Two guards pulled Dragonsreach's doors open for me when I made it to the palace. I had to stop in the Wind District and pick up my weapon and helm. I had hastily cleaned the blade before sheathing it at my side.

I stepped into Dragonsreach with my feet plodding heavily against the floor. The Jarl was not seated on his throne, so I had to ask the two guards next to the empty seat where I was supposed to go. The guards pointed me up the next set of stairs, towards the living quarters and the bedrooms. I found the Jarl and Marina standing over a table strewn with maps and other random assortments of parchment.

"Thank you for coming, Harbinger," Balgruuf said, looking up briefly. "And thank you for helping us earn that victory."

I nodded, setting my helm straight on my head, then leaned against the table next to Marina. "What is this?"

"The next Imperial strategies as well as new troop movements throughout the Hold," Marina said. Her voice was strong, even if her face was weary. "Since the Jarl has made the wise choice of joining the Empire, the Legion has freer movement on the roads between here and Falkreath. It's quite a relief." She sighed and crossed her arms. "Maybe this costly war will be over soon. I wish I knew how many men I lost today. The bodies are still being tallied."

I bit my lip. While I may have lost only two fighters, that was one-fifth of Jorrvaskr's ranks. And they were not going to be easily replaced. If they could be replaced at all.

"I suppose you Companions are all drinking the rest of the night away," Marina said, interrupting my thoughts. "I told the Jarl not to interrupt your reveling, but—"

"We aren't drinking or celebrating," I said to cut her off.

"Isn't that what you do? You all survive a battle, and you revel?"

"Maybe, but we didn't all survive."

"Oh." She fell silent, staring at the table in front of her. "I—"

"Don't. Don't apologize. I don't need it."

"Ylva," the Jarl said, resting a hand on my shoulder, "you and the rest of the Companions have my deepest condolences."

"Like I said, I don't need apologies. I am fine."

"If I may ask, who did you lose? Gods forbid your husband or—"

"Torvar and Ria. They were in the Companions before I joined, and they were both so close to ascending higher in our ranks." I shook my head. "If you'll excuse me, I have to prepare for their funerals. We must honor our dead as soon as possible."

"Once again, I am sorry. I did not know you were preparing for such a thing. Whatever I needed to tell you can wait until later. Come whenever you can, but do not rush."

"Thank you, my lord." I offered a slight bow, then turned to leave.

"I know my apologies mean nothing to you," Marina said which made me pause before I could make it to the stairs, "but I am sorry. For what happened, and for the way I treated you. My original assumptions that the Companions were invincible, and that they were unwilling to die for strangers were wrong."

I did not say a word; I just stalked down the stairs and out of Dragonsreach.

Jorrvaskr was empty when I pushed open the doors. Even the fire in front of our dining table that always burned had gone out. Only the embers remained.

The door leading to the living quarters burst open then, and my children as well as my niece and nephew came trotting up the stairs. Embla had tears streaming down her face, and her arms were stretched out to me. Jergen soon followed her example, and they both wrapped their arms around me.

"Mama!" Embla cried into my shoulder. "We were so scared. So scared."

"I know," I said, hugging my children as tightly as I could. "But there's no reason to be scared now. Papa and I are all right."

"What about my mama and papa?" Bria asked, holding Kale close to her side.

"They're all right, too."

Her face filled with relief, and she hugged her brother a little tighter. "Where are they?"

"They haven't returned yet?"

Then, the doors leading to the porch opened, and Vilkas, Farkas, and Tyra walked in. Vilkas had cleaned off his armor, but his face still had red streaks across it. Some were just superficial bloodstains, but a few were actual scratches. The deepest one was a gash that made a diagonal cut below his left eyebrow to the corner of his eye. Farkas's arm had been patched, so only a scarlet stain peeked through the bandages. He had also cleaned up his armor, although that was all he had cleaned. His face was stained and his hair was in a tangled, bloodstained mess. Tyra's eyes were puffy from weeping, and her hair was in horrible disarray.

"Mama! Papa!" Bria cried, pulling Kale with her as she ran to meet them. Farkas picked Bria up and held her tightly in his arms. Tyra cradled Kale, stroking her hand over his soft blond head.

