Still-Born Shout [#wattys2017]

Chapter Seventeen

Sif stared across the table at Julius, feeling the closest thing she possibly could to bewilderment. It seemed she had forgotten about him, it seemed she hadn't thought of anything in Cyrodiil since she crossed paths with Alduin. It was almost as if her mind had made every effort to forget about Julius, the beggars, everything. Even Jarra was surrounded in a mist of forgetfulness.

He looked a hundred years older than he did when Sif remembered last seeing him. He was eating ravenously, as if he hadn't eaten for days. His scraggly beard and stringy locks were gone; his silver hair was cropped close to his scalp and he had but a few days' stubble littering his face. Upon meeting him at the Skyforge, he, Sif, Aela, and Farkas had returned to Jorrvaskr's common hall. Thankfully, Aela had wasted no time summoning the chambermaid to bring forth plates of steaming food.

Everything seemed to come back to her as she took in the weathered appearance of the man who had cared for her and protected her for almost ten years.

"Julius, how did you find me?" Sif finally asked, breaking the silence that had enveloped them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Farkas's gaze train onto the old Imperial. Julius swallowed his mouthful of potatoes and cheese before opening his mouth to speak.

"I followed the stories, Sif. Your successes have become legendary across the province," Julius explained. I crossed the border and came through the Jerall Mountains, hoping to pick up on your trail. I instead ended up in the hold of Falkreath, where I resided until rumors of dragons began."

"Where did you go after that?" Sif asked, genuinely interested in what he had to say. She wondered if he'd ever heard any rumors of her time with the Dark Brotherhood. If he'd found out enough to be able to track her down, he probably had.

"After I heard the Shout that summoned the Dovahkiin, I went to Riften to gather information. From there, I followed rumors further north. You were called Snow-Blood then," he said, a hint of a smile crossing his face. "By the time I made it to the hold of Eastmarch, you were Red-Shadow. I met Ulfric Stormcloak himself, and he sent me here to find you."

A wave of nostalgic regret pulsed through Sif's being. When she had arrived in Whiterun, she could think only of Ulfric's dejection as she strode away from Castle Dour on the night of their victory in Solitude. Since meeting Farkas, however, she hadn't thought of him but twice. It hadn't bothered her, either, until Julius brought it up. The knowledge that Ulfric had helped Julius find her seemed strange; he wasn't one to divulge information so easily.

"What could you have possibly told Ulfric that would convince him to give up my whereabouts so easily?" she asked with a hint of incredulousness. Farkas seemed to pick up on her change of tone; his eyes fixed on her face instead. She maintained contact with Julius.

"I told him my name. I told him I was of the Patrinius bloodline, and that my sole purpose for existing was to protect the last descendant of Tiber Septim. You are the last descendant of Tiber Septim, of Talos. My sole purpose in life is to protect yours, Sif," Julius said, placing his palms on the table and leaning forward slightly. "You are the last living Septim in Tamriel."

Sif knew it. She had known for a long time. She didn't know how she knew, but every time she had raised a sword in the name of Ulfric Stormcloak, in the name of Talos, she had felt something that she could never quite explain. Kinship, perhaps? Camaraderie? Was it the same thing that had brought the Stormcloaks together in the first place? She wasn't sure.

All that she was sure of was what Julius was telling her. She wasn't surprised, by any means, though the information did confirm many suspicions she had.