AN: I have a bunch of things I've been planning/working on for my Dragonborn and they're all probably going to be published out of order. Oops. As always, reviews are appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters (I mean, Oslaine's mine, but the concept of the Dragonborn belongs to Bethesda). Also, spoilers for the main questline and the Companions questline.

"What are you doing up?"

It was a simple enough question, Oslaine supposed. She could have answered any number of ways. She could have said that she'd had a nightmare. In truth, her greatest nightmare was coming to an end, and she'd been able to sleep without restless visions since she had cured herself of the beast blood at the Tomb of Ysgramor.

She could have told him that she was nervous about what the end of her journey as Dragonborn meant. She could have mentioned that the past year had been the most exciting she'd ever experienced in her otherwise dull life. After all, that was true. She'd been swept up into a world she hadn't expected at Helgen, and ended up discovering that she was a hero of Nord prophecy, despite being a Bosmer herself. As of right now, Odahviing was trapped in Dragonsreach, and she was preparing for what was supposed to be her final fight with Alduin. If she survived, and she had to, this would all be a strange, dream-like memory.

She could have just said that her duties as Harbinger had been weighing on her mind. To be fair, that was somewhat related to her problems. It was her entanglement with the Companions that had her up, but it wasn't that she was worried about guiding them. She knew that, if all else failed, she had already given Aela the role of deputy Harbinger in her absence and told the Nord woman to take over the role permanently if she failed to return within the month.

In the most honest version of the truth, all of these played a small part in why Oslaine was sitting in a chair on the back lawn of Jorrvaskr with her head in her hands. None of them, however, were the whole reason, or even the most important part.

Oslaine took a deep breath before she finally answered her husband truthfully. "Elves don't go to Sovngarde."

Silence pervaded the space behind her as Farkas took in her words. Slowly, the thud of his feet on the stone patio approached her, and, before she knew it, he had swung one of the other chairs around so that he could sit facing her. His figure was barely visible for all the tears stuck in her eyes. "You're worried about the fight."

"Not really," she said. It wasn't a lie. She'd killed several dragons, each one more deadly than the last, and, with the help of the Greybeards, she was as ready as she could possibly have been to face Alduin. "Not any more than I should be, at least."

"But you're still worried."

"A little, I guess." She wiped some of the tears from her eye with the heel of her hand, but that seemingly only served to loosen them and let them run freely down her face. "If I die-"

"You won't," he interrupted, frowning.

"If I die," she repeated, "I want you to promise me something."

He didn't respond verbally this time, only offering a grunt and a slight nod.

She tried to steady her voice as she looked him in the eyes. "I want you to move on with your life. Find bigger and better jobs, maybe even work with the Jarl and become Thane of Whiterun. You could do it, you know. I want you to get married again. Find a sweet little Nord woman, someone who won't die in battle. Maybe a barmaid or something. Marry her, and have cute, chubby little babies that call you Papa and throw up on your shirts when you burp them. Do that for me."

His brow knitted together as he shook his head. "I can't."

"Please." She forced a smile. "Just promise me that."

"I can stay with the Companions," Farkas sighed as he leaned forward to her, "but I'll never remarry. I don't care what happens. I'm yours until the Divines take me, and I'll be yours again after it all." His hand folded over hers as he tried to comfort her.

The tears didn't stop pouring from Oslaine's eyes as she stared at him. "And what if I don't die?"

"Then I'll be a very happy man."

"That's not what I mean." She did her best to compose her thoughts while his thumb glossed back and forth over the back of her hand. "Farkas, how much do you know about elves?"

"Well," he responded slowly, "I know things you've told me. Like how there's the Green Pact, which you don't take part in, and that they invented the bow. And I know that you don't get sick easy, even without the beast blood."

"Do you know how long we live?"

Farkas' thumb slowed as he heard her question. His palm squeezed around her hand. "You think you're going to outlive me."

"If I don't die in battle," she said, trying to keep her tears from worsening, "I'll live to be two hundred and fifty, give or take. Maybe I have two hundred years left, at least. And you've got, what? Fifty?" Her voice was hitching as she thought about it. "That gives me a hundred and fifty years without you. And then you'll go to Sovngarde, and I won't be able to follow." She tried to ignore the lump rising in her throat. "Farkas, I can't do that."

A look of fear and incredulity swept over his features as he looked at her. "Do you want to die in battle?"

"No, but I..." She couldn't find a good way to end that sentence. It certainly wasn't that she planned on being killed by sword, hers or otherwise. Dying held no appeal. But a life without him seemed terrifying, and drawing his life out was impractical, if not impossible. Just the thought of it made her feel sick to her stomach. And an afterlife without him? Gods, that was even worse.

Her thoughts were cut short when Farkas raised her hand to his face and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"Oslaine," he said as he drew his lips away, "if you think for one second that I won't find you again once we're dead, then you have got another think coming. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, that can keep me from you. Not Alduin, not death, not even the doors to Shor's Hall."

"Farkas, I-"

"Nothing."

From the look on his face, he meant every word that he said. It would not do to argue with him now, not when she was leaving so soon. She wanted to go to sleep, and she wanted to hold him, if only because a small part of her worried it would be the last time.

"I can go with you, if you want."

"You'll do no such thing," she stated as firmly as she could manage. "The dragon will only carry one." It almost looked like he was going to argue, so she stood up, pulling on his hand as she moved. "Come on. Let's go to bed."

When they returned to their quarters, she slept in his arms, as she always did. His grip on her was tighter than normal, as though she might disappear in her sleep and he might lose her forever, but she didn't mind. For a short while, she could ignore her life and what lay ahead, all else would cease to matter, and they could sleep soundly until morning and the call of dragons separated them.