1,367The temple's entrance explodes like a balloon filled with air being poked with a needle.
A cloud of dust rises high, and debris rain everywhere as a cloaked figure is sent hurling across the island, bouncing off the ground like a pebble skipping on stone.
A lone claw-like gauntlet hammers into the ground, bringing an end to the Leonidas' unconventional flight before a dense chilly mist erupts forth from his form.
The arm dug into the earth swings upward, and the island shakes and rumbles as a gargantuan glacial spike stabs skyward, reaching into the clouds, swallowing more than half of the whole island.
The ocean waters around the island quiver as the sound of icecaps breaking rings out, a near deafening rumble that shakes the very organs of those safe within the walls of Winterhold.
Straightening himself, Leonidas dusts his robes off before taking a step to the side just as his glacial spike shatters into smithereens as a wave of force sweeps past.
Clouds, earth and ocean alike are cleaved apart by a colossal crescent moon-like blade born from the mere swing of a weapon. A show of pure, overwhelming physical might instead of Magic.
Leonidas doesn't even gaze at the destruction left in the wake of that attack and instead tilts his head towards Deinmaar's towering form, now standing within the ruins of his previous prison.
"Not so depressed now, are we?" The cloaked Undead calls out, raising his voice to reach the towering Atmoran within the ruins, "Depressed enough to not do jack shit for entire Eras, but not enough to stop ya from killing a very curious tourist, huh?"
Within his mind, Leonidas decided that he had to be an asshole. That he needed to push and antagonize Deinmaar as much as possible. Make him talk and vent, and use that as ammunition to further anger him.
Deinmaar remained still, like a towering mountain within a storm, "I am a Dragon Priest no longer." The giant of a man shakes his head, his voice tinged with regret.
Leonidas shrugs without care, "Obviously. Your order got fucked up the ass during the Merethic Era after Alduin got his shit rocked across Time and Space… But unfortunately, the big winged cunt is back! And that's on us!"
The Atmoran tilts his head and rolls his shoulders, "Us?" He questions, and Leonidas laughs and raises his hands up high as he keeps walking, the towering man's gaze never leaving his form.
"Oh, I'm sorry for including you! I'm sure you want to go back to being fucking useless for a couple more Eras, if we'll even have them." A clawed finger jabs in a certain direction, aimed straight towards the out-of-view Winterhold, "I'm sure you still won't give a fuck when Dragons come to raze down the very City you helped build and use the people living there as a late afternoon snack."
A creaking and popping noise rings out as Deinmaar clenches his hands, a deep breath filling his lungs, "Why are you doing this?"
His mind struggled to wrap itself around the robed man before him now, and the one that kept visiting him each night, for entire months.
One was warm, friendly, and overflowing with humor.
This one… This one was cold. Ruthless.
"Why are you doing this?" He questions softly, yet his voice still reaches the Undead far across the ruined landscape.
Leonidas laughs in response, "Why are you doing this?!" He shouts right back, stopping his walk to fully face Deinmaar, "Fucking talk to me! Or talk to them!" Once more, his finger jabs towards Winterhold, "Those people need you! I can't fucking be everywhere to protect everyone!"
Deinmaar straightens himself faintly in surprise as he catches that faint hint of desperation within Leonidas voice. That faint hint of fear.
It was like staring at his younger self. A proud man who swore to protect everyone. To uphold justice against those abusing their powers to make others suffer.
A very old part of him, deep within his chest, stirs at the sight of someone in need of help. The old Deinmaar would have already been beside them, ready to offer assistance.
But the current Deinmaar closes his eyes and hangs his head, and Leonidas clenches his hands into fists at the sight.
"Fine." The Undead nods, "Dragging you off this dumb rock it is, then."
A sharp whistle- Deinmaar's eyes widen as he stumbles back, left shoulder hanging back from a near-deafening impact that nearly kicked him on his ass- Thick ice cloaks his armor and body before he can even fully straighten himself.
It takes but a flex of his body to shatter it, but inwardly Deinmaar shivers deeply. The cold… It latched onto him, and refused to leave. It dug deep into his flesh, blood and very bone marrow.
Roaring flames wash forth with a flick of his wrist and swing of his blade, scorching the ground black in a split-second, yet the heat does not drive away the cold.
Instead, Leonidas takes a step within his conjured conflagration and freezes it solid together with his body.
