Two Dragonborn

[ Prologue ]

"Goodbye, old friend. We will miss you, but do not worry. Frea will guide us well, thanks to you."

"We won't forget what you did for us, Storn Crag-Strider. Walk with the All-Maker."

I stand surrounded by the Skaal, ringed among their cries and laments for their now fallen Shaman Storn.

I look down at his prone unmoving form. His body is an empty husk now, devoid of soul, of spirit. It is a sight I am far too acquainted with yet his death sends a sharp pang through me. Sadness blooms.

"I... uh... you'll be missed, old man."

"May the All-Maker guide your soul to the next life."

More of the Skaal continue. I offer no words, no comfort- I feel like I cannot so I only stare ahead. Stare as Frea hunches over her father's still form, the father she will no longer have. Stare as more members of the Skaal gather around to pay their respects, praying to their All-Maker.

It is because of me this mourning is occurring, because of me the shaman has fallen, because of me that he shall no longer speak and guide his people. The sorrow his going creates is palpable; it bleeds into the sky, into the air, stirring something deep within me.

"I don't really understand what you did, but I trust you did it for the good of the village. So... thank you."

A Skaal says coming to stand beside me-it's Morwen. My gaze leaves Storn's corpse for just a moment before moving over to fix on her. Her eyes glint, devoid of sadness or sorrow, and they actually seem bright with a sort of-I have to stare hard enough to place the emotion-respect? Yes, it's a sort of respect, a complete and total respect. It is not only her eyes that relay this, but her tone as well. Her voice is filled with a trust that is absolute and I realize then that she is looking upon me with faith-as if she believes that I am to do something, that I will do something. Her gaze shines with an awe that makes me feel like if I'm the great answer to all her unanswered questions. The look she gives me pains me, causing me to feel shamed. I am undeserving of such a look, of such faith. How could I be when I did nothing to save Storn? When I had just stood there as Mora took the Shaman in his hold and drained his life? Gaining something in return.

"It can't be... please, All-Maker, send him back to us..."

Pain twists my features, I look away, unable to meet Morwen's eyes.

Despite the fact I am to blame for her shaman's death, she gifts me with a thanks. Despite my conjuring of the Demon of Knowledge and doing nothing then, she gifts me with faith. Humiliation stabs at my heart.

More and more of Skaal gather to pay their respects and offer idle comments.

"Frea... I'm sorry."

"By the gods... I've never seen anything like it...I, uh... I don't think this will go in my book." Tharstan pipes, clearly horrified.

I still find myself unable to speak, loss silencing me. I suddenly feel like a stranger. The sense that I do not belong among the Skaal blooms. I do not belong among them. I cannot hope to feel the same way they do about Storn's passing, I cannot feel his loss as strongly as they do. I am simply an outsider looking in, but...I was growing to be fond of Storn in the small time we spent together-even if the time we spent was very little compared to the time he and his village had. I had liked the old man, respecting both him and his knowledge, admiring his extensive wisdom.

Sacrifice. He had sacrificed himself for me. Died for me. Yet another wise man was lost to the world, another casualty in consequence of my actions. Embarrassment surges, anger coming at the fact that I hadn't expected Hermaeus to betray me.

"Frea...what happened? What was that thing? I thought the village was safe now." Panic rises.

She offers no reply, opting instead for silence.

"Myrena."

At the sound of my name I look up with a blink, my thoughts interrupted. Frea has called me, yet her head does not rise to meet my stare. She remains hunched over her father, holding him in her arms. Her face is taut with grief, it draws her mouth down to a thin line and causes her brows to furrow, birthing deep wrinkles. A small sound escapes her and her eyes seem moist with tears.

It is her grief I feel most of all. It flows out from her in streams that slam me with its intensity. She looks so very lost and vulnerable, like a lost child... And now with both her mother and father gone perhaps she is. I am suddenly reminded of myself.

"Myrena," She repeats, this time lifting her head to finally acknowledge me. I swallow as I meet her gaze and suddenly recall a conversation we had.

"Frea, I have to thank you for fighting with me." I say as we make our way to her village. I stretch my arms out and give her a smile, continuing, "It's always nice to have someone along for the adventure. I've kind of missed that feeling." I drop my arms with a pleased exhale and look over at her.

"Though, I have been wondering...You fight pretty well for a shaman. Who trained you?"

A smile automatically graces her lips, skittering across as she looks away, a far-off look glazing her eyes. For a moment I stare. It is clear she is currently not here with me but in a memory.

"It was Skaf the Giant, our former chieftain, who taught me the ways of battle." She begins after a moment of silence. Her voice is soft, her tone loving as she recounts the tale. I find myself blinking at such a fond tone, then relaxing because it's so nice. My already present smile deepens as she goes on.

"I used to be terrified of him when I was a little girl." She recounts, letting out a breath as if to say that was only half the truth. "I was a restless and angry child. And Skaf taught me swordplay so that I could, as he used to say, 'put that fire to good use.'" Her eyes twinkle with mirth, she laughs softly. "He was a great man and a good leader. I miss him dearly."

Angry and restless.

Fire.

Frea's eyes are not gentle as they look to me, they are not calm nor moist with tears. They do not mirror sorrow. No, her eyes burn with a vehement fire, a rage full blaze as fierce as a dragon's.

"Go." She says-no, demands. The light in her eyes intensifies. "My father sacrificed himself so that you could destroy Miraak and lift his master's shadow from the land."

"Frea, I-..."

I feel the uncertain expression that flickers across my features. I want to offer my condolences, my sorry, my apology. I wish to tell her that I have known loss too and that it is alright-that it will be alright. That I am guilty to have brought Mora's presence to her people, and humiliated that I allowed him to trick me and take from her her father. But the words do not leave me, I can only feel her demand push through, and agree.

