Fallen Dragon

"Stars don't fall for men. Red comet means one thing, boy. Dragons."

At the summit of Apocrypha, Daedric Realm of Hermaeus Mora where all knowledge is said to be hoarded two powers that could shake creation clashed in the name of a single, all encompassing thing.

Fate.

The two locked in combat were the first and last of their lines. Born eras apart and with minds matching that difference. And with a thundering shock that seemed to shake the entirety of the Daedric plane the battle continued.

Miraak slid across the floor off the summit. Shoulders shaking with both rage and exhaustion as he lifted what was left of his staff, now only half of what it had been. He discarded it with a grunt and gripped his sword in both hands now as he spaced his feet apart evenly to observe his opponent.

The Last Dragoborn. Miraak was the first. He was centuries ahead in talent, in skill and had spent those centuries in the realm of forbidden knowledge learning all there was to be learned about the Thu'um, of Dragons and powers that mortals could never hope to understand.

So how in Oblivion am I losing?! Miraak seethed as he watched his gasping enemy, the Last Dragonborn, take another gasping breath before standing back to his full Nordic height, easily on level with Miraak.

Miraak's robes clashed with the Last's own Dragonscale armor. Beyond that you would be hard pressed to believe they weren't the same being. Both were cloaked in the Dragon Aspect, the glowing scales covering their bodies in ephemeral protection, giving them better reserves for stamina and increasing the power of their already considerable Thu'um.

The Last looked at his shattered great sword, the blade was warped from battle and what edge was left was dulled from trying to penetrate the ephemeral scales protecting Miraak. He tossed it to the side and held his hand out, whispering an incantation and with a flourish of magical energy a bound Daedric blade appeared in his waiting hand. He reaching behind himself and took hold of his dragon bone shield.

He raised both and slowly, his panting ceased and his lips curled into a smirk. "Tired, Miraak?"

That smug voice, that mocking confidence and those insufferable determined eyes! Miraak stilled his own panting and stood at his full height and flourished his blade with one arm while the other raised to produce a powerful lightning spell. He rose to his rival's taunt. "Less so than you, I fear."

"Good," The Last stepped forward and his mocking expression steeled. "I'm just starting to enjoy this!"

"Then I'll end your joy!" Miraak snarled.

"Wuld!"

Both became blurs and with the force of two full grown Dovah's slamming together mid flight they clashed with such force that a ripple of power scattered the very bones of the three dragons that Miraak and The Last had devoured to heal themselves. They pressed against the other with supernatural strength and snarled like the beasts their blood came from.

"You cannot win!" Miraak strained as he held the handle of his blade with both hands to keep the Last from getting even a centimeter of ground against him. "I have devoured hundreds of Dovah! I am the first of us and have spent centuries in this realm of forbidden knowledge!"

"I defeated Alduin, slew a man who would seek vengeance against a God and sacked an entire city of rebellious fanatics single-handedly!" The Last pressed forward with renewed strength. "I slew dozens of dovah in single combat! I slew hundreds more warriors!"

Their muscles strained against the other, refusing to give.

"Fus…" The First and Last inhaled deeply, gathering their soul for another powerful Thu'um. "Ro Dah!"

Together they shouted point blank at their opponent. And for an instant the two powerful Thu'um met in a swirling mass of kinetic energy that swirled between them before violently pressing outwards with twice the power. Both Dragonborn were flung back so far they slammed into the cage surrounding the summit. Their ephemeral scales shattered like glass and they slid to the floor where they slumped in pained exhaustion.

"Old Mora is laughing at us…" Miraak scoffed bitterly as he lifted his masked face to peer at the Last across from him, even in the drained, low tone of voice he spoke with he could tell the other had heard perfectly well.

And the strained chuckle was all Miraak got.

"He can laugh and drink mead for all I care…" The Last reached an arm up and wrapped his fingers around the cage behind him and with a groan pulled himself back to his feet, blood coated his lips and he spat out a good wad of saliva and crimson. "He doesn't matter here. This is between you… and me." he wiped his mouth and tossed his shield aside.