A shuddering breath leaves Deinmaar's lips, his lungs aching and his body shivering as a dense mist shrouds the whole island, hiding it from view.
'What terrifying Frost Magic…' Deinmaar muses internally, feeling his fingers go numb from the sheer cold that presses down upon him.
Slowly, Leonidas' shorter form stops right before Deinmaar once more, unafraid of the immense might the Dragon Priest wields or of being within range of his deadly greasword.
The Mask of a fallen comrade stares back at him, and rage slowly warms Deinmaar's chest as he breathes in through his nostrils. "I will not leave my post." He declares as he raises his greatsword, embers flicking to life all around his body.
Soon, an inferno blooms to life, crimson flames going blue then turning a blinding white, yet the cold and mist weren't fully driven away.
A pillar of blinding flames pierced into the heavens, and Deinmaar stood in the middle of it, the bedrock below him bubbling and melting beneath the heat of his flames.
The Mask of his deceased comrade lights up, and the whole island is swallowed by a conflagration of sky-blue flames. The howls of those flames was chilling, akin to wailing ghosts straight out of someone's worst nightmare.
Cold and hot flames clashed, hissing violently as the two wielders just stared at each other without flinching.
Deinmaar squeezed his hands into tight fists to stop their trembling, the cold stabbing deep into his despite the cocoon of flames wrapped around his form.
He doubted that even swimming into a volcano would drive away this terrifying cold feeling that leeched into his bones.
Slowly, he breathes out. His sword wielding arm moves to hold the immense blade before his chest, his other hand joining to grab the handle and squeeze down on it.
Royal blue sparks bloomed to life within the cocoon of white-hot flames, the deep rumbles of distant thunder echoing forth as pillars of lightning flashed into existence, making the waters around the island surge and quiver.
And slowly, flames and thunder alike merged and became one. The heat skyrocketed.
The ocean started boiling and the island started melting as blinding plasma howled into existence, resembling a star walking the earth, blinding any staring towards the battle from the walls of Winterhold.
Arcs of plasma flew in all direction, melting chunks off the island with laughable ease as Deinmaar swings his greatsword to the side and stomps forward, resuming the battle that had barely started.
His foot crashes into the earth with enough force behind it to crater it, that lone leap bringing him further into Leonidas personal space, greatsword made out of dragon bones and Ebony cleaving through the air ruthlessly.
A lone claw-like gauntlet rises to meet that attack, glacial winds and roaring azure flames wrapped around that robed limb. "Krah-!" A lone Draconic Chant echoes out before Deinmaar saw white.
From that lone palm erupted a colossal beam of pure Frost and Cold flames that swallowed half of the island and split the ocean, leaving enormous icebergs and a frozen landscape in its wake.
Deinmaar roars through the pain of the frost stabbing into his flesh and blood and kicks forward, his boot smashing into Leonidas' chest and sending the robed man flying once more.
But the Undead just laughs and creates a column of ice for himself to smash into and stop his flight instantly, his form rising without problem nor care, "You won't leave your post, huh?" He questions aloud, and Deinmaar feels the hair on the back of his neck stand on end at the tone of his voice, "What if you don't have a post to guard anymore?"
A lone clawed finger stretched out, first pointing towards Deinmaar… Then aimed downward.
"Don't you dare-!" His shout came too late. A Draconian Howl howled to life and pierced into the earth, shaking the island down to its foundation and stabbing a hole into its bowels.
Deinmaar saw red, a roar of fury leaving his lips as he crosses the distance with two lone leaps, his greatsword cleaving the sound-barrier apart as it crashes down towards Leonidas's head.
Only for the Mage to duck beneath the predictable swing with laughable ease and step within Deinmaar's personal space, right arm fully drawn back and right hand clenched into a fist wrapped in Cold Flames and howling Frost Magic.
A Draconian Howl Origin Rune blooms into existence upon Leonidas' knuckles just as his fist crashes into Deinmaar's stomach, making the man's eyes widen as his body is bent and lifted off the ground from the surprisingly immense force of the blow.
Then the Origin Rune explodes with force, and Deinmaar grunts in pain as an ear-splitting crack pulverizes their surroundings and sends his huge form flying across the island.
After so long of not fighting and not having been in a battle, all of his senses had grown dull. The immense pain nearly blinded him, especially coupled with the insane cold that just refuses to leave his form despite being cloaked in blinding plasma.
