AN: Okay, so I decide to make a miniseries that may answer a few questions I received about my Dragonborn story arcs...mostly questions about the gap between the Miraak story arc and the fic I have planned for hundreds of years afterwards (see my profile if you aren't sure what I am babbling about :P)
It's also because it's a fun thing to do while writing and planning for future chapters. obviously, there will be some spoilers so you have been warned ;D
One year.
For one year, no one has seen or heard a whisper from the Dragonborn. For one year, the bandits have gotten braver, the necromancers exit their caves in search of fresh victims and the foul creatures that roam Skyrim gain ground on our doorsteps.
One may assume that I place all these faults at the hand of the missing Dragonborn. In truth, I was sent to this cold and harsh land to find answers, and in the process, perhaps find a kernel of truth in a burlap sack of guesses and contradictions.
I only pray that the truth is not as terrible as the people claim it is.
Malyn Dravis' Journal, 4E247, Riverwood.
"A scholar, huh? Fine. Take a seat, and for the love of Talos, don't put your fingers or toes in the water. Blasted Slaughterfish are spawning this time of year."
Malyn Dravis nodded and did as instructed, taking a seat besides the old man. It had taken him months to get from Cyrodiil to Skyrim, thanks to the bandit strongholds that had sprung up along the border. He held his amusement at the irony.
A series of fortifications that held the finest of the Aldmeri Dominions armies at bay, now serves as an almost impregnable fortress for thieves, vagabonds and the general scum of the lower classes.
In fact, it was only due to the assistance of a strange Dunmer who had led him through a few secret passages through the Pale Pass that he had managed to enter Skyrim at all. The moment they were safely past the border, she had vanished the second he passed the three rubies into her palms.
Thieves. Always a problem.
Still, he had made it. The Synod had chosen him for the investigation that had them all scrambling for answers. And hopefully, this elderly man would provide the answers they sought.
"Sir, I have a few questions, if I may…"
"Huh. Figures. Go on, I am getting older just waiting for you."
Malyn blinked and ignored the rude response, taking out his notebook and bracing himself.
"My thanks. As I mentioned, I am from the Synod, an organisation based from Cyrodiil. We have cause for concern that the disappearance of the famed 'Dragonborn' is responsible for the increased bandit numbers across Skyrim and Cyrodiil, as well as numerous civil wars springing up across Tamriel."
The old man snorted, pulling back on his fishing rod, his muscled arms straining against whatever he had caught beneath the stunning water that ran through Riverwood. Malyn allowed an eyebrow to raise higher. This man was surely in his seventies but he was still in excellent shape.
"Figures," he muttered the second time, glancing at the young man sitting beside him. "Here to bitch and complain about her even after everything she did for us?"
"I am here to set the facts straight, nothing more," Malyn replied calmly. "While Morgan Aurelius did much for every mortal in Tamriel, there is also evidence that she is also responsible for the many sufferings of others."
The old man shook his head.
"All it took was forty or so years before people wanted blood from her. She never asked for her gifts, she never asked to be the saviour of every man, woman and child. Alduin. Harkon. The fucking Thalmor. And the second she decides to leave society, you people get your daggers out and aim for her back!"
Malyn said nothing for a moment, wondering why the old man was so angry. It was the truth after all. She had done more for the common good than most. But she did need to take responsibility for her actions, just like anyone else.
"So you knew her."
A sigh. The man let go of his rod, which flew into the water along with whatever had been on the other end. He stared at his gnarled hands before glaring at the nonplussed scholar.
"Aye. And proudly."
Malyn nodded for him to continue.
"Met her in Helgen."
The man smiled in memory.
"Proper little spitfire. Took down sixteen Stormcloaks in the caverns. Watched her as she became the warrior of legend. How she recovered after her defeat of the World-Eater and sought a quieter life. Her awakening of a powerful and ancient vampire who turned her and yet even that never sapped her humanity..."
He sighed again, heavier than before.
"But when she returned from Solstheim...she had changed. It was subtle at first. She still laughed, still flirted and made everyone else get jealous as a result. But her eyes...Even an idiot could see that the poor girl had gone through something even worse than what a god could throw at her..."
Malyn coughed for him to continue, wondering if choosing this relic of a man was a good idea after all.