Storn sacrificed himself, and all for me. His sacrifice was a noble one-an act of kindness I could not ignore or forget. He had divulged his life and people's secrets for me, and all so that I could stop a man from overtaking not only the Skaal but all of Solstheim. Yet another monumental task entrusted to me simply because of my blood and the destiny-or rather destinies-that came with it.

Being the Dragonborn was never an easy task. My entire situation only reinforced that thought.

"I am trusting you will make this sacrifice worthwhile."

The words echo in my mind and I stiffen. That is what Storn had told me just before taking the book.

I draw in a breath, resolve filling me. His sacrifice would be worthwhile. I would make both him and Frea proud. I bend down, crouching and reaching over to take a hold of Frea's hand with two of my own-needing that physical connection.

"Frea... I won't let your father's death go in vain. Someone will pay for this."

Her hand trembles, then stills. She meets my gaze and smiles, apparently liking what she sees and hears in me. The anger in her eyes fades to some degree, overshadowed by deep respect and faith now. It is apparent that she too expects me to do something as well.

"Go, then." Her chin lifts and absolute steel floods her eyes. They spark. "Kill Miraak. Do not fail."

I nod, a lump forming in my throat as I give her hand one last squeeze. I look at Storn's corpse beneath me and close my eyes. Anguish lances through as I give him the moment of silence he rightly deserves. When I open my eyes, I want to ask what they shall do with his body. Where shall they bury him? Where do they put graves? Do they even bury their dead-or do they burn? What do the Skaal do when a member falls? I didn't know, and felt all the more guilty. I barely knew their customs.

Silent, I straighten up, standing among the Skaal once more. My gaze moves around them, falling to each of them that stand in a circle around me, my eyes meeting some of their stares. I hope my eyes tell them what my mouth seems unable to do. That I would help them, that I would not leave them, that they could depend on me and that I would liberate them all.

I take one last look of the village around me before turning around, beginning the newest phase of my journey renewed by the embers of death.

I found myself at The Retching Netch, striding into it after dismounting off Arvak with a dazed thank you and pat. The journey to the inn had been a long one and I found myself questioning why I even took it. It had taken some time to get here and yet I had taken such a route, opting for inn instead of anywhere else, but why? I thought about this as I went down the stairs, removing Krosis so that I could breathe better. At least the journey here had calmed the core of my emotions somewhat.

"You have a fierce look in your eye, Outlander." Geldis informed me when I came to stand across from him.

I did not acknowledge his comment, much too caught up in my head to even register it. I only nodded back, giving him a tight smile as I deposited ten coins onto the counter.

"A room please."

For a moment, I wondered what he saw as he took my payment. Did he see a haggard and weary traveler tired of all her trials and what life had to offer? Worn by her emotions, years of battles and strife? I didn't know, and I wouldn't ask. I looked around as he looked for the key to the room I would occupy, feeling relieved when I saw no one else in the inn. Thank the Divines, it was only me and Geldis. I wasn't sure I wanted to see anyone else.

My gaze returned to the dark elf in time to catch him move away from the counter and onward to usher me forward. We walked in silence, awkwardness settling.

We reached my room and he unlocked the door, taking a step back so that I could enter.

"I hope that everything is in well order for you." He began, inspecting the room before looking over at me. I felt his weighted stare go down from my disheveled hair to the dirt, ash and blood stained Daedric armor and boots I wore. There was no judgment in his eyes, he questioned nothing-something I was particularly fond of- continuing only with a, "Tell me if you need anything else."

I didn't look to see if the room was alright. The tight smile from moments before merely returned as I gave him my answer. "Everything's fine. Thank you, Geldis."

He regarded me for another moment before nodding and turning away. It seemed he had wanted to say something but then decided against it.

"Although," I began, the word spilling out from me before I could stop it. He stopped in his tracks and looked at me patiently when I said, "If it's no problem, I would like some bottles of your strongest wine and mead."

I didn't know why I made such an abrupt request-perhaps to drown my sorrows and celebrate a job well down later in alcohol-but I did. It was too late to retract it when Geldis nodded.

"No problem, Outlander. I'll see what I can find, maybe some Sujamma will patch you right up, but don't worry it'll be coming right up. " He walked away then, leaving me to my thoughts and self.

A hearty sigh escaped me as I took the final steps into my room and closed the door behind me, locking it. I preferred to keep my doors locked no matter where I was-it was simply a habit unless I was somewhere I knew was safe, and even then... At least Geldis didn't seem to mind what I did-yet another thing I enjoyed from the elf. He didn't give any indication of minding, perhaps he had many others who did the same, that or he appeared to understand my habit of doing so and did not even address or speak to me about it. I do not think I would have listened if he did anyway.

I walked forward, moving to stand at the center of my room. I looked around, surveying everything around me. The basic furnishing of an inn room surrounded me, a book shelf, a bed, chairs, tables, decorations. Everything was fine, just as I had told Geldis. An involuntary sigh escaped me when I dropped my knapsack and an extreme wave of yearning and homesickness swept across me. I looked over at the bed, my chest feeling heavy. I moved to it, sitting down and sinking into the sheets, staring down at the floor for a few minutes as I lost myself in my thoughts. I had a task at hand. Something to do, something to achieve. That sense of urgency shook me and had me lifting my head to look over at one of the bedside tables.

There lay a bottle of Nord mead. My hands twitched and I regarded it for a moment before I moved. I leaned forward, arm shooting out to seize the glass bottle. The cork was off before I could even think to stop myself. I stared down at the bottle's contents, wavering. Was it wise to drink just before heading over to Apocrypha? Maybe not, but what could one drink hurt? I was made of hearty stuff, I wouldn't get drunk on just one bottle. My grip tightened without my notice. The alcohol would also help center my thoughts and burn away the pain that came with death. It would, a voice agreed, and I listened to it as I brought the mead to my lips and drank. It went through, burning a smooth path down my throat, I almost relished the feeling.

For a moment, a part of me yelled, What are you doing? You're wasting time! I ignored it, taking another swig as I frowned, closing my eyes as liquid warmed my belly. Then I was back to looking around me as if in a daze.

