything to make her happy. "Absolutely. Every day is better than the last."

I had to shield my eyes as I wandered outside, the sun high in the sky. Around the back of our home, Serana was tending her garden. She'd done a marvellous job. All the colours of the rainbow. I knew it was exactly what she wanted. Nothing like the courtyard she had once tended at the castle with her mother, but an adequate replacement. She stood up, her back still to me, wiping her brow as she appeared to be thinking about something. She cried out when I wrapped my arms around her. "You've got to stop doing that!"

"I like to surprise you."

"One day you're going to find an elbow in your stomach."

"Do you really think anyone else would hold you in such a way?"

She was silent before she turned around to meet my eyes, laying a soft kiss on my lips. "Probably not. Who would dare touch the wife of the Dragonborn?"

"I'm not that scary."

"It's respect, not fear," she stated with a smile. "So, what brings you to my garden today?"

"This," I replied, handing her the parchment.

I watched her eyes move, taking the words in. She then looked up in surprise. "Is that the farm?" I nodded. "It's now yours?" I nodded again. "So what do you want to do?"

"I want to go. Not forever as this place, Whiterun and Skyrim, these are my homes now. But Cyrodil and the farm was… once upon a time."

"When?"

"As soon as possible. It will take some planning. We'll need supplies as it will be a long journey. But the weather should be fine for long enough that we can get there and back."

We departed three days later. I wasn't surprised that Lydia offered to join us and I was happy to have her along. I think we were all surprised when Aela offered to come along as well. Lydia and Serana both knew Aela and I had a relationship before, and though not as close as we had once been, she was still a good friend. So I didn't even have to ask, Serana and Lydia both happy to have a fourth member along.

I remembered the route well from my journey into Skyrim months ago. Or I think it was months. Was it now over a year? I don't remember the date I depart Cyrodil as it wasn't that important. I know a significant amount of time had passed since the day I'd crossed the border though I wasn't going to sit there and attempt to count each day. It would be impossible.

Besides, the only days that really mattered are those from the day I married Serana. Yes, yes, I know, pathetic, but apart from being the Dragonborn, and the Harbinger, I didn't really care about anything else. I knew what was important to me.

We crossed the border within the day, far quicker than I thought we would. Despite the good weather we had leaving Whiterun, we hit deep snow in the Jerall Mountains that separated Cyrodil and Skyrim, but we were prepared, each of us layered in thick fur coats and, once the sky dipped over the horizon, we had already made camp, building a large fire and ensuring our two tents were set up and, most importantly, placed in a way that would ensure a dry night.

There was plenty of laughter as we gathered around the fire, enjoying a simple but hearty meal before we consumed a few bottles of mead. There was plenty of light-hearted ribbing of myself and Serana, particularly from Aela, jokingly expressing her jealousy at the fact I was now a married man. Poor Lydia was left blushing, I was left open-mouthed, as after a few drinks, Serana and Aela decided to share at least one or two private details and started to compare. I laughed at both of them the next morning as memories surfaced and they were left suitably embarrassed.

Bruma was our first stop in Cyrodil, explaining to all three that this was the only Nordic city within Cyrodil. We wandered the city and found plenty of reminders of home, buildings in similar style and the fact snow covered the ground and it was bitterly cold. The people were also reminders, the language, accent and their general appearance suggesting most of the people were Nords or at least had plenty of Nord blood in their ancestry. We stopped by a large statue, labelled as the 'Saviour of Bruma'. We noticed one or two worshippers and we asked a few questions, finding out that this man was also known as the 'Hero of Kvatch' and ended his life known as the 'Champion of Cyrodil.' It wasn't surprising to learn he was buried in the Imperial City and that pilgrims from across Cyrodil would pay their respects on the very date Mehrunes Dagon was defeated. So impressed with all the stories, no doubt embellished by the passage of time, that I almost suggested we should do the same thing.

The inn that night was another reminder of home. Once they found out who I was, a slip of the tongue on the part of Lydia, I found myself not having to buy a drink the rest of the night. I didn't actually mind, although I was inundated with questions about what was happening in Skyrim, in particular the civil war. As Nords, there was plenty of sympathy towards the Stormcloak cause, understanding the reasons at the heart of the rebellion, but very few supported them over the Empire.

The Orange Road beckoned the next day. I had only travelled the road once, after leaving Chorrol for the last time, but my three companions marvelled at the beauty of the land. It took all day to ride to Chorrol, reaching the city gates while the sun was still in the sky, so we agreed that we would make for the farm immediately.

