The weight of Percieval's grief filled the air. Draculeus felt a chill. The idea of living as a "widow" of the Dragonborn was a nightmare he hadn't imagined. He cleared his throat, shifting the topic.
"Then... what about my father's Dragonguard? Did his partner die too? Is that why he is alone on the throne?"
"Die?"
Percieval laughed, a genuine, hearty sound.
"No. That crazy girl won't die easily. If I were ever the strongest Dragonguard, she'd just laugh and kill me… because she's stronger than I am. I've only survived a hundred years—that's why the new generation thinks I'm the strongest. But that's not true… that girl, your father's Dragonguard… she's just like him—both of them utterly insane."
He added, his eyes fixed on the horizon, as if listening to echoes of long-past battles:
"If you could see how those two fought… you would question yourself. You would question everything you thought you knew… for they fight differently—beyond what anyone could expect."