I wanted to be home. I wanted to be in one of the two homes I had acquired through hard work and toil. Either my home in Solitude, or the home I made with my own two hands. I had a home in Whiterun and other holds, but those were two I preferred the most. I closed my eyes as I thought of the two of them. Bounty after bounty, favor after favor, adventure after adventure, selling and trading, those were what got me my shelter and furnishings. Solitude came with the rewards of my adventuring, whereas my own crafted home came when I finally thought I could settle down and relax after many hard journeys. I had slain Alduin, Harkon, countless vampires, dragons and evil doers after all-and all while carrying out other tasks and quests given to me by Jarls, strangers, friends and colleagues. I thought I deserved a well yearned rest after all these years of adventure. And yet here I was, in Solstheim with yet another task at hand, yet another foe to vanquish. It made me feel old and weary.

Was it so bad that I wished to simply be now a days? To waste my days away reading and reading, enjoying whatever kernels of knowledge, wisdom, and entertainment books had to give me? To enjoy the company of friends made throughout journeys across all of Skyrim? To sing with the Bards? Drink with an inn? Magic with the College? To not have to slay whatever evils lay stretched around the corner as I went where I wanted when I wanted, simply because I wanted to and not because I had to.

I had been doing that a year or so after I slayed Harkon and the vampirism that threatened all of Skyrim. But my life had been changed once more-and all with just one assassination attempt fueled by a order dubbing me a falsehood. Life was hard for one such as me, and I always wondered if I would ever get rest, if my dream of settling down would ever happen. Maybe it was an impossible dream.

Trouble follows you, Myrena. Perhaps it was foolish of me to even hold the thought of possibly settling down. As long as the Dragonborn lived, the Divines had plans, fate had more tasks set out for me, forever tugging at my string. It was inevitable fact. So long as I lived, I would have a plethora of tasks to accomplish, a monumental set of people to help. It was my destiny.

What are you fussing about? You like all the helping, fighting and trouble you get into. It was true. My affliction was in that I truly enjoyed helping others, I enjoyed seeing the smiles, happiness and relief I wrought from assisting, I enjoyed being able to do something. And I enjoyed all the adventuring…

Someone once said that once you got the taste for adventure you were hardly able to stop. Maybe it was I chasing adventure and trouble instead of it me being that I was so used to fighting.

I shook myself, taking one last gulp of mead, downing it all with a chug. Its warmth slid right down my throat and spilled into my veins, my skin buzzing pleasantly for a moment as the burn went straight through, helping. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and set the now empty bottle down.

Then I was up, getting my knapsack so that I could return to bed to rummage through it. I lay down, lying on my back as the urge to sleep came, my vision blurred as my lids lowered. My body screamed for sleep, shouting of just how tired I was, of just how much it ached to rest, but I had to ignore it, shaking off the sudden grogginess I felt. There was something to do. Always something to do. I moved to my side with a groan, reaching over for my bag. I had it, and from it, I pulled the Black Book and finally lifted myself to a sit.

The Book of Waking Dreams. It thrummed with power, vibrating in my hands as it pulsed with its seeping, sinister darkness and light. I could hear the Book demand that I read and partake in its dark knowledge, its insidious whispers tugging at my ears. It was unsettling to hold such a thing so easily in my hands, and I merely stared at it, thinking of the hot white anger that should be taking me.

My fists should be clenching with anger, sudden deep hot anger. My brows should be furrowing from it, my teeth gritting and my body burning and quaking with it as I thought about Apocrypha and what it entailed. Perhaps I was feeling it-or not. I wasn't sure anymore. My emotions too jumbled to even settle on one sole feeling, it all mixing to form a vague numbness.

I took a breath. But I was angry, I knew that. I was angry at myself for not doing a thing, for not refusing Mora and allowing Storn to sacrifice himself. I could have done something. I could have prevented his death… More anger came when my thoughts went to Miraak, a Dragonborn like me. The First.

The priest who had taunted me, threatened me, and sought my demise. The priest who controlled the minds of countless to do his bidding all so that he could return to Tamriel once more to wreak havoc and chaos. He had even ventured to take the kills that were rightfully mine, the souls of Dragons that were mine to take because I had killed them. He had robbed me of my natural right to have them. Then again, wasn't it his right as well? He was the First Dragonborn-even still that doesn't mean he has any right to kill you.

More of that anger pushed through the numbness, and I accepted it, holding onto it firmly.

"It takes a strong will to command a Dragon's soul, perhaps you aren't as powerful as you think"

I closed my eyes as I recalled the words. That was what he thought, but what did he know? I had done all that he hadn't. He was the one who had run away, he was the one that had abandoned his destiny and shouldered his burden-his job of ridding the world of Alduin onto me. Could I even dare to say his negligence was the reason for my existence? Perhaps he wasn't as powerful as he thought.

His sole purpose was to return, to be free of Mora and reign, but I wouldn't allow it. One because he was a greedy, power hungry fool and two because he had taken advantage of so many others, including me. He wouldn't come back, he wouldn't take my soul and gain with it freedom. He would be dead first. It was a promise to myself and all of Solstheim and Tamriel.

And it was a promise I was keeping and bringing to life as I looked over what I had-my sword, two health, magicka and stamina potions and a dagger- and flipped open the book.

Light, brilliant light assaulted me for a second before everything became dotted in black. Everything blurred, the edge of my vision green. Vision swimming, I held the book as its magic reached out, its darkness wrapping around me, tentacles choking, as it transported me from one realm to another.

The transit between realms is always the hardest-especially if your stream of consciousness is being pulled through a book. It hurts-the sensation of a sharp yank, a sharp pull and tug scalding. It hurts-you're splitting and can do nothing about with your sight taking a long while to regain itself. Balance is ultimately off when you finally touch down, and deep nausea settles in. You smell something foul and everything spins, disorientation. Such discomfort last only a second really- the journey only taking that long-but at times it feels like forever, at least to me.