I'll admit seeing the old place stirred plenty of long dormant emotions. The gate and fence surrounding the property was still in place though plenty of the wood was already rotting away, some having even disappeared completely. I assumed that was probably stolen. The land was overgrown with weeds with little remnants of the last crop I had planted in evidence. The old farmhouse still stood though the front door was open. I remember locking the door, cursory examination showing it had been kicked in. There would have been nothing to steal, though that didn't stop whoever broke in from trashing the place.

My three companions followed me outside and around the back. A large oak tree sat out back. I remember climbing it often as a child and falling from it more than once, amazingly never breaking a bone, mother always making me feel better before I scampered up it once again. She would often sit with me when we were not learning or working, enjoying the shade and she would read a book to me at times, tales of hero warriors and knights, of saviours and heroes. She knew that is what I wanted to be when I grew up. 'Like father,' I had always said.

Mother was buried under the tree. The first thing I did was tend to the grave, removing any weeds and rubbish that disturbed the plot. The headstone was standing but lay at a different angle to when I had first placed it in the soil. I moved it so it stood straight, ensuring it would stay in place by surrounding it with stones. I then kneeled in front of the grave, lowered my head and closed my eyes and prayed that she was okay, wherever she was.

"I hope I made you proud," I whispered.

I felt a hand grab my own. "You've done more than that, Ragnar Dragonborn. You've made your people proud."

"I spent two winters watching her die, absolutely helpless. I did everything I could. Asked healers. Mages. Travellers that passed by, seeing if they knew anyone or anything that could help. They all said nothing could be done."

"You blame yourself?"

I shrugged. "No. I guess not. I did everything I could. But out of everyone I couldn't save, I couldn't save her. It's…" I sighed. "It's life, I suppose. I've learned you can't save everyone. But I still wish I could."

Serana simply hugged me. I didn't cry. I had already cried for her, long ago. But seeing the farmhouse, the land and the headstone, they were reminders of a simpler time. I carried fond memories, and I was happy growing up here, just mother and I. She was a great woman and I missed her still. Now that I was married, it saddened me that Serana would never meet her. But mother also wouldn't know of what became of me. I did wonder if she ever knew my fate?

We cleaned up the house as best we could before nightfall. The next day, we headed into Chorrol and straight for the Fighters Guild, wondering if the old faces were still there. When I walked through the doors, there were shouts of recognition immediately, my right hand and shoulders soon stinging as old friends introduced themselves. Like everywhere else, they enquired as to what I was up to and were not surprised after I'd explained everything that had happened to me once I'd left Cyrodil. I introduced my companions and they definitely liked Aela and her stories, with plenty of offers for her to stay in Chorrol for an extended length of time as a member of the guild. I think she seriously considered it before she said we would only be in the region for a short time.

The next job was to fix the farm as the house needed near enough complete rebuilding while the land used for crops needed plenty of care. The shops in and around Chorrol would have loved the amount of business I provided as I bought all sorts of building materials, including hiring a horse and cart to take it all back. At the same time, I placed an advert on all the noticeboards around town, and also sent messages for other cities, the idea being to rent the farm. I didn't need the income but the land was still useful and it could provide someone with a home and a job. It took some hard, near back breaking work at times, but after only a week or so, the house was certainly looking in far better condition while we had also started ploughing the land in preparation for the planting of crops.

It wasn't long before interest was shown in renting and running the farm, eventually choosing an ex-soldier and his young family who were originally from much further south. By the time he had arrived back with his family, the house was as built as we could manage and the first set of crops had been planted. We had already agreed price regarding his rent so I took the ex-soldier to Chorrol and introduced him around town, explaining who he was and ensuring he knew the right locals.

All good things must come to an end. I'd enjoyed being back on the farm, Serana stating it was the first time she'd seen me relax completely, despite the fact I actually spent a lot of the time hard at work. But I had nothing to worry or stress about. No dragons. No vampires. No war. We discussed the fact you would never have thought a civil war brewed over the border and we saw no real presence of the Thalmor, though I knew that meant little in the grand scheme of things. They were definitely around Cyrodil as well.

Losing track of days, I could only guess how long we'd been at the farm, not that it really mattered. But it was time to head back to Skyrim, Aela and Lydia in particular missing home. We left on a crisp morning, the sun rising over the forest and mountains, dew still thick on the ground, a fine mist spreading across the fields. The four of us, mounted up, spent a moment at the gates, taking in the sheer beauty. At that moment, I believed all four of us knew the Gods were providing such a spectacle. With a last goodbye to the ex-soldier turned farmer, we headed back to Skyrim.

