"What is better - to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"

The Elder Scrolls: Origins of the Dragon King

Prologue

The Civil War that had plagued Skyrim for so many years had finally come to an end. The would-be usurper Ulfric Stormcloak had met a bloody fate at the hands of the Dovahkiin. Rather, at the voice of the Dragonborn. The man who'd trained with the Greybeards stood no chance against he who had the blood of Akatosh and countless blessings from both Aedra and Daedra.

Of course he'd lost to the man who had vanquished Alduin. Their 'duel' had simply been a formality to spare his people from the fiery death that surely awaited them otherwise. The Dragonborn wasn't just one who could permanently kill a dragon. Even before he'd put Alduin to rest, dozens of dragons had pledged their loyalty to the Dovahkiin, and nothing made quite a statement like besieging a city with dragons. Ulfric had wanted a private 'duel', but the Dragonborn had forced him to come out into the open and meet him at the gates.

There, the Dragonborn had made his demands. Surrender to a trial by combat, there, in front of dozens of dragons and hundreds of terrified people both civilian and soldier, and his people would live. Of course, if he had refused, he'd die anyways, but so would his people, and Ulfric wasn't a tyrant. He was far from being a 'good man', but at the very least he was a 'good Nord', who put his own people first before any other.

After Ulfric's defeat, Skyrim had come under the rule of the High Queen of Skyrim, Elsif the Fair. Though she'd have her work cut out for her, she had several experienced people to help her with her duties. Though remaining a province of the Empire of Cyrodil, Elsif knew that going back to how things were before would be spitting on all those who fought and died for a free, independent Skyrim, and while she was on the opposite side of that fight, she understood their feelings. She'd set new policies that limited the control the Empire had over the home of the Nords, made Talos worship legal once again, as well as banished all Thalmor presence, who'd been revealed to have stoked the fires of both sides of the war knowingly and purposely to use Ulfric's potential victory as an excuse to declare war on both an independent Skyrim and the Empire for failing in their duty to uphold the treaty.

Unfortunately, these policies came about at the worst time for Cyrodil, who had been experiencing crisis after crisis ever since the White-Gold Concordat. Soon after these policies were enacted, news of the Emperor's death had come out, and apparently he had been assassinated within the borders of Skyrim on his own ship. This brought tensions to a new all-time high, and the resurgence of dragons roaming through not only Tamriel, but all of Nirn didn't help any. Not only that, there was also the rumors that dark forces aligned to conspire to bring the world into an era of darkness. Rumors that happened to be based in reality.

When the Volkihar Vampire threat was snuffed out, Harkon was seemingly surprised that the Dragonborn was able to kill him upon feeling all life fade from his body. The expression on his face said as much. In truth, he'd been betrayed. What was to be his final trump card had betrayed him. He had revived Potema Septim, the Wolf Queen, to be not only his new bride in the world of darkness he was going to create, but to also be his greatest weapon. Her powers were so great that by herself she was able to fight a war against various armies by using both unded and Daedra for ten whole years. Even then, her death wasn't permanent. When Harkon's minions had discovered the plot to bring her back that had been devised by a sect of lesser necromancers, he had decided to see it done properly.

However, Potema had different plans. She'd agreed to Harkon's terms as she wasn't nearly powerful enough to fight him should she refuse, but that didn't last forever. As she was nursed back to her full health, she plotted to remove Harkon from the picture. Later, she had met the First Dragonborn, Miraak, and after a game of cat-and-mouse, the three of them had agreed to certain terms that they all benefited from. In exchange for raising the Dragon Priests of old to their former glory and having them kneel at Miraak's feet, he would give them his support when they decided to rise up from the shadows, as he cared not whether he himself ruled in a world of light or darkness.

Unfortunately for Harkon, in order to realize her dream of being wed to Mannimarco, the Worm King, Potema offered the claim she had on Harkon's body to the eternal lich in a ritual while the Vampire and Dragonborn fought. Though Auriel's bow seemed to turn Harkon into a pool of blood and ash, what had actually happened was Mannimarco accepted Potema's offering. A new body allowed him to take the form of a living being once more, and though he retained his lich abilities and power, his new body allowed him to further grow his own power. In a few hundred years he could return to being a lich, after he'd succeeded in his plans, of course.