When I finally settled into my body, no longer feeling nauseous nor faint, I glanced around.

I rolled away, managing to dodge the Lurker's attempt to crush me beneath its foot. I exhaled, staring up at the Lurker, blade at a guard, feet spread as I waited. It edged toward me with heavy, awkward stomps. Howling, it spewed. Tentacles and viscous fluid emerged. I was quick to move away from the disgusting mix. Eck. I grimaced and moved then.

The Lurker screeched as I slashed it. It swung its massive arms attempting once more to hit me, but it missed when I effectively dodged. It screamed. I smiled, it was getting frustrated. I charged forward, jumping and then slashing down, dispatching the Lurker with a quick blow to its head. It gave a hoarse death cry before melting down to a pool.

I sheathed my blade and walked. Rolling my shoulders around, I stretched my arms and exhaled, working the tension out of me. Rich cracks and creaks sounded. I wished for a massage, and the sooner I finished, the sooner I could actually get one. Finding a font of Stamina, I stopped and absorbed it. Bone and muscle recharged.

Trek continuing, I made my way through the tunnel and found a scrye. With the touch of my hand it activated, allowing me entry to the main room and then stairs leading up to a main area. In the area sat a pedestal in its center. The fifth chapter glowed before me, beckoning, and I went in. More Seekers came to meet me as I weaved through the tunnels of this Chapter. I dispatched them all and had thought with slight annoyance that Hermaeus Mora was such a spectacular Prince with all his letting his servants attack me-his so-called "precious" Champion. They were a nuisance. A nuisance I shouldn't have to deal with, I had continued thinking. They were only in the way. I'd received much better treatment from other Daedric Princes, much better-I mused- granted any treatment of theirs wasn't the best either. Hermaeus certainly wasn't the worst and look what I got.

Soon enough I found myself in a large room with four walkways, all linking to the center where a circular area stood glowing. Each walkway contained a small area where an empty pedestal lay. In the glowing center another pedestal stood, but instead of having nothing it held the book leading into the next-and hopefully- last Chapter. Moving onto Chapter V required my going to each empty pedestal and placing on it a Black Book found in a previous Chapter. The center book had glowed and with that I had entered the next Chapter.

Immediately this new chapter felt different, I noticed it as soon as I entered. It felt more vivid, more stark, everything sharper and brighter, the energy to it causing me to feel more hyperaware. The hairs on my arms and neck rose as something jarred my senses. I pressed on, curious and spellbound, walking into and entering a clear and open area much more different than the other chapters. Looking upward revealed a murky dark sky of emerald, papers and books abound. In the distance a black towering structure could be seen...

The summit of Apocrypha...

I stepped forward and immediately jolted when a familiar noise-a familiar sensation swept through me.

Chanting, chanting filled my ears, faint at best. I felt my body becoming aware all the more, the hairs on my arm and the back of my neck rising all the more. Chills arose, goosebumps formed. I looked forward to find two Seekers and tensed as I saw what the two were doing. They were examining a Word Wall. A wall that contained a shout. Excitement shook me and I moved toward the chanting, getting closer to the wall. The words were calling out to me, Draconic symbols beckoning.

The Seekers took notice when I came close enough, leaving their inspection to now look at me. They attacked, claws poised, bodies floating. I slashed them down, dispatching them quickly for I now had an intense need I could not ignore even if I tried. The chanting in my ears proved too much for me, the noise deafening now-I was enthralled and taken. I destroyed the distance between the wall and I. The Chanting was louder now, drowning me in its noise as it reverberated through my entire being.

My hand shot out to trace the indentations the blue words left, a lone finger tracing as my lips moved rapidly, the words leaving me without my understanding of them. A new word was currently branding itself onto my soul. I tilted my head up, nearly closing my eyes with an exhale as the new word became a part of me-as it completed a full line. Blue fire sparked and surrounded, blurring my vision. It wrapped around then faded. Completion. I heard the celebratory shouts of a million warriors, shouts that mingled with the cheers of congratulations. Then it died down completely, the chanting echoing and booming before disappearing altogether. The words lost their glow, losing their weight with their power gone.

I opened my eyes, feeling better now. I had a new word now and innately I knew it was the last and final piece to the Dragon Aspect shout. Pride came, surging. The shout was complete now, the words a full chant. A smile curved my lips. The feeling of completion never grew old. For completing a shout was comparable to completing yet another part of me thought lost.

I felt invincible and unstoppable. It was a heady feeling. The smile grew into a grin, but disappeared when I remembered myself. I couldn't dawdle within my good cheer, a duty was to be completed. I turned and walked, now wondering how I was to get to the top of the summit. I turned once more to regard it, eyes squinting, a hand on my hip as I continued to think. The distance from where I was to the top of the tower was monumental, how could I even reach it? Could I summon Durnehviir? Would he come and be able to fly me to where I had to go? Or did Mora have something laid out for me to use? I looked around and saw nothing. I would have thought I'd be expected with my slashing and all. That and where I was heading. Helllllo, Hermaeus, where's my carriage? Do you expect me to ride Arvak there? Do you expect him to sprout wings? I thought with a sort of mad humor.

Then I heard it, a dragon's roar. I tensed, unable to help it, and looked up to the sky.

Flap, flap.

And there it was flying towards me at full force. A blue dragon, serpentine in nature. It roared and descended, glaring as it circled the small area I occupied. I recognized the dragon as I eyed him. The recollection of me falling to my knees and gasping, Miraak's snide voice jeering and a blue dragon flying, Miraak departing and Seekers attacking, then black came to mind. It was the same dragon before me now. The dragon Miraak had used to fly. Had Miraak sent him expecting me? Another roar left it and its great maw opened in order to gift me with a solid stream of ice meant to freeze and encase. I rolled away, dodging it, a involuntary shout leaving me in reaction.

"GOL HAH DOV!"

