Draco
Prologue
In the southern reaches of Whiterun Hold, running northeast along the Great White River, a massive Castle sat at the base of the Monahven.
It was an exquisite Castle, built by the finest craftsman Cyrodiil and Skyrim had to offer; sparing no expense. The founder had been a wealthy and esteemed Lord in Cyrodiil, prior to the Oblivion crisis towards the end of the Third Era. After disaster was adverted, rendering the Amulet of Kings destroyed, the Empire began to collapse. Seeing this as an opportunity to leave Cyrodiil, this said Lord had a grand Castle built at the base of Monahven (Throat of the World) and even acquired a good amount of farm land, as well as several mills, throughout Skyrim.
The Man bore three sons, and as he himself passed into old age, the sons became devious; scheming over who would inherit the Castle. Though the eldest two sons had military experience, the youngest of the three, Adalatinus, bore the most amount of cunning and manipulative wisdom at the young age of nineteen. One stormy night in Rain's Hand, Adalatinus struck a deal with the Daedric Lord Boethiah.
"You shall become your Father's successor, inheriting both land and wealth. But from this day onward, the seed of your bloodline will be cursed, and shall only ever bore one son to carry on thy family's name. And in death, I shall claim the Souls from the sons of your lineage."
Adalatinus accepted without so much as a second guess, and on the day his Father passed from Nirn, so too did his eldest brothers pass swiftly into death. The Estate was his, the wealth was his.
Over the years, Adalatinus enjoyed all the luxurious of a wealthy Lord, and even got married. But just as Boethiah had told him, Adalatinus bore a single son in the year seventy-eight of the fourth era. Though aware of the deal, Adalatinus continued about his life, thinking he might live forever. But unfortunately for him, he contracted an incurable disease that affected his immune and central-nervous systems; until he was but a weak and weary old man, dying on his death bed. He eventually died in the year ninety-four of the fourth era, at a ripe old age of eighty-nine. But he never told his son of the curse; the deal struck with Boethiah. Instead, he wrote about it in a journal that he hid away amongst the hundreds of other books in his library. And the bloodline continued.
Vanscius and Aernarus, both of whom never questioned their fertility and never discovered the truth. That is until Arrinian, the son of Aernarus, discovered the journal during the months of his wife's pregnancy. He toiled over the journal for months, consulted with Vigilants of Stendarr and others knowledgeable in the ways of Daedra. Nevertheless, his son was born; Addrian. And he loved the child dearly, but feared for the fate that awaited him, and thus kept his distance from his son. He told himself that he would explain all to the boy once he was older. But fate it seemed, would not have it. While attending a wedding to the north in Windhelm, Arrinian's carriage was forced off a cliff. Both he and his wife perished; leaving their son, twelve-year-old Addrian, all the wealth and land to his name. But he was alone, with no one to help him…
In the days following his parent's death, he found the journal hidden away and read about his family's curse. He was intrigued, but did not give it much thought. For in the coming weeks, the competitors and envious folk towards his Family pillaged and burned his farms, and ransacked his Castle, burning everything to the ground.
Luckily for Addrian, he was able to hide away, with the several valuables he owned, including the journal with an incantation to summon the Daedric Lord Boethiah. But he lacked the necessary skills to summon Boethiah. And so, he traveled around Skyrim for two years; a beggar, a thief, a murder…
And on the day of his lowest low, one stormy night in Rain's Hand, on the docks of Windhelm, Boethiah appeared before the once Noble boy.
"So you've come?" the young boy said wearily, not fearful of the Daedra in front of him, aware of his imminent death. A question to which the Daedric Lord nodded.
"Taken my father, and his father before him. And I suppose you'll have me, when all's said and done?" he asked, even more wearily.
The Daedric Lord nodded.
"Well," the boy said arrogantly, with some final breaths, "the terms of this deal have been fractured. My lands, my wealth, and my home turned to ash and rubble."
The Daedric Lord raised her brow.
"Before I go with you, before my Family's name passes into history, I ask for one thing." The boy began, the Daedric Lord looked on intriguingly.
"I want revenge." He said coldly, slipping into darkness with his final words.
And that is where the tale of the young Lord, Addrian Draco, begins.
To Be Continued…
Setting and Lore inspired by Draco1122's Mod "Castle Draco Riverwood Edition Player Home"
skyrim/mods/30469/?