It wasn't enough. The Deathlord struck, the axe sailing down and into her left side, cutting deep into her abdomen in a spray of blood and Njada fell to the ground.
“Njada!” Ria cried, darting back with her own shield raised, and looking about for a weapon or help or anything.
She needn't have worried. Elisif had reclaimed Dawnbreaker as soon as it had left Ria's grasp and ran over to the Deathlord. While it had been busy with Njada, she'd managed to creep up on it.
Dawnbreaker rammed through the Draugr's stomach, fire blazing into the undead warrior and as Elisif tore Dawnbreaker out in a swing that ripped through dry flesh, the life died out of it and magic exploded through the chamber. As it fell, Elisif caught the Jagged Crown by one of the teeth and held it to her, stroking it in awe. A legendary relic, part of history and myth, the sight of Nord armies led by their warrior-ruler in their dragontooth crown having struck fear into the heart of many a foe. And now it was hers.
But before that, there was the little matter of their Stormcloak prisoners. Njada was lying on the ground in a pool of blood, Ria leaning over her and sobbing as she did her best to stem the bleeding.
“Njada, you idiot, what were you thinking?” Ria cried. She looked helplessly up at Elisif as she knelt next to her. “Elisif, we've got potions, right? We can keep her alive long enough to get her back to Whiterun, can't we?”
Elisif felt Vilkas at her back, staring down at Njada and squeezing Ria's shoulder. A glance at him, and she knew he was thinking the same, that Njada would be lucky to make it out of the tomb. She turned back to Njada's pale face and saw she knew it too.
“Not... this time... sister,” Njada gasped. “Let me... go... to Sovngarde.”
“No!” Ria sobbed, looking heartbroken and Elisif realised that despite the war coming between them, Shield-Brothers and Sisters never really lost that bond.
“Ria,” Vilkas said quietly. “Let her go. We can't save her. Better this way. Let her die with honour.”
“Thanks... brother,” Njada gasped, before finally turning to Elisif. Elisif was surprised to see her actually smiling.
“Make the story... a good one... Dragon-Queen,” Njada whispered, and then she closed her eyes. She didn't move again and then Ria began to cry in earnest as Vilkas put his arms around her.
“She's gone, Ria,” Vilkas said quietly. “Shor has her now.” Ria wasn't comforted, just crying harder in Vilkas's arms and Elisif was feeling a bit teary-eyed herself. She'd never quite got it before, how you could fight someone, lose and forgive them for killing you. Now she'd been on the receiving end, seeing Njada die and forgive her for being on a different side. Njada had even called her queen. Elisif tightened her grip on the crown. Not Queen yet, and had Njada not been dying, she knew she'd never have acknowledged her claim. But she was closer and she had a crown now. It was something, and it would make a good story. She'd have to be sure to tell it well, make sure Njada hadn't died for nothing. Everyone died eventually but a good story never did. A part in that was the next best thing to immortality, be you hero or villain. All Nords knew that, but Elisif hadn't really stopped to think about what it meant before. Now she was beginning to understand.
“Elisif,” said Vilkas quietly. “Ralof's still alive. What did you want to do with him?”
“You didn't kill him?” Elisif asked, surprised. She'd have thought the twins would have shown no mercy. Vilkas shook his head.
“He's a Riverwood man. He was going to join us until the Thalmor took his cousin, then he ran off to Windhelm to join the army Ulfric was building. That was five years ago now. I... wasn't sure I wanted to kill him unless I had to. He was never a bad lad.”
No, he probably wasn't, that was the tragedy of it all. Elisif got up and, sheathing her weapons, placed the Jagged Crown on her head, slowly adjusting to the weight as she made her way over. Shor's bones, it was heavy!
Re: The Wolf Queen Awakens 22.10
“Njada!” Ria cried, darting back with her own shield raised, and looking about for a weapon or help or anything.
She needn't have worried. Elisif had reclaimed Dawnbreaker as soon as it had left Ria's grasp and ran over to the Deathlord. While it had been busy with Njada, she'd managed to creep up on it.
Dawnbreaker rammed through the Draugr's stomach, fire blazing into the undead warrior and as Elisif tore Dawnbreaker out in a swing that ripped through dry flesh, the life died out of it and magic exploded through the chamber. As it fell, Elisif caught the Jagged Crown by one of the teeth and held it to her, stroking it in awe. A legendary relic, part of history and myth, the sight of Nord armies led by their warrior-ruler in their dragontooth crown having struck fear into the heart of many a foe. And now it was hers.
But before that, there was the little matter of their Stormcloak prisoners. Njada was lying on the ground in a pool of blood, Ria leaning over her and sobbing as she did her best to stem the bleeding.
“Njada, you idiot, what were you thinking?” Ria cried. She looked helplessly up at Elisif as she knelt next to her. “Elisif, we've got potions, right? We can keep her alive long enough to get her back to Whiterun, can't we?”
Elisif felt Vilkas at her back, staring down at Njada and squeezing Ria's shoulder. A glance at him, and she knew he was thinking the same, that Njada would be lucky to make it out of the tomb. She turned back to Njada's pale face and saw she knew it too.
“Not... this time... sister,” Njada gasped. “Let me... go... to Sovngarde.”
“No!” Ria sobbed, looking heartbroken and Elisif realised that despite the war coming between them, Shield-Brothers and Sisters never really lost that bond.
“Ria,” Vilkas said quietly. “Let her go. We can't save her. Better this way. Let her die with honour.”
“Thanks... brother,” Njada gasped, before finally turning to Elisif. Elisif was surprised to see her actually smiling.
“Make the story... a good one... Dragon-Queen,” Njada whispered, and then she closed her eyes. She didn't move again and then Ria began to cry in earnest as Vilkas put his arms around her.
“She's gone, Ria,” Vilkas said quietly. “Shor has her now.” Ria wasn't comforted, just crying harder in Vilkas's arms and Elisif was feeling a bit teary-eyed herself. She'd never quite got it before, how you could fight someone, lose and forgive them for killing you. Now she'd been on the receiving end, seeing Njada die and forgive her for being on a different side. Njada had even called her queen. Elisif tightened her grip on the crown. Not Queen yet, and had Njada not been dying, she knew she'd never have acknowledged her claim. But she was closer and she had a crown now. It was something, and it would make a good story. She'd have to be sure to tell it well, make sure Njada hadn't died for nothing. Everyone died eventually but a good story never did. A part in that was the next best thing to immortality, be you hero or villain. All Nords knew that, but Elisif hadn't really stopped to think about what it meant before. Now she was beginning to understand.
“Elisif,” said Vilkas quietly. “Ralof's still alive. What did you want to do with him?”
“You didn't kill him?” Elisif asked, surprised. She'd have thought the twins would have shown no mercy. Vilkas shook his head.
“He's a Riverwood man. He was going to join us until the Thalmor took his cousin, then he ran off to Windhelm to join the army Ulfric was building. That was five years ago now. I... wasn't sure I wanted to kill him unless I had to. He was never a bad lad.”
No, he probably wasn't, that was the tragedy of it all. Elisif got up and, sheathing her weapons, placed the Jagged Crown on her head, slowly adjusting to the weight as she made her way over. Shor's bones, it was heavy!