With a grunt, his fingers lash out, melting trenches through the earth to stop his momentum, yet he soon hisses and coughs heavily as he stands, his free hand holding his stomach.
"You remind me of myself. Before I came to Skyrim." Leonidas's voice reaches his ears, but Deinmaar sees only dense and thick mist when he looks up. "I had a dream. A simple one, really. I just needed to push myself and study hard enough to achieve it."
His voice was gentle, yet seemed to come from everywhere as the dense mist drew closer, "And in my mind, I though I really did. That I worked as hard as I could… Yet I failed. I failed to achieve that dream."
"Wanna know what I did next?" Slowly, Deinmaar straightens himself, adjusting his labored breathing as his gaze flicks around to spot his adversary through the dense mist. "Take a guess. Talk to me."
Deinmaar wets his lips and breathes in, "You gave up?" A 'Ding! Ding! Ding!' sound comes from the man beyond the mist.
"Got it in one! Bravo!" Leonidas chuckles, "Pathetic of me, no? I could have tried twice, thrice- I could have kept trying so many times… But instead I gave up. I got depressed."
"And then I started doing things that I thought helped me with my depression, but in reality they just distracted me from it. It was an escape from a cruel Reality I had to face."
The Atmoran grits his teeth and narrows his eyes, "What does that have anything to do with me…?" He questions, despite hating the fact that he already knows the answer.
For he and Leonidas were alike.
"It has everything to do with you, but you can ignore that, if you want." Deinmaar couldn't bring himself to do that. Not anymore. Not when it is shoved directly in his face.
"Whatever happened here fills you with guilt. With a pain that I can only even imagine." Leonidas' voice is comforting, and Deinmaar forces down the urge the smile, "But instead of working through it, of even trying to find an escape from it… You let it chain you down. Literally and figuratively."
Gripping his blade and glowing with plasma, Deinmaar stands tall, "And what will you do about this decision of mine?"
He could hear the shrug that Leonidas gave at his question, "Break those chains, of course." The Undead states without care, "And if to do that I must destroy this island, well…"
A step behind him- Deinmaar whirls around and his blade strikes true, but his eyes widen when he takes in the dispersing form of a flaming Werewolf being what he had cleaved apart.
A palm slams into his chest and lifts him high in the air, then slams him back down onto the earth below.
Leonidas' masked face stares down at him, palm pressing down on his chest, "Ever heard of Exposure Therapy, my friend?" Deinmaar's eyes widen, and a blinding Origin Rune blinks into being below Leonidas' palm, its light growing with each passing second, "Oh, you have?"
"Then welcome to the Leonidas' Special! My very own take on it!"
The power within the Origin Rune washes forth before Deinmaar could even twitch a finger, and he feels the force of a meteor slam into his chest and cave the island in.
Floor after floors caves in, one after another, and Deinmaar roars in anger and pain as he grabs Leonidas robes, hurling him aside with as much strength he could muster before they finally crashed down.
Deinmaar stands with a grunt, panicked eyes flicking around as he swings his free arm to clear away the cloud of dust to peer across the debris.
He only relaxes when he realizes that this was the abandoned armory of the temple, all the equipment left behind having rotted and fallen to ruin due to the passage of time and lack of care.
Breathing out in relief, he raises his greatsword- A piercing howl makes him flinch as the dust is cleared and a Draconian Howl punches his greatsword out of his hand, sending it flying to the side.
"No more weapons." Came Leonidas' voice through the cloud of dust and debris, his steps strangely loud and heavy.
Deinmaar clenches his hands into fists and starts walking towards the sound of his voice, steps equally heavy and pulverizing any debris within his wake.
"We fight like men now."
A Juggernaut of frost resembling Daedric Armor of old stomped into view, as tall and as imposing as the Atmoran advancing forward without blinking.
Both rolled their shoulders, and Deinmaar flares his nostrils.
"I couldn't agree more."
Their pace quickens and their arms draw back.
And then, they greet each other like proper Nords do.
By punching each other in the face hard enough to pulverize their surroundings.
~~XXX~~
With a grunt and sharp exhale, Balgruuf wrenches his blade out of the Dragon's skull and allowed his gaze to roam around the rest of Dragonsreach.
His glorious palace and throne room now lay in ruin and set on fire. Pain filled his heart at the sight, but the Jarl pushed through and turned to the more important matters.