We rode hard until reaching the road leading north and south. It was there at Lydia called us to a halt.

"My Thane, I have a suggestion."

"I'm all ears. What is it?"

"I have no idea when if ever we'll come back to Cyrodil." She gestured towards the sign. "This road leads to the Imperial City. I remember you said that you've never been. Why don't we take this opportunity and head there now?"

I looked at Serana and Aela. "What do you think?"

"I've never been there either," Serana replied.

"No better time to do it," Aela added.

"Very well," I stated, turning back towards Lydia, "Since you've been there before, you can lead the way and be our guide."

Lydia just grinned. "Trust me, my Thane. You're in for a real treat."

As the forest cleared and we came to a stop on a rise, the four of us gazed across the Imperial City. I had no idea such large places existed! It spread as far as the eye could see. I wondered how many people lived there, what they all did, how they survived from day to day. However, there was no missing the enormous dragon statue that appeared to be situated in the middle of the city.

"We have to go there," I stated quietly.

"Of course, my Thane," Lydia replied, understanding why.

We left our horses in one of the many stables surrounding the cities and Lydia led the four of us into the city. I remember thinking Solitude was busy. No city in Skyrim compared at all to the crowds of the Imperial City. The noise was almost deafening. But the city felt alive. Almost a living entity. As we wandered along, Lydia pointed out one or two features, particularly of the scars the city still suffered after the Great War.

The Temple District was far quieter and peaceful and I think we all relaxed after making our way through the crowds. The statue towered over ever building as we approached, needing to crane out necks the closer we got. I had read a little about the statue, the fact Martin Septim sacrificed himself to end the Oblivion Crisis, the fact the statue was an avatar of Akatosh himself, the battle that took place which ended with the defeat of Mehrunes Dagon. What I did find surprising is that temple that had once surrounded the statue had disappeared. Instead, the dragon state itself appeared to be a place of pilgrimage and worship, the base of the statue surrounded by flowers and other offerings.

I did the only thing I could think of to do. I handed my sheathed sword and shield to Lydia and approached the base of the statue, got down on my knees and gave thanks. I wasn't surprised that Serana and Aela joined me. Whether it was from their own belief or not, I didn't question them. I just appreciated the gesture.

"This means a lot to you, doesn't it?" Serana asked me afterwards.

"He was the last Dragonborn. Well, that we know of anyway. And the last Septim Emperor. The last of a dynasty that strode across Tamriel, bringing all of us under one banner. He may never have been crowned, but I don't think I'm wrong to consider him one in all but name."

"Plus you both saved the we world. Not a bad thing to have in common," Aela added.

"Where's the Champion buried?" I asked Lydia.

She just smiled again. "Thought you'd ask. I know the way."

Unsurprisingly, the Mausoleum of the Champion was situated only a short walk away. Much like the statue, it was clearly a shrine visited often by citizens of the city and pilgrims from across Cyrodil if not all of Tamriel. Well, maybe not all of Tamriel but certainly the majority of the Empire. The Mausoleum was guarded by a pair of Legion soldiers. Inside, braziers were lit to provide plenty of light, highlighting the numerous treasures on display. A stone coffin lay in the middle of the room, the artwork cut into it exemplary in its design. My interpretation was of the battles the Champion had fought in. Kvatch. Bruma. The Imperial City. And on the plane of Oblivion itself.

Stories of the Champion had spread far and wide, no doubt changing over time but there was always an element of truth to stories spoken of over two hundred years. Apparently he had been a member of the Blades, The Fighters Guild and was a close friend of Martin Septim himself, a friendship forged in the battles against the demon hordes. His was a name that had certainly passed into myth and legend. The most bizarre rumour of the Champion is that he had actually been a prisoner released by Emperor Uriel Septim on the day of his death. I found that rather unbelievable myself, though eerily familiar at the same time.

We departed the Imperial City the next morning after finding an inn to rest our heads for the night. Knowing there was no real rush to get back to Skyrim, we took our time as we rode along the Silver Road, agreeing that we would top for the night in Bruma before we trekked across the Jerall Mountains. Once again we had to camp on route as the roads continued to be rather treacherous, so we continued to be careful.

I'm not sure when we crossed the border but I think we all knew we were back in Skyrim, a sense of relief and of feeling at home once again. It was rather late by the time we reached the outskirts of Falkreath so agreed to ride hard and fast for Whiterun, all four of us eager to sleep in our own beds for the first time in weeks.

