Softly Now the Falling Snow
Prologue: Skyrim's Crumble
A Skyrim story.
Growing up in the snow laden terrain of Tamerial incases me in the stories of lore. I grew up on the tales; things like the dragons and their priests trapped in an eternal struggle and the wispmothers who snatch children from their beds; the Hammerfell dwellers and the extinction of the dwarves; most important of all, the prophecy of the ages. The very rhyme that states our demise at the hands of the all-powerful dragon Alduin. At a young age, I grasp onto the sliver of hope that a man with a dragon's soul would be born: Dragonborn. But as I grew older, my father insisted the stories were nothing but nonsense. None of it was true. My mother took it to heart and whisked herself into her merchant trade. She had been the one to stay up with me late at night, reading from leather bound books near the candle light. I lived a pretty good life, due to her expertise in the merchant's trade.
The day finally came however that my father's constant nagging came to an end. He, and the rest of us, came to witness the prophecy unfold.
In the shadow of ashes, black wings come unfurled and a roar shatters the darkness. It was Alduin, King of Banes, with a hunger to swallow the world. Helgen fell that dreadful day in a storm of smoldering fires in the wake of Alduin's first assault against a Nord settlement. I never heard another story from my mother again. She had been trading that morning at Helgen no less and died in the blaze like everyone else except for two men; an imperial with relatives from the neighboring settlement of Riverwood and the fabled Dovahkiin, the Dragonborn. Alduin's legend has returned and so has his vanquisher so there is nothing to worry about right?
It didn't take long for the Dragonborn's pride lead him to drunkenness and cockiness soon followed. The next day the Dovahkiin was found sprawled out on the ground, lifeless like the whole town of Helgen. Arcadia attempted pouring so many concoctions into his mouth, but nothing seemed to work. I remember that day almost perfectly. The morning sun was just now pouring over the horizon. I was out early, playing as the town courier to collect a few pieces of gold. The cobble clatters under my feet as I head for the Bannered Mare and its owner Hulda. I was almost there, sprinting past Belathor's as a burst of excitement bursts into my system. There was so many tales going around that the Dragonborn had come to Whiterun at last! My tunic sways in the wind as the debris collects in a cloud that showers on a guard stationed nearby. My bag which is slowly tearing at the seams bounces in time with my movements as I cross the plaza. My hands touch the door, ready to open it and reveal the fabled Dragonborn when I hear a gasp.
I knew who it was. Carlotta Valentina. Spinning around quickly, I feel my back slam into the door, like the force of the shock had knocked me back. Trembling, I stand there as Carlotta motions for guards and other merchants. A body lay in front of her, foaming at the mouth. His face is distorted in some sort of expression of pain, and his sword is drawled beside him. He had been stripped of all valuables he had earned with the title like Dovahkiin. I couldn't believe. The air is sucked from my lungs, making me take in tiny gasps. My legs give out. I find myself sitting in front of the Bannered Mare's entrance, watching as one guard runs into Arcadia's Cauldron, and the other runs for Farengar. Arcadia of course reaches the scene of the crime first, carrying a set of elixirs in her hand. Popping the corks out of each one, she drizzles the contents into his mouth, but to no avail.
"Please move out of my way, I need room to work." Farengar calls from the top of the staircase, using quick strides to reach the bottom and the Dragonborn's body.
Arcadia, Carlotta, and several curious children are knocked out of the court wizard's way, breaking the containers of the alchemist's potions in the process. The liquids run together, forming a black puddle beside the Dovahkiin's helmetless head. A little girl staggers after the wizard, wearing the same heavy material as a mage. It only took one step and she was sent sprawling into the ebony mix. My heart beats speratically in my ears as I manage to form one word that was no louder than Farengar's incantation.
"Alduin…"
I never delivered the letter that day. I fled for my house immediately after. My father question what had happen, but I had already thrown myself into my room. I pound at the pillows, screaming into the sheets, feeling betrayed by the one person I put all my hope in. He disgraced the Nords and all of Skyrim! I tangle myself up, sputtering things I never will repeat. The tears came soon after, drenching my bed in sorrow. My mother and I had believed in the Dragonborn, and now he will forever rot in a grave. The story had finally been proven true and he ruined it! He destroyed the prophecy! The Wheel has to turn on the last Dragonborn! But now he is gone. Alduin will swallow the world!
My father secluded himself after that, muttering things like the stories were actually true. He had found out about the poisoning when he took a trip up to Dragonsreach. He also learned that I had come to witness the lifeless body. He forbade me from couriering ever again, giving me no chance to make money. Food on the table was scarce and many times I sought refuge at my friend's house. My father on the other dinned with fine meals with the Jarl, having been made the new Steward when the other fell ill. I felt more alone than anything. My mother had been one of my best friends. Since she died, my whole life has changed for the worse. Everything has been going in a downhill spiral, leaving me broken in its wake.
This went on for seven years, until my eighteenth birthday rolled in like the spring that melted Skyrim's trademark snow away. There is no point tucked away in the walls of Whiterun anymore.
Alduin is free, the Greybeards are slaughtered, and the Dragon Priests wander the world. It's only a matter of time before all of Tamerial falls. Might as well live life while I can. Not much time remains.
Likes?
-Soul Spirit-