The Bend Will Shout. Light engulfed the Dov before I could even blink and a deafening roar left him. I cringed, then blinked as his violent assault ceased. His wings flapped slower now and he lowered, landing before me. The air stirred and the ground beneath me shook, I staggered for a moment then straightened up, immediately feeling dwarfed.

"Hail, thuri. Your thu'um has the mastery. Climb aboard and I will carry you to Miraak."

I blinked, marveling in how Hermaeus really had given me the last word to the Bend Will shout. The Prince hadn't cheated me. He had truly given me the last word in exchange for a clan's knowledge-a man's death. Storn's death hadn't been in vain. And now-because of him-I was on equal footing as my opponent. I too could control the dragons and I had just taken one of his. Who's weak now? This was one more victory for me and it was time to get the last.

I took a step forward, then another, looking squarely into the eyes of the dragon. No hate or malice shone in his eyes, just a neutral and almost friendly sort of light, a friend instead of a foe. It was strange in that he wasn't Odahviing, Paarthurnax or Durnehviir-familiar friends and allies. He wasn't a dragon that had pledged to assist me freely and of their volition. No, I had taken that right and made him an ally. It was a terrifying shout and I hoped the dragon before me took no offense to my control, hoping that I would prove to be a better master than his first.

I took the final step and smoothed a hand down his scales-his smooth, blue scales. The green light of Apocrypha glinted off the surface of his skin, illuminating it, and I found myself staring.

"..."

My gaze darted over to meet the dragon's whose stare I felt upon me. He was simply waiting, patient as he waited for my next course action.

I moved to climb abroad, hefting myself up with a breath. We sat for a second before he moved. The air stirred once more and we were up, the wind rustling every part of me as his great wings soared us up higher into the sky. I fixed the way I sat so that I could look down and around comfortably as we flew. Looking down had the murky depths of this realm staring up at me as it bubbled and hissed. I hated the way this water-or burning, black sludge-looked. It was too slimy, too dark, too sinister. And it hurt-provided you fell in that is. It had happened to me once, and never again did I want to repeat that experience.

"Beware, Miraak is strong," The dragon began, worry in his tone. "He knew you would come here." That was said solemnly.

I looked forward, lips thinning to a line as the sight of a great, dark tower loomed ahead. Apprehension came suddenly, but I worked on shoving it aside.

"Thank you, I appreciate all of this..." I trailed off, not knowing the Dov's name, he was quick to offer it however.

"Sahrotaar."

I smiled, glad to have a name. A connection was being forged. "Thank you, Sahrotaar..." He inclined his head as if nodding and continued his flight. My fists closed and opened with a breath.

The tower was closer now and the sudden sense of apprehension I was feeling grew.

Sahrotaar spoke once more just before we descended, a final piece of advice-or perhaps noted observation that was meant to soothe me. "Your thu'um is stronger than Miraak's."

I blinked, my smile softening as something about his words touched me. A small laugh bubbled up from me, abrupt and unexpected.

"Thank you again, Sahrotaar."

He said nothing as the tower came before us, a landing away. The presence of two more dragons permeated my senses, yelling for my attention. I regarded the way they felt before my attention shifted to the presence of another with a soul much like mine.

I looked down.

Golden mask and dulled robes. It was Miraak, Dragon Priest and Betrayer.

His gaze flew up, cursory and slow, regarding me as if I was nothing more but a wasp. Even from this distance I felt the contempt and scorn of his stare, weighted and violating, predatory. Our gazes held for a moment or two, and then he was looking away, clearly deeming me a non-threat as he dismissed my presence. He began a slow walk toward the place of Sahrotaar's landing.

"Sahrotaar," He began, his accented voice sounding vaguely amused in its arrogance as he asked, "are you so easily swayed?"

The two other dragons he mastered glided down a few feet, flanking their master from up above. He addressed them. "No. Not yet. We should greet our guest first." This was said mockingly, sending hot spears of vexation and offense through me.

Sahrotaar landed and I dismounted. I gave Sahrotaar one last look and pat before moving forward, hoping he went and did not stay for the battle. I stepped forward, clutching my scabbard, my gaze focused solely on the man who sauntered and stepped toward me, his strides slow and measured, unworried and unhurried in its nature as if there was no danger, no threat looming before him. Sahrotaar said he had been expecting me, and yet he was so casual-so confident that the emotion dripped out from him in pure, unfettered streams. He exuded arrogance, exuded a conceit so apparent it blinded. He clearly expected to win this duel-him emerging as the true victor whereas I would be the loser with a soul gone.

I took in a breath, feeling the icy coolness that came just before a battle's start descend. I sometimes described it as the core of my emotions enveloping me, wrapping around as negative emotions took hold with an icy numbness that focused and centered me, making me cold in turn so that I could carry out a task with deadly efficiency. I found the sheet colder than usual as we two Dragonborn continued to move toward the stage of our end, Miraak's voice smooth as "And so the First Dragonborn meets the Last Dragonborn at the summit of Apocrypha," escaped his lips.

He paused, and I waited. "No doubt just as Hermaeus Mora intended." He added, a scoff sounding as if he had uttered a sad, but funny fact one could not help.

"He is a fickle master, you know." There was a sort of disgust to his tone as he climbed the stairs up to the center, as if the statement he had issued was greatly underrated and of great disappointment to him. He continued, surety oozing, "But now I will be free of him. My time in Apocrypha is over." He stopped.

The sound of wings drew my attention from him to raised arches. Two dragons sat perched, one on each, the pair of them looking down at me with malice, excited and fevered, no doubt ready to devour their own piece of me-just as hungry as their master was for me, if not more.

I looked back at Miraak.

"You are here in your full power," the dark of his eyes sparked, the light in them menacing and sharp, "and thus are subject to my full power. With the power of your soul, I will return to Solstheim and be master of my own fate again."

He looked off to the side and then back to me, casually speaking his next words with such finality. "You will die." I took my last and final step before stopping. Our gazes locked.