What little the Dragonborn knew of this was enough to make him worried. Not for himself; He was more or less the most powerful being in the mortal realm at the time. Rather, he was worried for the people he cared about. Serana, who was plenty powerful in her own right, but his love for her was strong, and he didn't wish to see her come to harm. Aela, who was the Companion's strongest fighter even without her wolfblood, who he also loved. Naryu Virian, who he had connections to from long ago and recently found in a manner similar to Serana. Karliah, who was a fellow Nightingale and close friend. Vex, who was like a bratty little sister.

Lydia. Jordis. Argis. Iona. Calder. Gregor. Rayya. Vladimar. His Housecarls and companions who he entrusted with a great deal of his powerful belongings.

Brelyna, the current Archmage of the College of Winderhold and keeper of his more destructive secrets and belongings, including the several Elder Scrolls he's come by. Vilkas, the current Harbinger of the Companions, and his brother Farkas, who were loyal and honorable Shield-brothers. Illia and Mjoll, who were often able and willing to lend a hand whenever the opportunity presented itself. Lucia, who now worked at the Bannered Mare in an attempt to pay him back for his kindness in her time of need.

They would all be in danger. Even those who held considerably more power than the others. There were too many things happening at once. Even if one of the threats were defeated, that just meant they'd be more tired when the next came around. Potema, Mannimarco, and Miraak were but three of the many enemies that would soon become a problem on top of the war between Aedra-Daedra alliance and the rebellious Daedra. A war that was about stopping an altogether different threat that he knew nothing about.

To make matters worse, because of all the controversy surrounding Skyrim, including the assassination of Titus Mede II and resurgence of Talos worship which had spread beyond the borders of Skyrim, though it wasn't technically legal by Imperial Law, another war was about to break out. The Aldmeri Dominion was putting pressure on the Empire to 'fix' the situation in Skyrim though the Civil War was over. It wasn't rash to believe in the possibility of a three-way war. The Dragonborn knew that if that happened, the only group to benefit from that would be the Dominion. The Empire couldn't fight the Dominion alone, and neither could Skyrim. Their best chance was together.

However, without a seated Emperor, the fate of both the Empire and Skyrim rested in the hands of the Council that deliberated in the absence of an Emperor. From past experiences, they didn't have a good track record. The Dragonborn had to do something. Something only he could do. The lists of his feats, ties, and abilities were longer than Skyrim was wide, but he couldn't call himself a politician. He was a fighter. A warrior. A dominator. The mix of Nord, Wolfblood, and Dragonblood in his veins and the resonance of his dragon soul made him unmatched in many situations, but politics simply weren't something he was versed in.

Making a show of force was. Who was to be Emperor was up in the air at the moment, and with the Amulet of Kings resting back within Frostcrag Spire, the Dragonborn could make a strong argument on that alone. However, a stronger argument was always better, and there's not much that could match a show of force that involved dragons. He was already referred to as 'The Dragon King' by some bard's tales. So, that's what he decided to do.

Standing at the Throat of the World, with Paarthurnax resting at the word wall as he usually did these days, he called.

"Od ah viin" He spoke calmly, his Thu'um carrying with the wind to his right-hand, who was somewhere else entirely inside the borders of Skyrim. Though he spoke the words calmly and softly, his Thu'um had progressed to be so powerful that it shook the very mountain he was on, causing cascades of snow and ice to shake loose and tumble down.

"Your own form would carry you to Junaar, the Empire. Why not use your own wings?" Came Paarthurnax's words.

The Dragonborn looked back to his aged mentor. Though Paarthurnax had taught him much about being Dovah, he in return taught the dragon what it meant to be mortal. "The Empire would see me in a different light than I'd like. Fod zu'u los wah kron, nii fent kos ol aan Mun. If I am to appear as a possible conqueror, I should be seen as Man, not Dovah."

"Mun faas Sunvaar, zok do pah Dovah. Man fears beast, most of all Dovah. If their fear is what you desire, should you not appear as Dovah?"

