Note: After having to restart the game three times due to game-breaking glitches, I have finally finished Skyrim. This idea came to me during the final battle in Sovngarde, and it is based around the (slightly unrelated) quote "You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain" by Harvey Dent in The Dark Knight. It may be a shot in the dark, but I hope it works. Any parts in dragon language are translated at the bottom of the chapter. Constructive criticism is welcome as I honestly do not know if I'm going about this idea in the right way. Anyway, enough rambling- thank you for reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim or any of the characters in this story other than my version of the Dovahkiin, who I suppose is my creation. Skyrim belongs to Bethesda.
Chapter One: Ava
Ever since my feet touched down on the stone steps, I hadn't stopped running. My muscles screamed in protest and old wounds reopened, but I did not rest. I couldn't. Not here. Not yet.
Had my situation been a little less perilous, I may have stopped to admire the vibrant colours etched into the skies, but when the bane of Men and Mer's existence on Nirn is swooping through said skies, your mind is brought back to the task at hand, no matter how unpleasant it may be. Thick, almost impenetrable fog litters the path I follow with haste, and I stumble blindly into the lost souls scattered within it. I recognise their faces, but cannot pin a name to them. They are lost to my world, and if I do not put an end to Alduin's tyranny swiftly, I will join them.
I do not need to hear it from Tsun to know that I do not belong here. I am neither dead nor a Nord; I have no place in this realm. I manage to bargain my way across the bridge, somehow convincing the giant of a man that this lithe Imperial woman standing before him is the so-called saviour of Skyrim. At first I thought this.. Dovah sos*.. was a trick the Divines were playing on me, but as years went by, I had to face the truth. I had escaped my execution for a reason, and it was that reason that brought me here today.
His deafening roar pierces the serenity around me as I near the great doors. He is getting impatient. He could have ended my life on countless occasions before, and vice versa, but why now, of all times? Why drag out this torturous game for so long? I was beginning to crack under his pressure, and he knew it. It was as clear as day. In this deadly game of fate, he was the predator, and I was the prey.
My mind fails to register what is transpiring around me and before I know it, I am desperately trying to clear the dense fog encasing the sky with three Nord warriors I scarcely recognise. I know he's watching us, and I can almost imagine the sadistic grin plastered across his dagger-like teeth. The haze clears and he lands; his collision with the ground beneath him staggers us all. I draw my sword and look at him eye to eye, his blood red irises boring into mine. He is the reason I survived Helgen, and yet, I am destined to destroy him before he can fulfil his own sinister purpose. Fate is a perplexing and cruel thing to have placed on your shoulders.
The fight rages on. My arms burn from exhaustion and the flames that licked my skin only moments ago, and my legs almost buckle under the weight of my body. With every slash of my sword against his scaled form, I grow weaker, constantly fighting the darkness ebbing into my mind. If my efforts are having any affect whatsoever on his strength, he doesn't show it.
Our movements become repetitive and synchronised; a deadly dance between the Dragon and the Dragonborn. Blood coats my armour and his wings, and I am unsure of exactly who it belongs to. With my voice raw from shouting, my hacks become more violent, desperately trying to break through his ebony scales and end this battle quickly. I see his movements become arduous and sluggish, and I am suddenly filled with the energy I need to end this once and for all. Another douse of flames spill from his maw and I roll against the ground to avoid their fiery embrace. He tries to take off, but his wings, twisted and bloody, keep him pinned to the ground and he screeches in what I can only assume is frustration and pain. It is no honourable way to die, no matter who, or what, you are.
Our dance finally draws to an end when my blade plunges into his neck. He thrashes about, frantically trying to knock me over. The impact of his tail crushing against my side knocks the air out my lungs and my grip on the sword tightens, driving deeper into the flesh. The dragon beneath me shudders and collapses, dragging me down with it. He doesn't fight back; instead, he merely watches as I withdraw the sword and move to face him. A word slips through my mouth as I stand before him, drenched in sweat and blood. "Krosis"*. With all the remaining energy I can muster up, I drive the weapon into his skull and everything falls silent.
We wait with bated breath, all eyes transfixed on the crumpled body in front of me. An eerie silence surrounds us all as we wait for something to happen, but it never comes. They applaud my efforts and I hear their chanting as they walk away from their victory, but something is not right. The World-Eater is dead, and his corpse simply lies there on the ground. No flames? No disintegration? No proof that he is in fact defeated? Nothing.
And that's when it hits me.
An immense force slams in my chest and I fall to my knees in agony. Swirling black mist rises from his form and rushes into my own being, drawing a scream of pain from my throat. I can feel everything; hear every thought he ever had. The darkness tears through my body like a plague and it seeps into my veins. My mind becomes fogged and the sound of the heroes' chanting is drowned out by my own erratic heartbeat in my eardrums. I try to get up and run in an attempt to get away from this..this thing, but my legs do not respond. I am paralysed in this position until this ordeal is over.
As the last dregs of mist seep into my body, I am left exhausted and shaking on the ground. Blood rushes to my head and my vision blurs. I can feel the tempting pull of unconsciousness beckoning me, and I give into it, letting it wash over my body and pull me away from this desolation. It's over.
*Dovah sos- Dragon blood