He turned away from me, raising his arms. "Kruziikrel! Relonikiv! Now!"

His dragons flew into the air, wings spread. I spread my feet, unsheathed my blade and launched into action, thinking of possibly putting my new Shout to use as I thought I would be fighting the dragons first.

"MUL QAH DIIV!"

Miraak was quick to use the shout. Golden, orange and blue light swirling and outlining the dragon he was inside. My gaze flew to him, surprised by the sudden shout and light. He was just as he appeared the first time we met. He moved and I found myself jumping back with a step, dodging an upcoming attack, an attack that came from him. So I wasn't going to be fighting the dragons first-no, Miraak wanted me all to himself. With a sharp blink, I rolled to my right as a bolt of lightning singed the space beside me.

I blinked even further when he advanced again with such speed. I found my teeth gritting as I could only dodge and evade his slashes and bouts of magic. He was a formidable opponent, had I really expected less? Attack after attack, spells and blade, lightning fast moves born from years of ancient experience and grace. He had me falling back, my arms clenching and legs moving as I dodged or countered move after move. I was clearly on the defensive rather than offensive, and I found myself not liking it. Was this how others felt when they face my blade? I parried a strike and sucked in a breath, finding myself use the same shout he had used moments ago.

"MUL QAH DIIV!"

The power and protection of Dragon Aspect surrounded me, I nearly stopped to marvel as its golden light surged and traced-it was my first time using the shout, I wondered how I looked. Did I look the same as my opponent? Was the dragon within me outlined? And would I now be as strong-as fast as Miraak?

I swung and smiled when a hit finally connected. A grunt of pain, and I rushed to deliver another hit, keen on being quick. Another sound of pain-and even surprise- escaped him and I smirked. I pushed forward, swung once more and was astonished when sword met air. With a shout, Miraak disappeared or rather he had sped away so quickly it seemed as if he had disappeared. Barely able to track it, I saw as he darted over to a pool and allowed slips of darkness to consume him.

Wait, what?

I looked around, gaze darting as I strove to find my opponent. What was he doing? The sound of movement reached my ears and I spun around to find him emerging from the center pool.

I ran for him, but realized he was intangible. I stopped, not because of that one reason, but because a dragon had touched down, landing and shaking the ground. Now was I to fight him? I set my feet, more than prepared to face the red dragon so that I could get to my true opponent. What happened next startled me into stillness.

The dragon turned away from me, its movements jerking as it looked toward its master. A shout resounded, and with it the dragon dissipated, scales flayed and scattering in the wind, bones settling onto the ground. Light sprang, iridescent swirls flowing toward Miraak, the dragon's soul taken and ripped with just one shout. Divines, he just...

I had no time to think let alone dwell upon what I had just saw because Miraak was on the move, revitalized by the deceased dragon's energy.

Our dance continued, me slashing and deflecting, him defending then attacking, me dodging and spinning back, and all with the addition and inclusion of magic and shouts. We were each trying to do what the other wanted. Kill the other. A fragile moment of defense made itself known to me and I turned my blade, hoping to penetrate it. I hissed in a breath when my blade met nothing. Miraak had grown unsubstantial once more, dodging my blade. Swish and it had met air.

I directed my gaze toward the center pool. He had appeared there once, so why not again? Surely he emerged, and a second dragon fell to his shout, scales flying, bones dropping once more. Another soul taken. By this time fine sweat ran down my skin and coated me. I was actually growing exhausted, drained by this to and fro dodging, this to and fro fighting. We were too much on the same foot to reach an end. Fatigued, I wanted this to be over.

Blades met once more, sparking against each other. I grunted and pressed on, moving quicker now. He landed a hit, blade penetrating through armor, birthing a wound. I jumped back, ignoring the small lance of pain that shot through me. I clutched my wound and glared to find blood when I extracted my hand. I looked up ahead. I sensed a smug smile lurking beneath the mask and felt it so clearly it actually had me seething.

This needed to end. We couldn't keep at this forever. Couldn't keep up injuring the other slowly but surely, but not completely. Evading and dodging. Surviving and continuing. We couldn't! I grew horrified at the thought-the thought that we were possibly so matched up we could go at it forever. Oh Divines no. Let me find an end to this.

As if my prayer was suddenly answered, a sharp shout resounded behind me and the air boomed. I blinked, gaze darting to my right as an apparition appeared before me, ghostly axe poised. Shock came. Just what was going on? I-who was this?

An ancient Dragonborn, something was quick to supply in my mind. I had to stop myself from gaping as the ancient charged, his target apparent. Miraak didn't look surprised- if anything I felt annoyance trickle from him. We differed in feeling. I was far from annoyed, I found joy lancing through me as I realized that I wasn't alone, that I wouldn't be alone. I had help, and with help the battle would soon be over, all the more better for me. I took a breath before joining the ancient that had been advancing on the priest. I joined in with a slash, and the ancient shouted. Confident, I slashed once more, the ancient only helping me.

More annoyance spilled from Miraak, signaling to me that we were wearing him down. Just as I charged to deliver what I hoped to be the final blow, the ancient disappeared, unable to stay forever. I continued on despite that, no longer needing a companion. Just as my blade would have cleaved straight through, Miraak disappeared once again.

Stop him before he takes another soul! My mind was quick to shout. I ran forward, keen on trying to somehow stop Miraak before he killed another dragon-as there was only one more left for him to use. Sahrotaar. I raced ahead, not wanting the blue dragon to fall, but the sharp sound of wings had me turning to find him descending. Terror rose, wind stirred, and I mentally shouted, No. No!

"Sahrotaar, no!" I raised my arms and waved, hoping to fend him off as I ran toward him. "Don't touch down! Get away!" I screamed. But it was too late. I was forced to scramble back as he touched down, lest he crush me. Time froze as I saw-or imagined-his gaze meeting mine a split second before he mechanically turned to face Miraak. His eyes had relayed some sort of message I could not decipher, but a sadness and regret in them had shone clear. My eyes grew wide as a shout sounded, ripping free a soul with just a few words. Life's essence stripped away, and Miraak was renewed once again. I felt something in me break, dark emotion spilling free.