"She became angrier, more volatile. Serana had shared my concern but also explained that only she could move past this anger. She is part dragon after all."
Malyn frowned now. Dragons were a menace even after all these years. And every single message and plea for assistance for the Dragonborn's help was always met with silence. He did not doubt that it was because of the dragons overwhelming attacks on the Summerset Isles that the Second Great War was as decisive as it had been decades ago. But they answered to no-one and always refused a summons from even the most powerful mage or Elder Council member.
"I always wonder if she could forgive these people who besmirch her name. Perhaps she may do so, given the chance. I don't blame her for leaving like she did though. In fact, I..."
"You saw her? Recently?"
"Stop interrupting me, cub," the old man chuckled. "She would hate you just for the way you talk to others. And no, it's been two years since I saw her last. Right there in fact."
Malyn turned his gaze over to where the finger was pointing, and shuddered slightly at the ruins that could be seen high in the mountains.
"Bleak Falls Barrow, where it all began. Where the little dragon grew up," he said proudly, a small tear dripping from his one remaining eye.
Malyn flinched. The light from the sun and water had hidden the cloudy orb from view. It had also hidden the scar tissue that surrounded it, as well as the tell tale sign of an enchanted arrow wound just below the eye socket.
"Old war wound," he chuckled harshly. "Fucking archer with one of their fancy arrows got me in the face while I was defending Whiterun. It was Morgan who dragged my fat arse away from the carnage, put out the fire on my face and helped me survive the days that followed."
Malyn heard the unspoken words that signalled the interview was over, and he stood up, brushing off his robes before glaring at the old man dressed in tattered Legion armour, his one eye twinkling in amusement.
"You have no idea where she went? None at all?"
"No. The girl deserves her peace seeing she has led a lifetime of stopping wars rather than starting them."
"It was because of her that the Dominion attacked Skyrim with more than sixty percent of their forces," Malyn pointed out.
"Aye. And it was because of her that the elves screamed for mercy when the dragons swooped down on them, with her at the lead. Magic and that blade of hers, carving through ranks of mere mortals...a grand moment in my life, one I shall rejoice in when Sovngarde calls for me."
Malyn scoffed.
"That's not what our best selling book describes. Here, perhaps you may gain some enlightenment from this," he replied, digging into his backpack and throwing a thick book at the old man, who caught it easily and chuckled at him.
"Oh yes, I remember this book. The Dragonborn's Falsehood. I recall using the pages after a particularly bad attempt at eating wolf stew. Bloody hunters leaving the meat out in the sun too long."
Malyn snarled in distaste.
"Yup, made a right mess of my breeches that did, but that book saved my life!"
The scholar made to turn and walk away before the old man called his name.
"Hey, Dravis!"
"Yes?"
"You never asked for my name. That's what you do, isn't it? Ask for peoples 'accounts' and then 'credit' them afterwards?"
He ignored the wheezy chuckle from the old man before conceding his point.
"Fine. I shall record your name in the books in recognition for your services."
The old man stood up and it was then that Malyn realised that this old man was a figure that many war veterans talked about, even after all this time. The body build was not as frail as most would be at that age. The armour, while tattered, had the sigil of a dragon emblazoned on the front.
A white dragon.
A member of the Dragonguard. The elite soldiers that had served Skyrim with distinction during the first Thalmor invasion attempt, and the soldiers who had only take orders from two people. One was the Dragonborn of course, the other was High Queen Elisif the Fair, who still remained Queen to this day.
So this man, this old man from Riverwood...
"Hadvar..." Malyn muttered.
Hadvar smiled before shuffling away, his laughter increasing with every step. Malyn stood there for a few seconds before smiling himself. Hadvar hadn't been the most cooperative person but he had given him a fresh lead for his investigation.
Turning smartly on his heel, he made for the stables, where his white horse was patiently waiting for him, an attendant straining to keep the spirited beast at ease. Taking the reins and hoisting himself onto the saddle, he took off northwest, ignoring the stable boys squawk of disapproval.
Next stop, Solitude...and perhaps ask why Hadvar and the Dragonborn met just before she vanished.
So, that's the first chapter done, feel free to leave a comment or use the private message is you have any questions...and to those who are expecting the next chapter of Ashen Souls, I am working on that as well ;)