Vilkas limped closer to the children an me, every step making him wince. He slowly dropped to his knees beside me, wrapping his arms around all three of us.

"Vilkas?" I whispered, hugging him, too. "What happened to your leg?"

"It's only a flesh wound," he whispered back. "I'll be all right." He gave each of the children a kiss on the forehead. "I'm so glad you little ones are safe."

"We kept hearing things," Jergen said. "Big crashes and lots of sword fighting. The girls and Kale were so scared."

"But you weren't?"

Jergen shook his head and puffed out his chest. "Not me. True warriors are never afraid."

Vilkas smiled at our son, ruffling his dark curls. "Brave lad. I'm so proud of you."

Jergen smiled back, then buried his face into the side of Vilkas's neck.

After several minutes, we finally stood up. I held Embla in my arms, since she had refused to let go of my neck. Jergen stood beside Vilkas, standing tall and proud. Much like a real warrior. I could not keep the smile off my face. My son was trying to grow up so fast, trying to be just like his father.

I rubbed my hand over Embla's back, shushing her as her grip around my neck loosened. Her head laid against my shoulder, her breathing eased, and she fell into sleep. The poor thing. "Vilkas," I said, heading towards the living quarters' doors, "perhaps it's time for the little pups to go to bed."

He nodded, taking Jergen with him. I tried not to wince every time Vilkas did. He was hurting, and he had to be hurting badly. He never showed signs of pain, not in front of the children. He knew it would worry them. So for him to show signs of his pain...

Gods, I hope it really is only a flesh wound.

When we got the children into their bedroom, we tucked them into bed, told them everything would be all right, then left. Afterwards, I led Vilkas to our bedroom so I could treat his injuries. I sat him down on the bed, shedding my wolfskin cloak as I knelt in front of him.

"Ylva, I promise it's nothing," he said as I helped him pull off his boots.

"Then you won't mind me looking at it." I handed him a damp cloth. "Wipe your face off. I'm sure you scared the children when you came in covered in blood."

He took the rag and dabbed it against the cut on his eyebrow. "We've prepared the pyres."

"That didn't take long." I took another damp rag and pressed it to the gash that cut across his knee and wrapped around his calf. It was deep, not to mention the still-trickling blood running down his leg.

"Just a flesh wound," my—

"Like you said, we need to honor them as soon as we can. We owe them that." He winced as I began to wrap his wound in clean bandages.

"Then as soon as your wounds have been cleaned, we'll go to the Skyforge and pay our respects."

He nodded, handing me the now-dirty cloth he had used to clean his face. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. A few bruises, fatigue, but nothing serious. I'll recover."

Which is more than I can say for Torvar and Ria.

Once his wound had been cleaned and bandaged, he pulled his boot back on, combed his fingers through his unruly hair, then stood. He pulled me to my feet, handing me my cloak at the same time. I fastened it to my shoulders, then helped Vilkas limp back upstairs.

We met with the rest of the Companions in the main hall. Aela, Farkas, and Tyra carried unlit torches in their hands, the latter two holding two extra torches. They handed us each one, then we headed outside.

On our way up the Skyforge steps, those of us carrying torches lit them. I led the way, Vilkas behind me, and the rest of the Circle filing in behind him. Athis, Njada, and Eirik took their places at the back, their heads low.

The two pyres had been decorated with small snowberry wreaths and a few burning candles. On top lay Torvar's and Ria's bodies, both draped with the red and gold banners of the Companions. Eorlund and his daughter, Sofie, stood to the side of the forge, their heads bowed in respect. Sofie had tears on her youthful face. She had started training with us around the same time Eirik showed up, but she had yet to be accepted as one of us. That did not mean that we grieved without her. She felt the loss just as keenly as the rest of us.

The Companions fanned out in front of the Forge, the members of the Circle standing closer than the whelps. We held our torches high.

I cleared my throat, having to talk past the tears trying to well in my eyes. "Before the ancient flame..."

In one voice, the Circle said, "We grieve."

Vilkas squared his shoulders. "At this loss..."

