Special thanks to 16DarkMidnight80 without whom this story would not have completed for many, many more months than it's taken! Thanks also to my readers and reviewers—your support is and has been greatly appreciated!

-B-

An unidentified point in time sometime after the main quest…

-B-

The Imperial City was gorgeous after its own fashion—having seen most of Tamriel since Alduin's defeat, I'd learned to judge each place 'after its own fashion' or risk losing appreciation for the uniqueness of each Province.

As it was, it was the first dry day since Artherius and I arrived in the Imperial City, a bevy of our people with us. Today, though, we were spread out, people moving into positions since the early morning hours.

"You sure this will work?" Artherius asked, eyeing me—or more accurately my black armor and robes (sans the horn-like crown, which I carried in a satchel hanging from my shoulder—skeptically. "Because I think it's stupid. And you'll look really stupid if it doesn't work."

"Can't be that stupid or you'd have done more than complain," I answered with a grin. "As far as working… it might not. But what if it does?"

"Fifty septims says you make a fool out of yourself," he declared, crossing his arms. "You and that outfit."

"Ouch. Keep this up and you'll hurt my feelings." He knows he likes it... the outfit, that is.

He smirked at me, bronzy eyes dancing. "I'd make them better again."

I had to laugh at this. He dodged the playful swipe I leveled at him.

"I thought we were supposed to be dignified," he hissed, resuming his spot beside me. "How is this dignified?"

"I am—I don't know what you're doing."

We entered the Temple of the One, with its massive stone statue, the Avatar of Akatosh. I'd heard of the thing before, relic of the Oblivion Crisis, but never thought I'd see it. The ancient brazier that held the dragonfires at that time stood near the statue. From overhead, light poured in, washing the shadows the interior might have had with multidirectional brightness. People milled about, paying their respects, pausing to converse with friends or acquaintances (or stopping to stare at me, black spot of spiky, martial appearance that I was). The whole place bustled, making me tense.

Artherius' hand appeared on my elbow. He said nothing, but the touch was all I needed. I slipped my shoulder satchel off, freeing my headdress before letting him take the bag. Then, with a deep breath, I marched up to the brazier that once housed the dragonfires. It was a simple thing of white marble, a wide, shallow dish on a square plinth. I took a deep breath.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

The Shout sent a blast of fire rocketing towards the wall. The flames never made it to blacken the stone: the brazier seeming to catch and hold them until it was full of green fires blazing away merrily as if they had never gone cold.

I found myself grinning into the flames as the sounds of shock and utter astonishment rang in my ears. Only a true Dragonblood Emperor (or, in my case, Empress) could light the dragonfires. They may have outlived their original purpose, but they serve one more, less exalted, as they always have.

There's nothing wrong with humble things. So often, they're the ones that matter.

I turned to face the crowd, people from outside already streaming in to investigate the noise, settling the crown-like headdress over my red locks. The shattered Amulet of Kings glittered about my neck, backed by ebony scales. "I am Bellona Dovahkiin, the Last Dragonborn," I announced, putting all the strength of voice and speech I had into the words. "Today you are witnesses: behold the dragonfires re-lit after centuries of sleep. Behold the Amulet of Kings. Behold the Empire's empty throne. Today, this Empire begins to rise from its own ashes. Today, the Septim Line returns to the Imperial City. And today begins the mending of this shattered Empire."

With that, and knowing the news would spread like wildfire, I moved through the crowd which parted for me, buzzing like so many little bees.

"Fifty septims, I think you said?" I smiled at Artherius.

Artherius grinned back at me, his bronzy eyes glittering with enthusiasm. "This 'dragons love treasure, I can't help it!' thing of yours is ridiculous. I think you just like shiny objects." He never changed his mind about my dragon soul, despite numerous evidences to support the claim. By now, I'd be disappointed if he suddenly accepted it as fact.

I think that's part of why I like him so much. Sometimes you just need someone who disagrees with you.

"I like you, don't I?"

"Case in point. If I were an object I'd be very shiny," he answered. "Imperial Palace?" Artherius offered me his arm with a courtly bow.

"Imperial Palace," I agreed.

My maimed hand rested gently in the sturdy crook of his elbow as he limped alongside me towards the Imperial Palace.