Hey all, this is it :) Less of a delay this time, because yay Library internetz! I hope you all enjoyed the show. Feels weird for me to finish something with so few chapters.

Also, if any of you are into Naruto, I've posted a fun little fic over there, too. Hope to see you there! :)

To the non-PM crew:

We know: yeah, my internet hates life. Especially my life. And thank you :)

Much love and many thanks to you all you awesome readers.

And now,

Onward.

-)

There are times when I'm right, and I hate that I'm right. The next few months at Jorrvaskr were one such time.

I had been right about this new Morwyn being here to stay. I was no longer quiet, poised, elfish Morwyn. I was down and dirty in the trenches with the rest of them, telling bawdy jokes in the Bannered Mare with Torvar, going toe-to-toe with Farkas in the yard, barking back at Njada when she snapped at me. Athis couldn't make heads or tails of me anymore, even when we made the trek to Azura's Shrine for the Old Life Festival. We didn't have the same unspoken similarities. Sure, we were Dark Elves raised in Morrowind, not Vvardenfel, and loved to crack jokes about the Ashlanders, and sure, we were both talented swordsmen who weren't above casting spells, too, but there was no longer the unspoken "I know what you've been through" undertone anymore. This was different, uneasy. Like Athis didn't quite know what to say to me anymore, I was too much like Aela, or Farkas, or Vilkas.

Oi, Vilkas… I had been right about the shift in the balance of power between us, as well. Something had just… I don't know, fallen in the rift created by Sovngarde, I guess. I came back to Nirn changed, and that's the long and short of it. But it's what changed about me… that's what I can't understand. I feel like this new woman is who I'm supposed to be—who I would have been, if not for my sisters and my mother and their power-hungry plotting. I guess it took staring down the World-Eater to tell me that. It's been a long time since I could look my reflection in the eye, but I'm learning. I'm getting better at being who I want to be, not what others want me to be, or expect me to be. and I wish I could have found this courage to do it sooner.

I only wish that this new Tiberia Morwyn got along with the wolfman. Every time we were together, something else would break off from us, fall into the rift that Sovngarde had created in me. First it was the easy laughter and dignity we had—I was more like a crass Nord in demeanor, now. Then it was the understanding we had of each other that fell in—why is he doing this, why did she say that? Then it was the easiness with which we fought together—resulted in more than a few broken bones and lacerations. And then… then it was the rest.

Vilkas and I had made the trek to Ysgramor's Tomb together, to cleanse me of the Beast Blood once and for all. It was maybe six months after my return to Nirn, maybe six months since I'd assumed the title of Harbinger as he'd hoped I would, and maybe six months since I'd felt like anything more than a void, a shell. I didn't know who I was, and I couldn't tell you why that was so upsetting, for me. I hated the coward who had run from Alinor and hidden amongst the humans in Cyrodiil and now Skyrim—why was I mourning her passing?

Fear of the unknown, I guess. Can't think of any better reason.

Anyway, so Vilkas and I went to cleanse me of the Beast Blood—and, if I'm being entirely honest, to clear the air between us as well. He was quiet all the way to Winterhold, and most of our conversations consisted of "You want to take first watch, or want me to?" and "Your armor laces are untied." Before, this silence would've driven me mad, and I could see Vilkas was testing me, in his own way. Trying to see if the Old Morwyn was still in there, somewhere.

Nchow, I wouldn't be the first to crack. He wants to tell me something, he can tell me himself, dammit. I have no patience for mind games and manipulations. Even less, post-Sovngarde.

My inner wolf put up a hell of a fight (as well she should, since she was a part of me), and as a result, by the time Vilkas and I were back out into Skyrim again, we were bruised, bloodied, and tired. "Hold on," Vilkas grunted, holding his hand out to me.

I flicked glance in his direction. "Hmm?"

"Just… give me a moment."

And that's how we ended up sitting on the overhang that was above the door to the tomb. The crisp, winter breeze blowing in off the Sea of Ghosts froze us both to the bone, but when Vilkas drew me closer to him with an arm around my shoulders, I couldn't tell if that was even colder. We were both just so distant lately, so unlike ourselves. Me? I was changing; everyone could attest to that. I wasn't sure what was north, south, or sideways. Him? Well, when Vilkas withdraws, he's in pain.

Wordlessly, I held a healing potion out to him. Because while I may not be able to heal his emotional pain, I could help with the physical, at least. He accepted it just as silently, downing it in one gulp as he threw back his head. He chucked the now-empty glass vial at the ice below, and it continued skidding across the surface until it tumbled end-over-end into the sea.