He shook his head. "I'm not interested in the fear of the people. I just need the Council to fear me. If I used that form, any legitimacy my claim has would cease to matter. The Emperor must be Man, not Mer or Sunvaar. Though I have no intention of becoming Emperor, they have to believe I do long enough to cease tensions between Cyrodil and Skyrim, or at the very least shift the tensions towards myself."

"Nii los vonun fah Dovah wah zahrahmiik fah Mun. It is unheard of for Dovah to sacrifice for Man."

"It's not a sacrifice if I'm doing it for selfish reasons."

Paarthurnax was going to retort, but their conversation was interrupted as Odahviing soared towards them, landing on the plateau of the mountain. "Drem yol lok, Dovahkiin. I have heard your summons. What do you require?"

A small, but grave frown appeared on the Dragonborn's face. "I need you to gather some of the others. We're going to the Empire's capital city."

Lakeview Manor hadn't been a simple homestead for almost two years. Instead, it had been transformed into what was more or less a compound. Strong masonry and ironwork made up the outer walls, which extended all the way to the road. The ground had been leveled out and the backside facing the lake had been shored up, combining a small, natural cliff with a man-made cliff, providing an unmatched view of the lake below while maintaining security from the local wildlife.

Several buildings had been constructed, including a stable for up to three horses and a carriage, a modest watchtower, a storehouse, and two smaller bungalows to compliment the enlarged longhouse. All of the buildings were built with both wood and stone to ensure they'd last through many of the harshest winters without any need for maintenance.

The longhouse sported three rounded towers of its own, each attached to different wings of the abode. The tower closest to the lake was attached to a large kitchen, stocked full of various ingredients. To the left was a second tower that was attached to a comfortably large bedroom for the oversized bed dwelling within. The third tower, to the right of the building, was attached to an armory that housed various weaponry and armor, all of which held immense value and worth.

Lakeview Manor also had a large basement, where small shrines to the Nine Divines and various Daedric Lords could be found, as well as several safes full of coin and gems and such. In the very back of the basement was a full forge that had seen much use, used to craft or repair as necessary.

It was the most easily accessible place where whoever wanted to contact the Dragonborn could do so. Though there were other places he could be found, Lakeview Manor was his official home in Skyrim. As such, several of his closest companions lived there with him.

Aela, the Huntress was one of the first to move into the estate. Though she continued her duties as a Companion, her close connection to The Dragonborn was all the reason she or The Companions needed for her absence from Jorrvaskr.

She looked after an orphan The Dragonborn had taken under his wing, Sofie. Initially, she was unsure of how good of a 'mother' she'd be to the girl, but she had help. In addition to the help, there was one factor working in her favor: Sofie was a Werewolf, like her and The Dragonborn. Sofie's lycanthropy, unlike theirs, was naturally occurring. Though many Werewolves become unable to produce an offspring after their initial 'infection', some lack this problem. As such, any child born of two Werewolves are a Werewolf themselves. Signs don't become apparent of such until after puberty, which is when the first transformation is able to take place during a full moon.

The Dragonborn could smell her. That's how he knew she was a Werewolf. She was a beggar who tried selling flowers to make her way after her father was killed in battle. He'd met her a few times before she'd hit puberty, but upon one trip to Windhelm he could smell her from a mile away. He'd found her in a corner of the Grey Quarter, huddled up and covered in tattered rags that were once her dress. She'd transformed. Prior to this, Sofie didn't know anything about her being a Werewolf, so the experience after returning to normal was more than a little frightening.

From that day forward, he and Aela had taken care of her. They had some help, though. Rayya, a Redguard Housecarl assigned to him by the Jarl of Falkreath was an immense help. She held no issues with Werewolves and proved to be extremely useful when it came to caring for children where Aela lacked experience.

Like most Housecarls in Skyrim, Rayya was loyal to a fault. Despite being a Redguard and having her own culture and ideas of what loyalty and honor meant, she got along well with Nords, "Better than my own people" she'd say. At heart, she was more of Nord than a Redguard and considered Skyrim her home.

As with all of his Housecarls, The Dragonborn ensured that Rayya was equipped with the strongest weapons and armor that suited her. Their status as The Dragonborn's housecarls could be seen just by their weaponry alone: Dragonbone. Though extremely strong, Dragonbone was difficult to work with. As such, it took a very talented smith to craft Dragonborn weapons. Rayya's own weapons, two scimitars, were made of such material. In addition, she had Dragonscale armor that she wore when patrolling or traveling. It was lightweight and extremely strong as well as flexible, which no other kind of armor could claim. Though when not patrolling or traveling, she opted for looser-fitting regular clothes.