"Farengar!" He bellows aloud, uncaring of his Court Mage location, only knowing that the Mage would hear his incoming order, "Have your students bring out the scrolls! Use the Master Class ones, too!"
With that order echoing in the air, he turns towards the guards moving left and right to help move the Jarls to a secure place.
Some, unfortunately, did not survive the initial onslaught. Mainly the Jarls of Falkreath and Winterhold.
One had been torched by the Dragon that smashed through Dragonsreach, the other was buried beneath the rubble.
Moving swiftly, Balgruuf moves to assist Elisif to her feet, the woman having a nasty cut on her head from a bad fall, "Apologies for being an inconvenience, Jarl Balgruuf…" The woman apologizes, but Balgruuf merely scoffs as he waves a guard over.
"While I am sure that Torygg would love to have you in Sovngarde with him, I am more sure that the people of Solitude still need you." Patting the woman on the head, he leaves her to the guard that had approached, "Lead her to the safety bunker with the others."
The guard nods and assists the wounded woman, her own personal guards moving to follow after her.
With another Jarl being led to safety, Balgruuf moves his gaze to find the one man more important than them all within the room.
The Emperor and his golden armor entered his vision, with the elderly man sitting on the ground, being supported by three of his personal guards.
And what personal guards they were… Balgruuf had seen them battle, and two of them had easily assisted in taking care of the Dragon that smashed through Dragonsreach.
The Dragon wouldn't have gone down as easily had it not been for those three assisting them.
"Balgruuf, my boy." The Emperor calls out when he notices the Jarl approach, one of his hands rising up to pat Balgruuf on the shoulder once the man squats down to be more eye-level with the elder. "I have a task for you. An important one."
Balgruuf pushes any complaint to the side and nods, eyes narrowed in determination, "Your will is my command, Emperor."
The Emperor's gaze drifts towards the destroyed section of Dragonsreach, showing the sky filled with Dragons.
They flew in a circle, dozens of them, like vultures. Sometimes diving down to breathe fire or frost or lightning upon the city below, harming and killing more of his citizens. More of his people.
"The people, the soldiers… They are all scattered and afraid, my boy." The hand on Balgruuf's shoulder squeezes down, "Unite them all. They need to hear the voice of their leader. The voice of their Jarl."
"Only together may we cut down these vile beasts."
Balgruuf flares his nostrils and nods, then he stands, leaving the Emperor with his personal guards.
His own guards approached, pieces of his personal armor forged by the best Blacksmiths in Whiterun being wrapped around his body as he never stopped walking.
But as he walks, he takes note of Ulfric, downed and wounded, yet still living.
Ulfric Stormcloaks lifts his gaze and finds a blade inches away from his throat, his eyes following the bloodied weapon to Balgruuf. Their eyes meet, and neither back down from the stare.
"The people of Skyrim still need your strength." Balgruuf states heavily before withdrawing his blade, "You can face your crimes now, or die protecting our home."
Ulfric gulps, then his gaze flicks towards the beasts proudly flying in the air. The sight of them diving down to wreak havoc made him flare his nostrils in fury.
Soon, his gaze flicks back to Balgruuf, "Let me die fighting for my own brothers and sisters. Like I have done in the past."
Balgruuf smiles and offers the downed man his hand, "Then may Sovngarde welcome you warmly." His hand is taken in a fierce grip, and Ulfric is lifted back to his fit.
At this time, during this tragedy, they had to put personal matters aside and stand together.
Ulfric finally saw to that. He was the destruction being wrought by the Dragons, and he couldn't stand that.
He cursed himself for being so blind these past months.
Ambition truly blinded many.
"The flag of the Empire…" Balgruuf hears a soldier speaks up softly, and his gaze strays towards a collapsed section of Dragonsreach, the rubble and dirt resting upon the long flag of the Empire, "It lies crumbled in the dirt like a rag! Because of those beasts!"
The Jarl feels his chest fill with ire at the sight. He had fought and bled and cried for the Empire.
When the Empire called for assistance, he was there. He had given up his duties instantly to aid it in war. He had helped the Emperor retreat back to Skyrim when the Imperial City had falled.
And he had also helped storm the Imperial City under the Emperor's charge in the attack that reclaimed it.
So he'd be damned if he'd let a flag he bled and killed for lay down in the dirt!