He produced two bound swords and twirled them in his hands as he stepped forward with a slight stagger.

Miraak watched the display and felt just an inkling of grudging admiration for the Last in their line as he took forced himself up using his sword as a cane briefly. Once he was on his feet again he gripped the handle of his sword and raised it to the ready for another series of attacks. "I admit it." He grunted. "You've impressed me."

The Last grinned, showing bloodied teeth. "Ahrk hiu." he replied and shifted his stance with both blades, narrowing his eyes and whispering. "Su… Grah Dun!" The blades glowed as power circled them. "Wuld!"

The Last blurred towards Miraak and he raised his sword while shouting. "Tiid Klo Ul!"

Time slowed and even then the Last was moving so quickly, he adjusted his sword and deflected the first passing slash, then twisted the angle and parried the second one. Miraak saw the first blade already angling for another attack, enhanced by the previous Shout that the Last had performed before his charge.

Miraak saw his opening. The Last's defense was open! He twisted his blade and thrust forward just as his hold on the rope of Time itself slipped. The Last began to alter his stance. One second too late. Miraak smirked beneath his mask.

Time resumed.

Miraak and the Last crashed shoulder to shoulder. Both looking over the other's back until finally Miraak splattered blood across the inside of his mask. "You… created that false opening… even under the influence of Time slowing?" he whispered in resigned realization.

"Yeah…" The Last grunted, leaning into Miraak. "At a price though."

Miraak scoffed in amusement. A bound sword was currently impaling his heart and each dying beat of the organ sent fresh waves of pain throughout his otherwise numbing body. Likewise, the Last was staring at Miraak's blade in his gut, but unlike Miraak's damage he could tell the damage had missed all his vital organs despite the size of the blade itself.

"He'll use you…" Miraak muttered as his body turned to lead, both Dragonborn slumped onto the ground with pained groans. The bound blade disappearing as soon as it left The Last's grip. Miraak couldn't hold onto his blade and simply let his slack fingers go.

Their they lay. Bloody, broken and one on the verge of death while the other moved into its embrace.

"I know…" The Last grunted quietly, staring at the feet of his defeated opponent, too weak to even shift on his side and peer at the First's face. "But even so, this… this battle was worth it. Not since Alduin have I faced someone who made me feel… alive."

Miraak scoffed once more. "If you expect praise, Dovahkiin… you're sorely mistaken."

Before the Last could form a reply the world rumbled and portals with oozing, writhing tentacles appeared around the pair. The one closest to Miraak had the limbs shoot out and impale the First through his shins, wrists and gut before lifting him up to display him for all of Apocrypha to witness.

"You thought to fool me?!" Hermaeus Mora rumbled as his eye appeared before Miraak's mask. "The Ruler of Fate and Knowledge! Your arrogance and foolish confidence have availed nothing!" the eye shifted closer and peered into Miraak's face, into his soul. "Your defiance was amusing. But I have a new Apprentice now. One far more worthy."

"Sahlo…hahdrim…" Miraak spat through dying breaths. "Mey…Hiu bovul dez…" Miraak laughed, he laughed for all he was worth in his last dying moments.

Hermarus Mora growled and entire realm rumbled again. "We shall who fears fate, Miraak." his voice returned to its droning boredom, and that alone was enough to set the First's blood cold. "I strip you of your power. Your knowledge and banish you from Nirn!" A pleased undertone entered the Daedric Lord's voice now.

Miraak's eyes widened behind his mask before they narrowed. "Hiu fen aus fah daar!" he snarled with fury.

A rumbling chuckle. "I will enjoy watching you try to see that through," a single, slender tentacle appeared and pressed against Miraak's mask. It shifted and dug through the material and he felt the tip pressed into his defiant former Apprentice's forehead.

Miraak felt it pierce flesh and bone and wormed its way into his very being. He screamed.

And then… he fell.

Across the Narrow Sea in the barren and harsh land of the Red Wastes, Daenarys Targaryen, First of her Name and current Khaleesi to this slowly Khalasar, watched with Ser Jorah Mormont, her faithful second in Command and protector. The sun beat down on them with vicious intent and heat was suffocating her, and her people slowly.

