A/N: Not sure if there will be a chapter after this, so I'm marking the story as complete for now! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and stuck around despite such a long delay in uploads. Keep an eye out for the subsequent tales of Aneira. She's not done yet!

She'd made the responsible decision to sleep at the inn the night before, parting with Hadvar's family when the sky was entirely dark. Thankfully, the establishment had been almost completely silent with the exception of the crackling hearth and Embry's occasional drunken declaration. Sven, by Stendarr's mercy, hadn't been given any requests and was languishing comfortably with a bottle of ale in the corner, only speaking as she came in to remind her that she was "nothing but trouble."

She heartily agreed with that sentiment, given the state in which she'd left the first person she'd attempted to help since reaching Skyrim.

Sleep itself had come remarkably easily considering the turmoil inside her heart, and she was certain she'd left more than a few tearstains on the pillow before she'd slipped into dreamland. Her actual slumber was far from peaceful, littered with fragments of every new memory, good and bad, currently running through her burdened head; Farkas exploding into a giant wolf, Ysolda and Carlotta smiling at her easily offered help, Vilkas's determined face between their clashing swords as they danced around the practice field, the Greybeard's stern, yet gentle instruction that made their faces morph into her father's, egging her on in the blistering cold of High Hrothgar. The days splintered and blended, showing the frost troll that had thrown her onto her side as it bellowed above her, raising its fists in domination before she managed to get a fireball into its face; the pack of wolves that set themselves upon she and Hadvar; the giant as it fell behind Aela with Aneira's ancient arrows in its neck and shoulder; Hadvar waiting in the village, wandering aimlessly while she leapt over mountains and crags like a madwoman on a mission; Hadvar's never-ending plea when she broke away and left him behind again; Hadvar's smile when she came back as if she were the sweetest sight he'd ever seen.

Hadvar, I'm sorry. Hadvar, Hadvar-

She'd come awake with a soft gasp, high and pitiful before immediately burying her head in the old pillow, stifling her breath until her throat loosened and she could inhale evenly again. Aneira turned onto her back, watching the blackness of the sky through the thin cracks in her room and noting that she'd only slept a short while. Her eyes drifted shut again without her accord, and she was pulled back into the dream world where everything was growing more twisted and tangled until it could never be examined alone again.

Her thoughts apparently weren't turbulent enough, because next she saw that dragon outside of Ivarstead soaring past her in a dark tempest of frost and dirt. She was on her back on the mountain, struggling desperately to get onto her feet again before the creature landed almost directly above her. It glared down with its piercing blue eyes that looked so much like Vilkas's disparaging scowl that she squirmed at the silent judgment. The enormous creature bared down on her, tilting its head in what looked awfully like contemplation, like true unclouded thought, which was the opposite of what she wanted the murderous, allegedly bestial monster to do. Aneira flinched into the ground, unable to look away from that disconcerting gaze that communicated intelligence, that offered a strange, unwanted kinship across the field of mortal combat. They hung suspended in that moment as the world tilted, leaving her disoriented and weightless until she finally stabbed her sword into the creature's snout, time rushing back to full speed in a jolt as the memory melted away and the dusty wooden roof of the inn was all that lay overhead. The sky shone milky blue through those same cracks now, shedding the slightest bit of light through the ceiling.

Aneira sat up quickly, palms and fingertips digging into the straw mattress and nearly ripping through the threadbare sheet in her aggravation. Kicking the blanket aside, she dressed hurriedly, throwing on her scaled armor as quickly as she could in the limited privacy of the inn.

Breakfast was consumed efficiently and quickly, her porridge and water going down tastelessly until she could set out for Whiterun again with a reasonable degree of energy.

Breath and focus. Breath and focus.

Hadvar's appearance at the door to Alvor's house effectively curtailed her ability to follow the Greybeard's teachings.

He'd had a rough night; that much was obvious. The circles under his eyes weren't so prominent to be worrisome, but they were definitely notable. His face was drawn, a poor attempt at stoicism as they stood before his family at the door. Dorthe broke the silence by dashing into his leg, holding her older cousin tightly and pitifully saying how much she would miss him. He'd patted her on the head, accepting a quick hug from Sigrid and a gruff slap on the shoulder from Alvor before they had set off for the bridge together. The smith had been made aware of their circumstances simply from the reserved and quiet manner of his nephew and houseguest after their walk. Alvor had spoken to her lowly at one point while they prepared for dinner, laying a hand on her arm and quietly noting that it took a decent person to accept their duty when it went against what they had hoped for. Aneira hadn't responded, tempted for a brief moment to shrug the smith away and ask him if he'd ever given anything up for a predestined duty he'd had no choice in, but she'd bit her tongue and reminded herself that she was not such a petty person.

Aneira was thoroughly aware of the stares that followed them from the small family until they were beyond the view of the village, heading steadily down the path toward the waterfall that fed the plains.