"My Jarl, I am with you." Farengar's voice reaches his ears, and Balgruuf smirks. As expected of his Court Mage, already knowing what he was about to request.
Marching forward, Balgruuf wrenches the flag free and swings it clear of dust and debris before holding it tall as he stands high upon the rubble of Dragonsreach main entrance.
Balgruuf breathes in, and Farengar weaves Illusion Magic to assist his Jarl-
"Sons and Daughters of Skyrim!"
The Nord man bellows, his voice carrying across the whole of Whiterun, overpowering even the roars of the Dragons above.
"Today, Sovngarde is calling for us!"
Down below, deep inside the city, Aela rushes around another corner as a Dragon swoops down, torching the whole street black in seconds.
The Huntress shut her ears to the screams of those she couldn't protect, her gaze nearly manic as she looked around, finding herself closer and closer to her target.
The sudden attack had scattered them, due to the Dragons having used the clouds as cover to get right above the city.
"Today, we stand in the name of the Empire!"
As Aela ran across the street, bow and arrows in hand, she could see the effect Balgruuf's voice was having already.
People stopped screaming and running around, and instead started growing calm.
The attack on Dragonsreach had broken their confidence, but the Jarl being alive lit up that courage within them once more.
"Today! We show these beasts the might of Skyrim!"
Turning another corner, Aela feels a smile of relief spread across her face at the sight of that familiar home she had visited so many times during these months to visit that energetic little brat.
A brat she had taken under her belt, and took out on a great many hunts.
But her heart drops the moment the house comes fully into view, and half of it is completely collapsed with a Dragon-
"Today! We march into Sovngarde with bloodied weapons, and stories to tell!"
Aela's gaze slowly drifts up as a large shadow falls over her.
The Dragon that had been tearing apart that small familiar home was now in the air, having been bodily thrown across the street with laughable ease.
Its large, stone-like form smashes into the earth and tears down entire homes with ease before it comes to a stop.
With a growl, the Dragon stands tall, wings spread far to the side… Yet Aela didn't miss the massive chunk of flesh that had been bitten off near its neck.
"I knew that I smelled a mutt of Hircine…" The Dragon, far bigger than the one that had attacked Whiterun with the Dragon Priest months ago, growls out, claws digging into the earth, "But you are no mere mutt of his, are you…?"
Aela suddenly realizes that the Dragon was not speaking to her.
The ground shakes, and a growl that makes her organs quiver makes Aela freeze, cold sweat covering her form.
"Grab your weapons, my people!"
An immense crimson wolf enters her line of sight, the majestic beast as big as the Dragon face it.
Slitted green eyes regard her for a short second before the immense wolf turns back towards the Dragons and stands protectively in front of her.
"...Gretel?" The wolf's tail wags once, and Aela feels herself grow faint.
She had seen the girls Werewolf form many times now. Crimson, much taller than normal Werewolves, showing that she comes from a bloodline blessed and loved by Hircine.
But this… This was different from that.
She is Hircine's Champion…? Aela realizes as the wolf breathes in.
"Kiss your Husbands, Wives, or Children!"
An ear-piercing howl rings out across the whole of Whiterun, heating up the blood of all those holding a blessing of Hircine.
Aela feels all of her fear and anxiety vanish into smoke, and she breathes in, finding a near-feral grin split her face.
The Dragon laughs, standing tall upon its hind legs, "Hah! You'll be a fine challenge, mutt! Come at-" The Dragon suddenly finds itself launched high into the air once more, the crimson wolf having moved far faster than it could have thought.
"For today! We live with Honor, and die with Glory!"
The crimson wolf pounces towards her prey, jaws filled with serrated teeth sinking into a lone wing and pulling-
A tearing sound fills the air together with a roar of pain as Dragon and wolf smash back down on the earth, Aela giving chase soon after.
"Ancestors, one and all-!"
With a grunt, the Emperor rises, smiling with pride as he watches Jarl Balgruuf hold the banner up high.
"BEAR WITNESS!"
The elderly ruler breathes in and closes his eyes with a nod.
In his mind, this was how a true Ruler had to be. Capable of filling his people with courage with just a few words.
One that holds such devotion and love towards his people that said people would be willing to die for him without thinking twice about it.
"Today! The Dragons will cower before our unyielding spirit like they did before yours!"
Turning his head, the Emperor lets his gaze fall on one of his three guards.