Lakeview Manor also had a fourth, or rather, fifth semi-permanent resident. Serana Volkihar, a Daughter of Coldharbor. Her connection to The Dragonborn was just as strong as Aela's. While she wasn't traveling with The Dragonborn, helping the Dawnguard, or visiting her mother, she could be found at Lakeview. As they were surrounded by trees, the sunlight wasn't nearly as irritating to her as it otherwise would be, and the mist and fog that was so prevalent in Falkreath helped as well.

Serana got along well with Aela. They were like-minded in how they felt for The Dragonborn and respected each others resolve and strength. They themselves were fairly close because of their common connection and relied upon each other from time to time, which could otherwise be considered comical due to Aela's lycanthropy and Serana's vampirism.

Their close connection to The Dragonborn was the reason they knew that he was planning on doing something big. Something daring. Something only he could do. So when he left inexplicably in the middle of the night just days before the dawn of the new year, they knew it was time. Then, on the dawn of the new year, as the sky started lighting up and dozens upon dozens of dragons could be seen 'migrating' south, they knew who was responsible for it.

They'd both promised to stay by his side until the end of time, but both they and he knew that there would be times when they'd have to sit on the sidelines. His strength and power meant he could fight long after anyone else would've fallen, and he told them that he didn't want to watch them die. That he wanted to die, and stay dead, long before either of them did.

That's just how he was.

The huge 'migration' of dragons could be seen all across Skyrim, from Solitude to Riften. Ever since The Dragonborn had defeated Alduin, dragons attacks on cities and towns had become scarce, and often when there was an attack by a dragon, another would come in to stop it. It was presumed, partly correctly, that this was due to The Dragonborn. Even when he wasn't around, his influence alone could protect them from dragons by using other dragons. Even in the times when that didn't happen, there were select few others who could drive off, if not temporarily slay a dragon. Those were The Dragonborn's Housecarls and companions.

They could be told apart by the weaponry they carried with them. Swords, daggers, axes, bows, arrows, hammers, and even magic staves made out of Dragonbone. Not only were they strong on their own, easily able to cut clean through most Steel weapons, but the Dragonbone itself was damaging to dragons. It slowed their regeneration dramatically and was easily able to slice through their scales.

Jordis, the Sword-Maiden, wielded an Akaviri-style Dragonbone katana. Her title alone, bestowed upon her by the late High King Torygg, meant she was a master of swordsmanship. The time she spent traveling with The Dragonborn and his other companions only further sharpened her skill with the blade. She lived in Proudspire Manor, keeping it clean and warm for when The Dragonborn comes to Solitude

Lydia, one of the first to adventure with The Dragonborn in Skyrim, wielded a Dragonbone longsword, the first of its kind, along with a round Dragonbone shield. She was his first Housecarl and though she had already been an accomplished warrior by the time she met him, she became even better of a fighter after spending a few long months at his side. She lived in Breezehome in Whiterun, which had undergone major renovations since The Dragonborn took over the property.

Calder, the Bear, resided in Hjerim in Windhelm. As his title suggested, he was a bear of a man, almost as large as The Dragonborn. He used a one-handed Dragonbone Axe and small, rounded Dragonbone shield. He was also an adviser to Brunwulf Free-Winter, who became Jarl after Ulfric's defeat at the hands of The Dragonborn. In times when the Jarl couldn't spare a troop of men to deal with a problem outside the city walls but within his territory, Calder was sent instead. From bands of bandits to problems with local wildlife, he could deal with it all and come back alive.