She could feel each burning bead of sweat as it travelled across her flesh and left its own fire in its wake. And as the air bent and warped before them she began to fear that for all her struggles, all her hopes she would die in this barren land accomplishing nothing she had set out to do.

And that was when Jorah offered her his waterskin. She accepted with a gracious, hoarse thanks and drank a few sips since they had to make their water last lest they die of thirst all the quicker. Even as her body demand she swallow it all.

She handed it back and dared to look upwards.

That was when she saw the Red Comet, an omen that signalled the magical resurgence of Dragonkind. A warning from the heavens themselves that Dragons were once again among them not as myth or long dead legends, but breathing creatures.

And she, as their mother, commanded all three. And together they would take back Westeros from the Usurper and the Targaryen line would take its rightful place as the ruling family once again.

With new purpose she pressed on until Jorah looked up as well, then raced forward and took her shoulder. "Khaleesi!" he pulled her back into his chest and wrapped an arm about her waist and twisted her so she was covered by him as something she didn't hear coming crashed ahead of them with such violence that Jorah and her were flung off their feet and onto the sand covered ground.

She moaned in pain and Jorah grunted at her side having lost grip of her when they were sent flying. Slowly, the remainder of her Khalasar moved to aid her and ask for her safety, she brushed them away as graciously as she could manage before she stood and looked to Jorah, who confirmed he was fine sides a bad hip joke.

Daenerys couldn't laugh, she looked ahead and hissed, "What was that?"

Jorah stood and drew his sword while moving to Daenerys' side. "I don't know, but stick behind me." he ordered while he eyed the smoking crater that, had she taken four more rushed steps, would have been atop her.

Two other warriors joined him in defense of her wellbeing and together the three advanced forward until they reached the edge of the crater. Jorah peered down into it and his eyes widened in shock at what he saw laying inside the very thing that almost crushed his Khaleesi.

A man, robes of greying purple with strange leather and a mask of unknown make lay in bottom of the crater on his back in perfect shape for a fall, as if he had fallen into the crater and had not actually created it, In fact that would have been more believable had Jorah not witnessed him creating said crater in the first place.

"What is it-?" Daenerys looked over his shoulder and saw the man. She gasped and stepped forward to get a better look and she was just as shocked as her warriors and Jorah. The man looked, least she could see beneath those robes and gloves that revealed not an flash of flesh.

"Careful, Khaleesi." Jorah warned from her side, eyes never leaving the man in the crater.

And a renewed series of gasps left them as the man moved. It was a subtle twitch of his finger on a hand first, then his entire fist curled and his leg bent as he was trying to push away from something while on his back. And even with the mask when the man's head turned to them they could feel his gaze on them.

"W-Wo…" The man croaked, voice muffled and strained behind his mask. "Wo-Hiu…" he shifted and sat up, his robes shifting with him, dust clinging to the fabrics. He reached up with his hands, observing them as he clenched them into fists. "Mey Hermaeus Mora… Rok fen aus…"

Daernerys couldn't understand his speech but she knew the tone of voice he was speaking with. He was cursing someone. "Sir." she called to get his attention, Jorah and her warriors shifted into action when the man turned sharply to her. They against felt his gaze as an almost physical weight on their shoulders.

And then the man screamed, be gripped his head and writhed in agony as he fell back and screamed to the heavens in what could only be called agony. Before Daenerys could call for aid for this mysterious stranger she watched as the robes he wore shredded themselves, scattering into dust, along with his boots, soon the entirety of his outfit was turning to nothing.

"Niid!" The man cried out as he gripped his mask, it cracked and split. "Niid!" he shouted with more ferocity. "Zu'u Miraak! Zu fen ni kren!" he slammed back in his naked agony against the ground as his mask gave another harsh crack before shattering in his hold and turning to dust before his face. "Niid!"

Daenerys stared in wonder as the now fully naked male stared up at the sky with a look she could only call hopelessness. It had been a look she could see on herself when she'd been in the company of her brother as he used her to bargain for an army to take his, then, throne. She took a step forward… and unsettled a single pebble which rolled down the crater and bumped into the man's shin.