Ice gave way to fire.

Moving faster than before, I was before Miraak, slashing, striking, and hitting-using emotion as a tool to sharpen my assault. Then an idea came. Something sparked, thoughts connected, and words formed. I had an idea, an odd idea, but one nonetheless.

Maybe I didn't have to fight Miraak. Not when I could control him.

I jumped back and gathered myself, inhaling sharply and shouting, "GOL HAH DOV!"

Astonishment when the same shout left his lips the very moment they left mine. Energy boomed, hitting us both, yet nothing happened. Only an invisible, but harmless force pushed me back. Mouth agape that it hadn't worked, I could only move to dodge an attack, sent scrambling to the side to dodge another flying, writhing mass of tentacles Miraak sent forward. I should have expected it to fail. Why had I thought it would work? I cursed myself and dodged yet another writhing mass of darkness.

I charged, running as I thought I would end this now- faking a left, going right and slashing, satisfied to feel and hear my blade mar. I didn't allow him to react or move before delivering another strong blow. Then another, then another. Just as I felt he was to fall to my blade, he disappeared. Yet another disappearance. My blade hit the ground and my teeth gritted. My chest heaved sharp breaths and my arms shook with an effort to raise them.

"Coward!" I hissed between breaths. I straightened up, long knowing I was to turn to face the center pool. If he rose to face me that is. Did he have to keep running? Disappearing? I was fighting him head-on yet he was the one running away every time I got close to ending him. But wasn't that a strategic thing to do? Yes, it was, but if you expect a fight where you emerged victor, where you were the supposed stronger one, would you run? Or simply take down your prey without a second glance? You would do just that, unless you noticed along the way that you would lose.

I waited.

He made his appearance, though his form was slow to rise. When it emerged, it was yanked up sharply. What? I could only watch as Miraak was plucked up into the air by some unknown force, grappling with it as he hovered prone and unmoving.

Black holes dotted with yellow all-knowing eyes popped into the sky, gaze focused solely on Miraak, tentacles floating as the Prince of Knowledge and Memories addressed his first champion in a harrowing hiss.

"Did you think to escape me, Miraak?" His typically smooth voice was terrifying, chilling me to the bone as I watched in silent horror-feeling the sense that something terribly wrong was unfolding right before my eyes, a shocking event worthy of tales.

"You can hide nothing from me here." He hissed. "No matter," The Prince continued, horrifying hiss being replaced by a calm smoothness, "I have found a new Dragonborn to serve me."

He meant me. I was the new Dragonborn. Did he mean to-

"Ggh!"

Something like protest escaped the pinned Priest as he attempted to move to no avail. I felt anger streaming off from him as he struggled-anger and surprise.

A tentacle shot up-sharp and piercing as it went straight through the Priest's chest, impaling. A gasp left me just as a choked sound left Miraak and blood spilled.

Shock coursed through me. I could only stand doe-eyed and stunned, expecting none of this as I questioned just what was happening.

Everything went slow, time freezing as I fragmented.

I divided, thoughts charging. A selfish part of me was shrieking in outrage, indignant that Hermaeus was taking the liberty to finish Miraak off. He was taking my finishing blow, it argued, my finishing blow. It made me feel like a child whose prized toy was being whipped away.

Miraak struggled, looking as if he was attempting to move his arms to clutch the black protrusion stabbing through his chest. More blood spilled.

He was going to die now, not exactly by my hand, but Mora's. He would be dead, no longer able to inflict pain, torture or suffering-just as planned, just as promised.

My morality screamed against that though. Finding and yelling against the injustice that existed in Hermaeus suddenly killing his once faithful servant without a second chance. A voice whispered, save him.I blinked, not understanding its order, refusing it even.

No, he has to die, a part of me countered. He has to. It was the efficient and pragmatic side of me-the side that would allow Mora to finish him, for Mora to do it, for it did not matter who did it so long as the deed was selfish, dark part of me I loathed came again, continuing to scream for Hermaeus to release Miraak at once so that I could kill him.

The strange voice rose once more, stronger now.

Save him!

My hands shook. Where was that thought coming from? Why would I want to save the one who wished to end me just for his own gain? It was stupid for me to want such a thing-do such a thing, yet…

Save him.

I was trembling. My knees felt weak. I can't, I shouldn't.

Save him... the voice pleaded desperately now. I stifled a hysterical laugh bubbling up my throat. Great, not only was I thinking of saving an adversary, I was talking to myself like a madman. Is this how Sheograth felt all the time? It was most likely worse, and I didn't know how the Mad Prince could handle it. Then again I didn't know how I could handle all this.

Well if you're going to do something do it! yelled logic. It was right, if I was going to do something, I was going to have to do it now. Either let Miraak die or...or save him...

This was all ludicrous! I was wavering. All when I knew in my heart Miraak should die, and that it didn't matter if it was by my hands or Hermaeus'. Yet I was hesitating. Why? Because of one simple voice? No- it hit me then with a clarity so startling, I knew why I was wavering.

I was wavering because he was the same as me. He was the same as me, and-and I was lonely. He was Dragonborn-like me. Of the same soul, of the same existence. He was an anomaly, a rarity...kin. I was being forced to end him when I wanted to be his savior, when I wanted to save him. Had I wanted that all along?

Revelation shook.

Because he was just like me, because he knew, knew how it felt to be both dragon and man, knew of the pain it came with, the struggle, and the loneliness-loneliness that was strong and crushing, destructive and churning because no one could understand you if they weren't like you- my soul cried out to save him.

I wanted to save him because I also wanted to save myself. I wouldn't be alone if I did. I would not be the only Dragonborn, the only one who could save the world. Salvation for me would be salvation for him. For I would not have to shoulder any responsibilities ever again, I would not have to bear all my destinies.