The Dragonborn's home in Riften held not one, not two, but three inhabitants. Iona the Brave, Mjoll the Lioness, and Illia the Pale. Each of them had been assisted by The Dragonborn in an endeavor of theirs, and they each adventured with him for some time. Iona, before becoming The Dragonborn's Housecarl, was tracking a group of bandits who had killed a close friend of hers. Mjoll's treasured sword, Grimsever had been returned to her after losing it and nearly her own life to a Dwarven Centurion within the depths of Mzinchalef. Illia was assisted with defeating her own mother, who had been corrupted by Hagraven within Darklight Tower. Since then, she, like the others, became attached to The Dragonborn in one way or another. As Honeyside had been renovated and enlarged, it easily housed the three who became like family to each other. They also each held possession of a Dragonbone weapon that signified their connection to The Dragonborn, as well as Dragonbone or Dragonscale armor. Illia in particular wore the very first set of Dragonscale robes that provided more protection than the heaviest of Steel armor yet retained all the qualities a Mage's robe was known for.

Markarth's Vlindrel Hall housed Argis the Bulwark, who boasted a full set of Dragonbone Armor, along with a large Dragonbone shield and Dragonbone Warhammer, all of which were the first of their kind. He was one of the only people able to take on a dragon single-handedly and survive. Though Markarth was at low risk for such attacks thanks to being built into the mountain, he was still considered its first line of defense against such attacks.

They were all witness to the dozens of dragons taking to the skies all at once. At first, there was a great panic. The citizens feared for their lives and their homes. Not even the strongest warriors could fight off so many dragons at once, except perhaps The Dragonborn. However, the attacks never came. Cities didn't burn. On that day, no citizen of Skyrim fell to a dragon.

They knew of only one being that could cause such a display, and he wasn't their enemy.

On the day of the new year of 4E 205, the morning sunrise within the Imperial city came with panic and confusion. Though ever since the resurgence of dragons there had been sightings, it was nothing like this. Hundreds of dragons graced the amber-colored skies, all flying towards the Imperial city. In front of them all was an Ancient dragon with a rider atop its back, dressed in black armor. As they closed in on the city, the dragons fanned out, each dragon perching onto the walls and rooftops of the city, with the rider's dragon taking perch atop the newly rebuilt White-Gold tower.

"Hear us," Came the combined voices of the dragons, addressing the terrified populace of the city. "Laat Dovahkiin, The Last Dragonborn has come to offer Miiraad, a choice to the council of the Junaar, the Empire. Hon ok rot uv, haalvut un yol. Hear his words, or feel our fire." Their words came in concert, echoing through the city. Then, in unison, the many of the dragons let out a roar and shot fire into the air, giving the threat substance. Atop the White-Gold tower, the Dragonborn dismounted from his right-hand, Odahviing, and looked downwards upon the population below.

"They're scared."

"They are Joor, we are Dovah. You are Dovah. Made to rel ahrk kron, to dominate and conquer. Were they not scared, I would be."

The Dragonborn nodded slightly. Odahviing wasn't wrong. Just as he and Paarthurnax had said, he does feel the need to dominate. To be the alpha predator. To be that which stood above all else. Especially now that he stood atop the White-Gold tower, which he had always previously seen from the bottom or side. He knew that were he a worse man, he could become one of the greatest, if not the greatest threat to Nirn if he decided to act on that instinct without any morals or decency. Paarthurnax's words echoed in his mind.

"What is better – to be born good, or to overcome your evil by great effort?"

To this day, he didn't have an answer to that question. His own past was still hazy, but from what he knew he wasn't entirely good. He'd done good things and he'd done bad things. Perhaps that's why Paarthurnax was always at war with himself, who lived a similar existence.

"Do you intend to become Jun, Emperor? Your claim is strong, nuz kendov dreh ni praal. But warriors do not sit on thrones."

The Dragonborn shook his head. "No. I'm sure I could get what I want that way, but I have no desire to rule. Those bard's tales be damned."

A rumbling sound came from his right-hand. He was chuckling. "Dovah los stin, nuz hi rel mu. Dovah are free, but you rule us. We accept your rel, your rule, not because you defeated Alduin, but because our blood commands it. Those who do not accept it flee. Hi aal dreh med het. You could do the same here."

"That's different. I'm Dovah. One of you. I don't place myself above you. I'm not an Imperial, and I wouldn't want to place myself above them either way anyways. Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should."

"Mu aam hi. We place you above us even if you do not. Your Zul, your Thu'um is powerful enough to rip Alduin apart if he were to return. Even if they do not accept you, hi los un Jun. You are our King."