Clad in heavy Imperial Armor, and as quiet as ever, the glorious man beneath stared back at him, "Will you fight for me again, Forgotten Hero?"
The Emperor asks with a slightly teasing smile, earning a deep sigh from the man that had once worn his armor, and taken back the Imperial City.
Tyr chuckles, slapping the Hero on the back, "It is always an honor, Emperor."
The quiet Hero nods, the azure eyes beneath the helm burning with the same determination that had felled Naarifin.
Smiling, the Emperor stands tall and moves to join Balgruuf's side. The Jarl is surprised by the action. "You fight with us, Emperor?"
With a laugh, the elderly ruler answers, "My people are in need, and you think I will cower and seek safety?" He sneers and rolls his shoulders, "If I have to die, then let me die fighting for my people."
Balgruuf nods and smiles, "It is an honor to fight by your side once more."
"Hah!" The Emperor throws his head back with a grin, "The honor has always been mine! Lead us to battle then, boy!"
With a nod, the Jarl goes to speak once more, the people of his city rallied and granted courage through his words, and now fighting back against the Dragons with equal or even greater ferocity than the beasts.
The Emperor could see a few fall from the skies, having been impaled by the siege weaponry, while few even dared to fight them on the ground.
Cowardly beasts.
A cry cuts the air before Balgruuf could issue an order or speak further words, a sharp- "Incoming!" from one of the guards making them all raise their weapons and ready themselves.
A Dragon had broken off from the flying group taking dives upon the city below and made a beeline towards them, a roar leaving its jaws.
A second one came into view. Immense, with a wingspan bigger than the one ahead of it, and it was gaining fast.
For some reason, the Emperor saw Balgruuf grin.
The reason behind it was swiftly understood by others when the titanic Dragon rammed into the smaller one, enormous claws slamming into the beast's beast and causing them both to fall down upon the earth like meteorites.
The impact before Jorrvaskr's walls shook the whole city, and the titanic Dragon stood tall out of the cloud of dust and debris, letting out a roar so mighty and loud that it had the army above falter.
"Listen well, you gnats!" The Dragon roars heavenward, challenging its own brothers without care or fear. "I will no longer stand by and watch you needlessly slaughter people! No more!"
"For my name is Julspaan!" The Dragon declares, standing tall and proud, wings spread wide apart, "Come, you cowardly gnats! I'll show you how a Real Dragon battles!"
From the back, people heard Farengar say 'Mankind's Protector', which was likely the translation of the Dragon's name.
As one, the Dragons roared in fury at the challenge and insults, all turning to make a straight beeline towards the beast awaiting for them below.
But that is when a voice overwhelmed their mighty and furious roars.
A lone word, spat out with such rage, such hate, that the very skies changed color.
"JOOR-!"
The Dragons howled. Pain, fear, terror. Some flailed in the airs like chicks that do not know how to fly.
Others turned around, hoping to fly away. To escape the city. To escape that voice.
The voice that dictated their Fate.
"-ZAH-!"
The skies rumbled. A killing intent so thick and dense filling the air, choking up the throat of the Dragons that uselessly flailed.
Their howls turned into screams. Some even pleaded.
Some were shot out of the skies directly, massive arrows punching through their guts and heads and sending them plummeting down from the skies.
Then the final word was spoken.
"FRUL!"
It was a Death Knell.
Everyone who heard that Shout could understand what it was meant for. What it did.
Among the thirty plus Dragons in the air, nearly half of them were torn apart and set alight by a chilling light blue fire.
The others squealed.
They fell from the skies, smashing down into the city below… And the people roared, pouncing upon them like a pack of wolves seeing a sheep lost in the woods.
Laughing boisterously, Balgruuf raised his weapon and stomped forward.
No words were needed. Only laughter.
Laughter that spelled ill for the Dragons.
The Emperor chuckled to himself.
Sometimes, he forgets how crazy Nords can get…
A.N. I want y'all to think of something.
That wolf is Gretel's REAL Werewolf form. And I Hildr's has been stated to be 'so powerful she can't control it'.
Just think about that, 'kay? Totally ain't relevant. Nuh-uh.
Also, hope y'all enjoyed this chappy!
Am feedin' y'all, ain't I?
If you want to read FIVE CHAPTERS ahead, then hop on over to my ! Or not, ya ain't being forced!
p at re on SamuraiCheem
See ya soon!
Toodles!