I couldn't help myself: "Now that's poetic."

"Dammit, Morwyn," Vilkas growling, slamming a palm into the snow between us.

I cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"You know what," he growled back.

More silence, the kind that neither of us knew what to do with. So I broke Farkas' way, sort of, "Pretend for a moment that I don't?"

Vilkas let out a breath, and it crystallized in front of his face, the way my words do in an Ice Breath Shout. "You aren't you, anymore, Little Elf," he said, more gently that he'd previously been speaking.

I couldn't stand the sympathy, and I turned back to face the endless sea. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I felt a rough hand seize my face by the chin and physically turn my head. I was forced to look him in the eye now, and silvery-grey met fiery crimson. "Morwyn… what happened to you in Sovngarde? I mean, what really happened?"

He wouldn't release my face. "I don't know," I said quietly. "I've told you all I can—you know that."

"But you aren't you, anymore. This… woman, who came back—she's not my Morwyn."

"No," I agreed quietly, breaking both our hearts at once, "she isn't, is she?"

"Don't do this, Morwyn," Vilkas said, and he sounded halfway to pleading—and Vilkas doesn't plead. He suggests, he orders, he'll even ask, but he never pleads. "Don't throw away all you've worked for, because…"

I jerked my head out of his grasp, effectively interrupting him. "Do not presume you can order me about, Vilkas. I'm a friend, not a subordinate."

I think that was what did him in—that I called myself 'friend,' and nothing more. "Morwyn…" his voice had gone decidedly quiet. "I love you, don't do this."

I couldn't look him in the eye. I couldn't even look the sea in the eye. All I could do was stare at my hands, clenched in my lap. I had no words left, that wouldn't break his heart, mine, or both.

By the twisted mercy of the Daedra, Vilkas continued, "I made a promise, that I'd stand by your side until the Divines take us, and you…"

"I what," I questioned dangerously, "worship the Daedra instead?"

"You won't even answer me!" There was raw hurt in his voice, raw pain. I couldn't stand to leave him like this; I wished I could just fix things, smooth 'em over until we could talk civilly.

But in that moment, I realized that time would never come. It was what I'd been doing, in regards to this oh-so important question. The answer before Sovngarde had been no because I was sure I'd die—not because I didn't want to. The answer now was no, for an entirely different reason.

"I can't make you happy," I murmured quietly, my own voice breaking. "Why can't you see that?" I drew in a deep breath, and drew myself up to my full, seated height. "No, I won't do that to you. I…" I drew in a breath. No, I wasn't going to stutter, wasn't going to back down, and wasn't going to sacrifice myself for someone else again—no matter whom he was. I'd been doing it all my life, but this was where things changed. "I'm sorry Vilkas, I truly am. But the answer is no."

He was too much a gentlemen to complain about it. He only asked, "Why?"

I sighed, willing myself not to cry. "A lot of reasons, Vilkas, more than there are stars in the sky. But it isn't you who's failing, Shield-Brother…" My voice dropped even lower on the audible scale. "…it's me."

He squeezed the hand I had in the snow. "I've told you, we can help you, I can…"

"No." One quiet, little word, and the great man was silenced. "I'm so sorry, but I…" I couldn't love someone else if I didn't even love myself. I could see that now, clear as glass. "It's something I need to do on my own." I was suddenly on my feet. "Come on. Let's go."

"You go on ahead," Vilkas replied, going toneless in the effort to control his grief. "I'll catch up with you in a bit."

"Fine." I leapt from the overhang.

And you know, he never did.

-)

After that, I couldn't stand being in Jorrvaskr anymore. These faces, these places, these people, Vilkas… I was the source of their most poignant pain, and I refused to trouble their lives with my selfishness anymore. And so when I called the meeting the week after I'd cleansed myself of the Beast Blood, I knew there would be no turning back, after this. This… had an air of finality to it.

I stood on the table in the main room, just above the fire. Aela was sitting stiff-backed on the stairs, Farkas was leaning against one of the pillars, and Vilkas sat a few paces from Aela, a tankard in his hands. Njada was seated at the table a few chairs down from where I stood, Torvar was comfortably situated in an armchair near the pillar opposite Farkas', Ria sat cross-legged in front of the fire, and Athis stood loosely at attention by the door.

"Harbinger," they had greeted in turn when they'd arrived. "Shield-Sister."

I drew in a breath. Everyone was here; time to get on with it. "Listen, everyone," I said, and for once, my Elven cadence didn't seem so out of place here, in the Mead Hall of the Companions. "I have an announcement. Actually, two."