Serana was particularly desperate for a bit of privacy. Not to say I wasn't, but once we'd stabled our horses, bid Lydia and Aela farewell and closed the door of Breezehome behind us, she practically dragged me upstairs. I'll admit it had been a while for us as we'd spent nearly every night sleeping in the same room as Aela and Lydia. The weeks of farm and building work had certainly given both of us a darker skin colour, where our skin had been exposed to the sun, at least. Serana mentioned her thoughts that I was even stronger than before, running her hands over my arms, chest and back while certain parts of her body were certainly… firmer than before.

We slept like logs and it was only the banging on our front door that eventually caused me to wake from my slumber. Serana murmured that I should go answer it. I threw on a thin shirt and pants and headed downstairs, making sure I grabbed a dagger, holding it behind me back. I didn't think anyone would knock on the door then attack me when opening, but it pays to be careful.

Waiting for me were a pair of two guards. The usual greeting, an arm across the chest and a slight bow. "Dragonborn."

I placed the dagger in the band of my pants. "How can I help?"

"The Jarl is requesting your presence. Immediately." The guard paused. "If possible," he added, trying to be friendly.

"Can I get changed at least?"

"Of course."

I offered for them to come in, but they said they'd be more comfortable waiting outside. I closed the door and rushed upstairs, Serana now wide awake as I quickly dressed myself.

"What's going on?"

"The Jarl has asked for me. Must be important."

"What for?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. But we've been gone for weeks so I have no idea what's been going on, if there isn't some new crisis I don't know about."

"What does your gut tell you?"

I stood up and searched for my sword. "The Jarl usually only sends for me when he has a problem."

"Any idea what it could be about?"

I shrugged. "I can take a guess. I only hope it isn't that."

I kissed her before I exited, the two guards flanking me as we walked up to Dragonsreach. "Can you tell me what this is all about?"

"No. The Jarl only learned of your return late last night. He wanted you summoned then and there but Irileth convinced him to at least wait until morning."

"I should thank Irileth for allowing me some sleep."

They escorted me as far as the doors to Dragonsreach. I entered the great hall to find it practically deserted. Irileth was waiting for me and directed me upstairs, walking alongside me as I bounded up the stairs. The Jarl was at the large table, the map of Skyrim held in place by a pair of daggers. He looked up and I noticed the concern on his face.

"Good to see you again, Ragnar," he stated as we greeted each other as warriors.

"You too, my Jarl."

"I understand you've only just returned from your travels. Where did you go?"

"Cyrodil, sir. I visited the old farm on which I was born, spent some time fixing it up, then stopped by the Imperial City on the way home."

"Ah, to see the statue?"

"Yes. And the Mausoleum as well. Of the Champion, that is."

"I almost have to apologise for dragging you back into the concerns of Whiterun but I need your help. I need the help of the Dragonborn."

"What do you need, sir? As I've often said, my sword is yours."

He handed me a letter. I noticed the seal of Windhelm on it. "Read this. It will explain everything."

My stomach dropped as I read each word. The intention was clear. I handed the letter back. "It reads like an ultimatum, sir."

He nodded. "That it does. We have been in communication since the day you returned after defeating Alduin. I've been wondering how long it would take for Ulfric to reach this point."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Can you go to Windhelm as my representative and see if you can make Ulfric see reason?"

"What makes you think he'll listen to me?"

He shrugged. "You're the Dragonborn. You've defeated Alduin and saved the world. I'm sure that should buy you an element of respect, at the very least. I will provide you with two things. One, I will write a final letter, stating I will not give in to his demands. However, I will also provide you with an axe, one from personal armoury, which you will give to Ulfric. If he keeps the axe, then we are at peace. If not…"

"We're at war," I finished.

The Jarl leaned over the desk and sighed. "I knew it would eventually come to this. I can only hope Ulfric will see sense. We are neutral. There are no Legion soldiers here. An attack on us will only force us into the arms of the Legion and will cause anger across the rest of Skyrim in regards to what will be an unprovoked attack." He looked me in the eyes. "Can you do this for me, Ragnar?"

"Of course, my Jarl."

A thin smile. "You'll have my thanks once again."

"This is my home too, sir. I'll head home and prepare for the journey."

"And tell your wife."

I scratched my beard. "Yes. I'm not sure how she'll react. I think we both thought we'd have at least some peace before the next crisis." I shrugged. "Oh well…"

"I'll get busy writing and have it and the axe delivered as soon as possible. I can only wish you good luck."

"What do you think his response will be?"

He looked at the map, his eyes clearly taking into account troop positions, known movements, the borders of his Hold and how far Windhelm was from Whiterun. He looked up and met my eyes. He muttered only one word.

"War."