The Dragonborn absentmindedly rubbed the amulet clasp around his neck. Though he had attempted to return it to Martin, the man had told him to keep it. For a reason unknown at the time, he was able to wear the amulet and take on the form of the Avatar of Akatosh. He knew now why that was, but it was still strange to him to be considered a King by anyone. Kings sat on thrones and dictated policy. He had no desire to be such a thing. However, more and more he felt as if he didn't have a choice in the matter. The bards called him 'The Dragon King', the Dragons called him their King, and Elsif had told him that she wanted him to become the High King of Skyrim, whether by marriage or by abdication. Now, he was masquerading as a conqueror of the Empire. If worse came to worst, he really would have to become Emperor. He shuddered at the thought of putting up his weapons, leaving behind his travels and companions and wearing itchy robes all day long having to deal with noblemen and politicians.

Down below, his enhanced vision allowed him to see several such people walk out of the White-Gold tower. He could tell by their body language that they were just as terrified as the citizens, if not more so. One of them slowly walked towards one of the Dragons, taking small steps, fearful of its wrath should he do or say something wrong. After what appeared to be a short exchange of words, the Elder Dragon looked upwards at him, meeting the Dragonborn's eyes. That was his queue. Climbing onto Odaviing, they descended from the White-Gold tower, landing at the base, effectively surrounding the members of the Council and cutting off their route back into the tower. The councilmen stared up at him and Odaviing, fearful of what was to come.

"You.. you are the.. Dragonborn? We've heard tales of your might, but they do you no justice,"

Underneath his helmet, the Dragonborn rolled his eyes. He climbed off of his right-hand and slowly walked forwards. Each step he took towards the Imperial Councilman made the already smaller man shrink inwardly. Even for a Nord, the Dragonborn was tall, and the muscles built from decades of training and battle only made him larger. Karliah, Vex, and even and Brynjolf often joked about his size being a liability as a Nightingale, but he'd had no such problems maintaining stealth when it was necessary. He stood before the Council's representative silently, waiting for the man to say something of substance rather than pedantry.

"We – the Council are willing to.. hear your words. Whatever demands you have, we will do our best to comply with them."

The Dragonborn tilted his head slightly. "My demands? Fine. My first demand is for you to recognize what I have around my neck."

The older man leaned in slightly, his vision clearly not what it used to be. Then, the color drained from his face and his blood ran cold. "T-that can't be.."

The Dragonborn pulled his helmet off, revealing piercing blue eyes and short, golden blonde hair. All of his facial features revealed that he was most definitely a Nord, from the strong, square jaw, the facial hair, and the eyes and hair. He stared at the Councilman. "It can, and it is. You know what this is. You know what it means. However, I don't want to be a conqueror. Not if I don't have to. Instead, we're going to go inside and talk about what it is I do want. I will get what I want regardless of how many people die today, be it none or.. everyone."

The man before the Dragonborn took a step back, scared out of his wits. The Last Dragonborn, who was the King of Dragons, making a threat? The intelligence reports he'd read about him said he didn't make idle threats. Inwardly, he cursed his position. He was one of many that had been placed upon the Council by the Thalmor. He was a puppet, and he knew that. Almost half of the entire Council was, with their duty to whisper in the Emperor's ear and speak in favor of anything that benefited the Aldmeri Dominion.

Now, however, the Thalmor had left them out to dry. The moment they had heard of the Dragons approaching the city, they'd used teleportation spells to leave. It was just them, now. Even were they to survive the day, there was no doubt their relations with the Dominion would be forever changed regardless of the outcome of their talk with The Last Dragonborn.

They had agreed, of course. What were they going to do? Say 'No' to one of the most powerful people in the world? He had dragons. Not just two or three. Hundreds were gathered there in the Capital, and who knows how many more he had in reserve. Ever since their return, it had taken entire regiments of soldiers to deal with one dragon.

After sitting down at the massive round table within the Council's deliberation chamber, he got right to the point.

"You're going to cease hostilities with Skyrim. You'll give them their right to self-govern back, and you'll allow Talos worship again. Not just in Skyrim, but all of your holdings. In return, everyone gets to live and I'll relight the Dragonfires."