A few pairs of eyes flicked to Vilkas, but when he didn't raise his head, they flicked back to me. I drew in another breath. "I need to be honest with you all—I've been a shitty Harbinger recently." This was met with a smattering of protests, but I held up a hand for silence. "No, that isn't the announcement, that's the reason for the announcement." More than my own lips quirked upwards in an unwanted smile, at that.

"I've been a shitty Harbinger, and I know I have, and I'm not going to get any better doing what I've been doing. Sovngarde… well, Sovngarde mucked me up, and that's all there is to say on that." Athis blushed at the near-profanity; no one else moved a muscle. "So I've done a bit of research, and I'm going to preface the first announcement with it. Vilkas, would you please rise?" He did as asked, leaving his tankard on the floor, but there was no joy in the man anymore. And that's when I knew I was doing the right thing in what was to follow.

"In the event that the Harbinger has other duties which keep him or her away from Jorrvaskr for extended periods of time," I quoted from the books I'd been scouring, "it may become necessary to appoint a Harbinger-Regent to run the day-to-day of Jorrvaskr. Shield-Brother, I ask you—do you feel ready to accept this task?"

You could've heard a pin drop, the room was so quiet.

"Aye," he finally ground out, "for the good of the Companions, I do."

I smiled, but there was no joy in it. "Then from this moment on, consider yourself Master-of-Arms."

Vilkas nodded mechanically, perfunctorily. "I will not let you down, Harbinger."

"See that you don't." I drew in another breath as Vilkas lowered himself back to his seat. "And the other announcement—which I'm sure you all can guess now—is that I'm leaving."

"What?" Ria asked, clearly shocked. (She wasn't alone.) "Leaving? Why?"

I smirked ruefully. "I need to sort myself out, Ria. You all know this as well as I do. So I was thinking I'd enroll in the College of Winterhold for a…" I stopped at the appalled looks I was getting. "Oh for Azura's sake, everyone! It isn't like I said I'm running off to join the Thieves Guild!"

"The Mages' College?" Vilkas asked, doing his best not to sneer (and failing dismally).

And that's when I knew we never would've lasted anyway. "Aye," I growled back. "You forget, I'm an Elf. We're magicians, scholars—things you Nords have no use for. So I figure—what better way to figure out what I actually am?"

Athis nodded. "Sound enough. Better than twiddling your thumbs here."

"So when do you leave?" Farkas asked quietly. Of everyone here, I think I'd miss him the most. With his sweet nature and backhanded wisdom, Farkas was like the brother I wished I'd had.

"On the morrow," I lied. "I've got it all arranged."

Aela opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, then opened it again, then shut it. "Out with it, Aela," I said with something akin to a real smile.

"Are you sure there's no way we could change your mind, Morwyn?" she asked, and then I knew the reason for her hesitation. The Old Morwyn could have been persuaded to stay—this new one would only laugh at the attempts.

"No, my friend," I said with a bleak little laugh, "I don't think so."

And that night, when the rest of the world was asleep, I was dressing in ebony armor and carrying the boots in my hand to lessen the noise I would make as I left. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving as easily as I made it sound, and I think that, if I'd tried to leave with everyone there, I never would've gotten out the door. And so I snuck out like a thief in the night. I've never been terribly stealthy, but I have a will of iron. Besides, it was only as long as it took to get from the door to the stairwell.

I padded softly up the stairs and into the main hall, and who should be sitting before the fire but the bigger Twin. I froze like startled deer, and was just debating whether to walk back downstairs when I heard him, "I know you're there, Harbinger."

I padded out into the light sheepishly. "Your brother is Harbinger, now."

His gaze flicked to me, and took note of my armor. "You're leaving without saying goodbye?"

I sighed. "It's better this way, Farkas. I'm only causing you pain. And if you were all here with me now…I don't think I'd ever leave."

I don't know what I expected from him, but it wasn't this: "Then go." I must've been visibly shocked, because he added, "Go, if it will make your heart whole again. I won't stop you."

I squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you."

Farkas hoisted himself up to his feet, scrutinizing me all the while. When he reached his full height, his smiled was crooked, and sad. "Go with the gods, Morwyn." He had his hands on my shoulders. "And Azura's wisdom to you." He dropped his hands. "Maybe it'll help you more than we can."

I found myself blinking away tears. "And may Talos guide and keep you, Shield-Brother."

He enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug for a moment, then, once I was back on my feet, added, "You always have a home here in Jorrvaskr—you know that, right?" I could only nod. "Good. Now really—go, before someone hears you."

And I set off into the blackest of nights—the kind with no moon or stars at all—and into my future.