When it was over Revak had to fight the urge to fall forward. His muscles screamed in agony from the impact of landing on the dragon's back, but inside Revak was elated. He had Shouted! His Voice had returned, and he'd killed a dragon!
The Dragon War had ended before Talos was even born. He never had a chance to fell a dragon. Instead he learned his Shouts through the Greybeards, and, through them, their leader Paarthurnax. He stood listening to his first Shout as it echoed amongst the mountains; a smile radiating from him.
The others had begun cheering, all except for Lydia. She stood in front of Revak frozen where she stood. Irileth calmed her guards, threatening double shifts for those who weren't eager to stop their cheering, “Enough,” the dark elf said, as she took a place beside Revak so that she could address her guards more directly, “we've got work to do.” She sighed, “Hadvir?”
One of the guards stepped forward, “Yes m'am?”
“Return to Whiterun, I want a triple of guards here within the hour,” she said darkly, “we need to clean up this mess.” The guard raised his fist to his chest in a salute then ran back toward the city.
Revak's smile disappeared, only now did he notice the carnage that the dragon had left in its wake. Only one of the original guards stationed at the tower had survived, and of the twelve that arrived with Irileth five hadn't made it. Revak was grateful that their souls would surely be welcomed in Sovngarde, but then Revak's heart sank. They may never reach the Hall of Heroes. Alduin could snatch their souls before they reach the fabled Hall.
Revak turned to Irileth, “Let us gather the fallen and see them to rest.” Irileth nodded solemnly, then began commanding the remaining soldiers to begin gathering the bodies of the dead. Revak felt rather than saw Lydia's eyes staring at him, he stepped toward her and attempted to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shied away, “Are you all right?” Revak said with concern. She didn't answer. With a sigh Revak left her and was about to help the others carry the bodies.
“You knew,” he heard Lydia's voice behind him.
Revak turned, “Sorry?”
She stepped toward him now, pointing at Revak, “You knew you were Dragonborn.”
“That's ridiculous,” Revak said with a sigh, “you should rest, we haven't slept in days, and after all this you must be exhausted.”
“Excuse me?” she said in offense. She shook her head, “You knew.”
Revak started walking toward a guard who was having a hard time lifting one of the fallen, “This is hardly the time.” Revak grabbed the feet of the body while the guard lifted the upper body, they carried it over to the others where Irileth was having the guards line the fallen in a row. Revak closed the fallen guard's eyes, “Find peace in Sovngarde brother,” Revak said, Avoid the wings of the worm and find the gilded Hall, he said silently. He felt Lydia still standing behind him, “We will speak another time, for now let us finish here and respect the honored dead.” She still stared at him, he smiled, “Don't make me Shout.”
They worked until the sun was rising over the mountains. Overnight a wagon had arrived from the city, they gathered the dead and lead a march back to Whiterun, a triple acting as a honor guard to see the fallen to the Hall of the Dead. Lydia and Revak were at the tail end of the small guard. Even so, once they made it through the gates it became apparent that the entire hold had heard of the events of the night as the citizens lined the road leading to the Hall of the Dead. As Revak passed he caught the sound of hushed voices and the sight of eyes darting away from him. Revak had hoped he would be able to leave the city quietly in the night, but apparently the word of a Dragonborn spread faster than even a dragon could fly.
The local priest of Arkay dressed in black robes greeted the guard as they arrived at the Hall, as the dead were carried underground the priest's arms were raised and his mouth moved, repeating ancient prayers to lead the souls of the dead warriors to Sovngarde. Once all the dead were delivered the citizens and guards departed, save for the families of the fallen who grieved outside the gates of the Hall of the Dead.
Revak watched the mourning for a moment, then, his heart heavy, he turned right and headed down the road toward the great white tree, and near it, the statue that represented Talos. With a sigh he stretched, his muscles screaming in protest. He walked to the stream and looked at his own reflection and did a double take. This was the first time he'd really gotten a chance to see himself. He looked as he had when he was a young man. His blond hair cropped short, his eyes deep blue, his features were fair and defined, at least for a Nord, even though he was covered in dirt and muck. Stubble had already started to grow on his face making his face look a little rough. Revak removed his guantlets and used the cool water to rinse the dirt and blood from his arms, neck and face.
Revak sat on the bench in front of the statue. It was early in the morning and the preacher hadn't began yet; in fact he was no where in sight. He stared at himself. Well, not really himself, but what the Nords invisioned him as. Anywhere you go in the Empire they have a different vision of Talos, or a different name. The Nords called him Talos or Ysmir, the Imperials know him as Tiber Septim, there are even a few who might recognize him as Wulf. The statue of Ysmir before him showed a strong Nord with a large beard and wearing a winged helm.
Revak leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. The fatigue of recent events now consuming him. How many had died all ready from Alduin's rage? First Helgen, and now the watchtower. How many would it be in the end? He kept returning to the tower, if he'd killed Mirmulnir, for he now understood that to be the dragon's name, earlier would more guards have survived? Even one more? And now Lydia suspected him, of what he wasn't even sure. She suspected that he knew he was Dragonborn already, which is true, but he's also so much more than that. Did he dare trust telling any mortals? He shivered even though the word hadn't been said aloud. It felt wrong calling them mortals; wasn't he one of them at one point? He didn't even know the extent of this body's power. So far he'd been able to Shout, but it was not as powerful as he'd hoped, nor was it as powerful a Shout as the ones that he had summoned in his previous life. As of yet he hasn't displayed any sort of godly power; at least he hadn't made something float in the air.
He jumped slightly as he felt a rain drop on his neck, then another, within a few minutes a steady downpour began, Revak stood, thinking to find shelter when suddenly it stopped, but the sky was still black with clouds. He heard thunder boom causing the ground to shake slightly, then he heard a voice, no not one voice but many, voice that seemed to be coming from the sky itself, a voice saying one word clear and strong, “DOVAHKIIN!”