One councilman, who was completely silent until now, stood up quickly, his chair crashing out from under him as he did. "Ridiculous! If we do that, it will break the White-Gold Concordat. The Dominion will invade again. We might as well be burning down the Empire anyways!"

"How many of you are already puppets of the Thalmor? A quarter? Half? More? You know as well as I do that they'll invade again regardless of a piece of paper. The Empire can't fight the Dominion without the strength of Skyrim, and Skyrim won't fare much better without the Empire. The only option for survival is to do so together. The Civil War is over. Elsif is High Queen. Even the Imperial soldiers you've sent to Skyrim support her. Are you going to force brother to fight brother again?"

Many of the Council members grimaced at the thought. Though the late Emperor had ordered it, he did so as a last resort. He chose Tullius because he was an honest and honorable man who held as much resentment towards the Thalmor as most Nords, and as half of his own forces were Nords themselves, he understood them better than most others, though he claimed not to understand them nearly well enough.

"If we do as you ask, the Dominion will still win. Many cities in our holdings are still in ruin, our forces are depleted, and with the taxes imposed upon us, we don't have enough supplies to fight a war for very long. Cyrodil can survive under the eye of the Thalmor so long as we offer up Skyrim."

"If you do that, not only will you face an all-out war with Skyrim, but with me. But, it doesn't surprise me that you'd suggest such a course of action. Rather, inaction. The Thalmor have quite a bit of influence on many of you. If you get to continue living a life of luxury, who cares about the people, right?" The Dragonborn said, a deep frown on his face.

"So you suggest we choose to walk into our own demise?!"

The Dragonborn shrugged. "I have no love for the Empire as it is today. It's corrupt, sick, and bleeding. Worst of all, it is so because of people like you lot. You make decisions for the people without any care for what they want. Either way, war is coming, and it's just the first of many, because even if you manage to defeat me, defeat Skyrim, and defeat the Dominion, there are other wars on the horizon that are bigger than you could possibly imagine. If the Dragonfires remain unlit, then surviving with or without the help of the Dominion will be impossible."

"The Dragonfires? They went out upon the death of Emperor Martin Septim. He had no heirs. Without the blood of a-"

"The blood of a Dragonborn is what is required. One who can wear the Amulet. Mankar Camoran could wear the Amulet because of his bloodline, and he definitely wasn't a Septim. Just a deranged Thalmor agent who took things way too far."

This brought a great pause to everyone in the room. "How.. How do you know of Mankar Camoran? The name isn't commonly come by, but the fact that he was a Thalmor agent.."

"I should know. I'm the one who put him down."

The silence that followed was deafening.

A/N: First off I should say that the prologue takes place a long, long time before the first chapter and while that may seem obvious to some, it might not be so for others, so I thought I'd get that out of the way first. Secondly, this prologue has been sitting on a flashdrive I thought I had lost for years now, and I had initially meant to put it up just a few days before it went missing. The storyboard for this particular Fanfiction is obscenely long and detailed and has been for some time. I'll warn you all now that there isn't any chance of it all fitting in a single installation whatsoever. Origins of the Dragon King will cover the bulk of the events in Oblivion. Rise of the Dragon King (Title pending) will be the direct sequel, covering the events of Skyrim. Following that, Lost Years of the Dragon King (TP) will be a prequel to the first installment. Then, to wrap things up, we'll have The War for Nirn (TP). I figured I'd lay it all out now and save you all the trouble of guessing just where things will end up. Soon I'll be editing my profile for the first time in eight months and adding the synopsis for several of stories I have planned, including those listed above, so read at your own risk.

I'll also point out that canon will be considered malleable, as with most Fanfiction, to head off die-hard TES Lore fans who will inevitably find faults in my story. Suspend your disbelief and go with the flow if you enjoy the story, because there's gonna be a lot of alterations to what is considered canon, some of which you have obviously already seen. Especially considering all the things that will be happening later on. I know it's gonna rile up people who have spent as much time reading up on TES Lore as I have spent breathing, so I figured I'd save us all some time to enjoy life a little more instead of telling me how the Dwemer are really a euphemism for the insatiable greed mankind has for knowledge and the dangers technology represent in a time where one act could lead to the end of all life as we know it and then making me read about it in the reviews.

Just go with the flow.