Never have two Dragonborn existed within the same time-as far as I knew-and never would there be another time. Something made me sure of that. The First and Last would never meet again, and I would be missing a golden opportunity if I let him die. If I saved him I would be changing fate as we knew it-the world as we knew it, and doing it a favor, for two Dragonborn would exist and I would have someone like me.

Someone like me... I relished the thought.

I knew what I had to do.

Decision made and impulse guiding me, the voice that begged to save took over and pushed to action. I experienced a moment of fracture as I moved. Both watching and doing. I watched as I darted across the space between me and the floating Miraak. Watched as I leapt and slashed down. And felt the moment I sliced right through the sinuous and insidious tendril that held Miraak.

A noise like no other filled the realm, the Dark Prince screaming-a horrendous and earth shattering sound of outrage and pain. Perhaps the holy edge my sword pained him. His howl had me wincing, fear spiked but I had no time feel it as I spun around and launched forward to catch a falling Miraak.

I caught him in my arms, skidding across the ground with his weight in my arms. The wind was knocked out from me. I heard what sounded like a wheezing laugh and croak escape and I swung an arm of his over my shoulder, holding onto it as I wrapped my other arm around his waist, and hefted us both up with a groan, trying to adjust to our combined weight.

What now? How to escape? There was no Black Book around for me to read and the only other way to escape here was to die, but... if I escaped with Miraak through death, would he come with me or remain stuck here? He had said he wasn't able to leave the realm without the power of my soul. So how were we to escape?

I looked at him, no sound escaped him now. I couldn't even hear him breathe. Was he unconscious? My gaze traveled to see if his chest rose and fell with breath, but instead found a hole and blood-blood escaping from the gaping wound in his chest, flowing out and falling to the ground in streams. My breath hitched. I paled. We had to go now.

Think Myrena, think! My mind scrambled for an escape route that would ensure our survival. I yelped when a large tendril of slime came to whip me, thoughts interrupted. I hefted Miraak further into my arms, so that all his weight was leaning upon me, and moved, running from the present obstacles that Hermaeus was putting in my way. Lurkers, Seekers, paper, servants and the like.

I strove to persevere, large tufts of air escaping me as I urged myself not to look toward the Daedric Prince that was now yelling obscenities at me. Tentacle after tentacle came to trip, catch or snare me, but I held firmly onto Miraak, running faster now.

Think! Think! He's bleeding out!

I was driven to the edge of the tower with my to and fro dodging, wind whipping the back of my neck as Lurkers and Seekers of all kinds surrounded me in a half-circle, advancing. They stalked toward me and my charge, tentacles of all sizes slithering in the background. The outrage the Prince felt left me frozen, for his mood had affected the skies and area, the green sky now black and spitting, once peaceful papers, gliding and sweeping, now multiplied in quantity and slicing disks.

I couldn't fight, not with a weakened Miraak in my arms. I looked behind me and nearly staggered, my hold on the Priest nearly loosening. More than a few feet below the murky, acidic depths of Apocrypha's water smiled up at me, treacherous and beckoning. I looked back to the Seekers and Lurkers in front of me. It was either them and their Prince or... I looked back down at the murky depths. That.

I wasn't sure what to do, but had to act now. It was not like I could talk to and confer with the silent, bleeding Priest for his opinion. It was solely up to me to decide. I had to chance it.

It's now or never.

I looked back at my opponents, deciding that I would not attempt them, and used a half-hearted shout to push them back. I turned, tightening my hold on Miraak, and took a few steps backward so I had momentum for my run and jump. A shout was used to propel us faster into the waiting, dark waters.

I couldn't help it. I screamed, screamed at the sight of the darkness rushing up to meet us.

We landed, smacking against the burning acid, sliding right through. The force in which we landed jarred me, slamming the air out of my lungs. I figured the impact alone should have killed me, but it hadn't. Thick liquid began to fill my lungs now and I choked. My limbs grew heavy...

I couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't move.

Can't breathe, need air... I would have moved to claw for air, but tried to maintain my hold on Miraak-focusing on that as I reached out my hand, feeling for him for our landing had separated us.

My lungs burned, fire seizing my skin and veins. My body screamed for the one thing that would allievate the pain. Air! Air! It was too much. Pressure built.

My mouth opened in one final, wordless cry and I choked, falling to darkness as I lost consciousness.

Author's Note

1/26/13: Oh my god, this first chapter is officially over 9,000 (says in intense Vegeta voice). It's actually about 9,800+ (when it was originally about 6,000+ or 7,000+ gibe or take) and this was after I edited. I'm a monster. I chose to do so because I found myself not at all liking some parts of what I wrote. The first chapter I gave most of you was a bit rushed in my opinion and I did not take the time I should have taken. I did not write as well as I should have and I apologize for that. Hopefully the changes I brought in are noticeable. I guess this edited chapter is a present to myself for today LOL. Sorry if it's bad even wth edits... Again, thank you for reading this and jesus christ you're a trooper if you stuck through all this. The other chapters will hopefully-I mean definitely-be shorter. What is attention to length LOL. Thank you once again, and please read and review if you can! I want to improve.

6/6/13: Well here we go, the long-awaited beginning and first chapter of Two Dragonborn! I apologize to all who waited! I was just so swamped with school and everything and could only work on small bits and pieces throughout the long, hard months. I am, however, free now! School has ended and with that I am absolutely free, well, excluding the fact that I have two summer projects to complete for my classes next year. Even though the beginning says it's the prologue, you can consider this chapter the prologue+ first chapter. The prologue portion was only the Skaal village part, other than that everything else is the first chapter. I really hoped you all enjoyed this! Please review and tell me how you liked it (or didn't like it LOL?). I really hoped this was a good read and I really hope that you want me to continue! I also hope the length wasn't too much, if it is I apologize! I'll try to keep length in mind next time. Once again, thank you! Feedback is much welcomed. Ciao! :)