She turned to take it in one more time, watching the white mist rise away from the powerful current as it crashed down onto the rocks below. She knew the stones, though large and still durable, had become incredibly worn from years of relentless pounding, from years of standing against the ceaseless current until their original shape and structure had been lost to the tide.

Hadvar's hand was abruptly on her arm, fingers resting at her left bicep to draw her attention away from the river. She stumbled to a halt, blinking over at him in surprise for a moment before schooling her features again. He gazed back for a moment, himself startled at her reaction as they stood silently along the path. The soldier seemed to struggle with something, lips twitching as the words were caught between his teeth.

Aneira sighed, pressing her lips tight as she exhaled through her nose. She didn't move forward out of his touch, tilting her head to stare at him and grant him the time he needed to gather his thoughts.

"You said you were heading to Ustengrave," he began slowly, and she didn't look away him. Not yet.

"Yes."

"That's just outside Solitude," he added, and she bit her lip, knowing the direction of his thoughts quite easily.

"I know," she agreed quietly. "It's in the mountains to the east."

The silence solidified around them as she turned to head down the steep hill and onto the plains. It wasn't until they were passing the first of the farms that dotted Whiterun's capitol that Hadvar finally pushed out the rest of what he wanted to say.

"Then why shouldn't we head there together?"

Aneira saw Severio Pelagia locking up before heading into his fields, and she gave him a wave and a nod while Hadvar gazed at her expectantly. She bit her lip out of his view, hating how logical that option sounded and how weak her response would sound.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said softly, turning her gaze to her right to stare at the looming fortress of Dragonsreach.

"Why?"

She winced uncomfortably at the unmitigated hurt in his voice.

"Because the longer we drag this out, the worse it's going to be." She reached up, tugging the flagging straps of her satchel higher onto her shoulder. "The most painless way to go our separate ways is with a clean break." Her eyes slid to his in a sideways gaze. "It already hurts enough. Do you really want to spend those miles like this?"

Hadvar grimaced, his turn to move away from her gaze and look out across the plains.

"Being alone doesn't sound much better."

Aneira matched his expression. "Rip the dressing off all in one go. That's how you're meant to deal with pain."

Hadvar turned back to her, mouth twisted in pain again.

"That's what you consider us, now? A wound?"

"You know that's not what I meant-" Aneira tried to interject.

"Just something else for you to scrub out and heal with your hands until there's no trace of it left?" His voice was hard, but it cracked enough for her to hold back her own anger at his deliberate antagonism.

"Don't try to do this," Aneira replied sadly, turning back to the path as the turn toward and stables approached. "Don't try to pick a fight with me. You're angry, and hurt, as am I. Trying to start a fight won't make this any easier. It's just going to make us both even more unhappy that we yelled at each other the last time we saw each other."

She thought Hadvar gave a small sigh then, but he said nothing else. The silence was enough, and she heard the cold, wary part of her demand she leave it that way. Give no more room to cause each other pain. But the compassionate part, the part that, indeed, her father had said was what made her a healer, was urging her to balm the sting, even if only a little.

Tilting her head to look at him slightly, she let go of the grip she had on her satchel to reach across the distance between them and offer him her hand.

He gave no hesitation, no petty glare or spiteful refusal. Hadvar clasped her hand as readily as she had offered it, and her throat closed in grief.

They stopped a short distance before the Khajiit caravan, next to a large patch of purple mountain flowers. Aneira turned to face him, reaching out in unison to join their empty hands.

She looked at him, really looked at him as she had been avoiding since the night before. His eyes were still the same vibrant blue, though laden with a sadness that had not been there when they'd met. Hadvar's hair swayed lightly in the gentle breeze, and Aneira pressed her lips together firmly as she took in how beautiful her copper haired Nord was.

He stepped closer, releasing her hand and bending down carefully, his face a few inches from her side. Perplexed, she backed away to the side until he rose again, a perfect bloom clutched gingerly in his large hand. Aneira felt her throat clench spastically, and forced herself to meet his eyes again.

Hadvar held out the purple blossom to her, waiting until she took it before resting the now empty fingers against her cheek.

"I'll see you again, someday." he said mournfully, eyes roaming over her face like he was trying to memorize every feature from that one last look.

Aneira's smile waivered, and a few tears made valiant efforts to break from her eyes.

"I'm sure of it," she answered.

They brought each other into the circle of their arms, gripping fiercely for a few moments. Aneira felt the warm of him against her, and pressed her lips to his cheek.

Hadvar brought his own hands to her cheeks, tilting her away just far enough to kiss her one more time. It was fleeting; sweet and chaste. He pulled away again in the next moment, and their hands fell away from each other.

"Goodbye, sweet priestess," Hadvar gave a small nod, moving back toward the main road. His eyes still glittered.

Aneira smiled, gathering herself together again with a shaky inhale.

"Goodbye, my soldier."

The man turned away from her then, and walked deliberately down the hill. Aneira watched him walk away for a short while, only turning to head into the city once he'd reached the path. None of her tears managed to escape, even when she entered the tall gates alone.