His gaze blinked and his look was gone. It turned to tempered steel and he lifted his head, getting into a crouch he glared at them as if now just fully accepting their presence. She now saw his features fully, hair, blacker than night itself with a pair of eyes of pure gold with a night black core. And she could almost swear she saw writhing serpents inside their dark depths as she focused on them.

He spoke and snapped her from her trance. "Wo-hiu?"

Even in his crouch, Daenerys could see he was in peak physical condition, muscled rippled beneath a deceptively lean frame and his dark locks created a dark mane at his angle of looking up at her, and the way his fingers curled as if reaching for something that wasn't there. She saw not a man, but a cornered animal who was lost.

"We don't understand you." She spoke finally finding her voice, level and regal as she'd had to been in these tough times.

The man blinked his golden hues before narrowed them and spat. "Do you understand me now?" his voice, once refined and regal as her own when using that other language sounded more guttural when he spoke in common.

"Yes," She responded despite the hostility in his voice. "Who are you? What are you?"

The man narrowed his eyes and assessed her with a predatory glare, not of a man looking for the spoils that came with women… but as if he were a beast who spotted a new animal and was curiously cautious. Finally he spoke. "My name is Miraak and I was… am… mortal."

His wording confused her, but she pressed on with another step closer so she was on the edge of the crater. "Miraak, and where are you from?"

Miraak glanced upwards, then back to her and a bitter chuckle escaped his drying lips. "Far, far away…" a flicker of pain overcame his features and he raised a hand to his forehead, massaging it as if to drive off the pain. After a moment he recovered and glared back up at her. "My turn. Who are you and where is this?"

"My name is Daenerys Targaryen, First of my Name and Khaleesi to this Khalasar." She didn't raise her voice, nor narrow her eyes. Just stated facts. "And you are in the middle of the Red Wastes of Essos."

"Impressive titles, I'm sure." Miraak grunted with just a bit of interest. She could see he didn't care much for her name. "Essos…" he tested the word, he wasn't familiar with it from what she could hear in his voice.

"Before we continue this conversation, I would have you clothed." Daenerys decided to speak on his lack of dress, since he himself didn't appear to bothered by it.

Miraak stood at his full height and stepped up and out of the crater. He looked across the Red Wastes, completely ignoring her and her company in favor of surveying the area. She could see the frown taking his lips and soon she too was growing agitated with his lack of attention. "I do not this land…" he said before she could restate her order.

"Where exactly are you from?" She asked then with a frown of her own.

"Tamriel."

"Where is that?"

"Precisely…" Miraak gave a resigned sigh and his fists clenched. He glared out to the wastes again and as she was about to order him to dress in whatever she could provide, she and the others in her company watched as he took a deep breath and shouted into the distance, a voice louder than any man should be able to produce.

"Zu'u Miraak ahrk zu'u ni kren, Hermaeus Mora! Aus hiu fen!"

The shout carried on, and on, and on… then he turned to them and his gaze landed on her with a flickering of emotions across them. "You…" he said with a more interested whisper. "You smell of Dovah… Dragon." he inhaled and closed his eyes, deeply he scented. "Hiu-dovahsos." he muttered. "You've the blood of a dragon."

"You," Miraak said with an amused and almost arrogant cross of his arms. "Are Dovahkiin? Dragonborn?"

He scoffed.

She narrowed her eyes.

End!

Translations! In order!

Last Dragonborn - "And you."

Miraak - "Weak minded. You, fear fate." "You will suffer for this!" "Who… who're you?" "Foolish Hermaeus Mora, you will suffer." "No! No! I am Miraak! I will not break! No!" "Who're you?" "I am Miraak and I am not broken, Hermaeus Mora! You will suffer!" "You're Dragonblood."

There it is! Just something I had to type out because this scenario was sitting in my head and just wouldn't shut up! So, yeah, this will likely remain a oneshot unless someone wants to take this idea and give it more life than I possibly could (My knowledge of GOT is only Show deep and even then only to episode six of season four!). So, yeah, if ya like, feel free to review and stuff! G'night.