"We weep."

I watched from the corner of my eye as Farkas held Tyra close to his side, listened as he coughed to clear his throat. "For the fallen..."

"We shout."

Since Tyra kept silent, Aela took up the last part. "And for ourselves..."

"We take our leave."

Starting with me, we laid our torches to the wood. The flames soon took to the pyres, consuming the wood at an alarming rate. We stood back as the flames climbed higher and higher, reaching the top of the pyres and licking the corners of the banners.

"It is done," I said, letting my torch hang low. "Their spirits have flown to Sovngarde. They will be reunited with the Companions of old, with Ysgramor himself, and join in the songs of triumph. Until we meet them again in that perfect place, grieve in whatever way you know. This day, the mountains will tremble with our cries. The lands will feel our sorrow. For Skyrim has lost two of the finest warriors to ever walk through her lands."

Vilkas dropped his own torch in the ever-growing fire, then took my hand. "They're gone, but they will never be forgotten."

Farkas nodded. "Gone, but not forgotten."

The whelps left first. Eirik practically sprinted back into Jorrvaskr. Athis and Njada shared a look, then left after him. Then Aela departed to the Underforge, where I was sure she was going to commune with Hircine. Soon after, Eorlund and Sofie left to be with their family and to repair any damage done to their home during the attack.

Vilkas led me by the hand to Farkas and Tyra. He let go of me, then held his brother tightly. He patted Farkas on the back and said something I did not quite hear. Farkas nodded, embracing his brother just as tightly. I followed their example and hugged Tyra. She shook in my arms, her sobs muffled against my shoulder. I shushed her gently and traced my palm up and down her back.

We stood in silence for a long time; the only sound among us were Tyra's muffled cries. My eyes remained dry, even though my heart ached. I had told myself I had to be strong. I was the Harbinger. They all looked to me for strength and guidance. If they saw me weak, they would not be able to grieve themselves. I had to be the anchor, allow the others to grieve. I had to hold back my own sorrow.

After what felt like hours, I let Tyra go back to Farkas, where she almost collapsed against his chest. He helped her down the stairs and back into Jorrvaskr. Always the gentle, caring husband.

"My meeting with the Jarl is overdue," I said over the sound of crackling embers. "I should go."

"It can wait until later," Vilkas said, his gaze locked on the eastern horizon. The faintest traces of dawn could be seen. Had we really been awake all night? "Ylva, we need rest. After what has transpired, we're all spent. I'm sure the Jarl will understand if you can't make it until the afternoon."

I gave a small nod, then let him take me back into Jorrvaskr. In the dining hall, Eirik sat alone, staring into the bottom of his tankard. He shook his head, then got another drink of ale. I had a feeling he would be drunk before the sun came up.

As we passed Farkas and Tyra's bedroom, we heard muffled voices behind the closed door. It sounded like Farkas was speaking, but I could not hear what he had to say.

Vilkas and I began to take our armor off as soon as we had entered our room. I tried to keep mine all together in a somewhat-contained pile, while Vilkas made an effort to put his away. I ran my hands through my tangled hair, then changed into a clean nightgown. I crawled into bed, Vilkas following my example soon thereafter. He wrapped his arms around me, and I snuggled into his chest. Knowing I could have lost him in the battle made my throat constrict. I had to thank the gods for sparing his life, as well as sparing mine.

I had just closed my eyes when the door creaked open, and two pairs of bare feet padded towards us. Vilkas sat up, one hand still on my back.

"Children, what is it?" he whispered. "You're supposed to be asleep."

"We couldn't sleep, Papa," Jergen said.

"Papa, I had a bad dream," Embla added, her voice quiet and trembling.

Vilkas sighed. "It's all right, little one. Come here, both of you."

I scooted towards the edge of the bed as the two of them crawled into bed between Vilkas and me. Embla snuggled close to her father, while Jergen rested one of his small hands on my shoulder. I draped an arm over him, letting him nestle into me.

"It's all right, little ones," I whispered, running my fingers over Jergen's curly hair. "We're all safe."

With those words, the four of us fell asleep together, holding onto one another as we drifted into our dreams.