A/N: My second 'Aftermath' Fanfic. This one set after the events of Dragonborn.
Ahli Stormbane sat silently at the bottom of the ruins of HIS temple. Surrounded by the dark stone walls and statues, cradling HIS golden mask in her hands, staring into its eyes as though they held all the secrets that she desired to know, all the knowledge that had been hidden from her whilst she was in Apocrypha. HE had been the only being on all of Nirn who had known what it had been like to be like her, and now HE was dead. Paarthurnax understood, but he didn't know.
Motionless she sat there, remembering back to when she had first heard HIS name.
"You there, you the one they call Dragonborn?" The rough voice had jolted her out of her daydream as she had walked through Ivarstead. She had laughed at them, for they had appeared ridiculous, dressed in their odd robes, and the strange masks that looked like deep-sea creatures. She had thrown it back in their faces. "Well the Greybeards seem to think so, and so does all of Skyrim for that matter." She had not been expecting the pair to call her deceiver, nor to begin hurling destruction magic at her. She had brought them down far too easily, dragonbone sword cutting through the robes as though they were not there. Then searching the bodies for some clue as to who wanted her dead this time.
'Kill the false Dragonborn known as Ahli Stormbane before she reaches Solstheim. Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased.'
She had not known HIM then, nor had she known Solstheim, but she had travelled to Windhelm and 'convinced' the captain of the Northern Maiden to return to Solstheim.
In the bowels of the temple, the Dragonborn smiled to herself, she remembered how surprised she had been at how Solstheim had looked, how different it had been to Skyrim, the land where she had been born and brought up. She remembered stepping of the boat, onto the ash-covered land and being confronted by that pompous Dunmer official, and asking about HIM.
"You are no longer in Skyrim, outlander. This is the territory of House Redoran, this is Morrowind. Here you will follow our laws, or be subject to our justice. Do you understand outlander?" She had smiled at him.
"Of course, no killing, no thievery, no assault, and of course, no lollygagging." She had grinned at the expression on his face. He had been unable to see the expression on hers behind the Daedric helmet she insisted on wearing. "Tell me," She had continued, "Do you know Miraak? I have come to Solstheim looking for him." The mer's expression had changed again, taking on a confused, almost dreamlike state.
"No… no I don't. It's funny but I think I have heard the name before. Maybe in a story?" She had left him standing in a daze on the dock, and had pressed on into the village, asking around about Miraak, each time getting the same response, until she had left the entire village dazed behind her, before heading towards the temple that she now sat in."
Her hands began to move, caressing HIS mask in a way that she had never been able to do to HIS face. She remembered when she first came here with that Dunmer sellsword from the Retching Netch. He was dead now of course. Killed by those abomination from Apocrypha. She remembered the people HE had bent to HIS will, forcing them to repair and improve this edifice to HIS power.
She had first heard the sounds of labouring whilst she was still only halfway up the steps leading to the temple. She had heard the sounds of tools on stone, but also the sounds of a Nordic woman pleading with her friends to come home. The same Nordic woman with whom she had first delved to these depths of the temple, exterminating the cultists that had stood in their way. They had eventually discovered that they could not free the woman's friends at the time. Then they had found the book, the black book that had drawn her into Apocrypha, where she had first met HIM. HE had left a lasting impression on her then, telling her that HE would return to Nirn, and that he would take over Solstheim, Tamriel and Nirn, and that there was nothing she could to stop him. HE had shown HIS power, power that she now possessed.
She had run around Solstheim, still followed by that Dunmer sellsword, seeking out the black books, diving into Apocrypha again and again in search of the knowledge to defeat HIM. Not fully understanding what she was doing, or what it was doing to her. Eventually she had travelled to Saering's watch, and learnt the word there.
She had felt the pull of a word wall, but underneath was the irresistible lure of forbidden knowledge. Like a moth to a flame she was drawn towards it. The vicious winds that howled and screamed around her were ignored entirely, the draugr deathlords that stood in front of her were almost completely disregarded. They fell to her blade like wheat to a farmhand's scythe. Only the dragon that sat atop the wall had distracted her from her purpose, albeit momentarily. She had shouted him down and carved him apart. She had been so focussed on the knowledge that she had barely noticed HIM stealing the soul. She read the word, took it in, took in the nature of the shout. To control, to… Dominate. She had shivered as she took it in. She knew that this was what she would need to defeat HIM. She had travelled Solstheim, cleansing the stones, destroying the Lurkers that had rose to defend them. Hardly noticing when one had killed the sellsword. Why should she care about him, when she had to concentrate on HIM. She had travelled once more to Apocrypha where she had learnt the second word directly from Hermaeus Mora himself, and she had struck the bargain to steal the knowledge from the Skaal in exchange for the final word. As she took in the second word she felt the need to dominate and conquer increase, now she could bend humans to her will if she so desired.
She smiled to herself, she remembered that, the feeling of power and superiority, she had enjoyed it, relished it. She remembered the third word as well. She remembered how she obtained it.
The shaman had initially not wanted to part with his ancestors' knowledge, but had eventually concluded that in order to prevent Him from taking over the world, he would have to relinquish his secrets. Ahli had felt nothing when Hermaeus Mora had killed the old man. Only the elation when he had given the secrets of the final word. Now she could bend dragons to her will. Then she had returned to Apocrypha for the final time. To face HIM.
Deep in the temple she shuddered as she remembered that final fight. HE had been powerful, so very powerful. But she had been stronger.
They had faced each other atop a tower in Apocrypha, jutting out of the dark liquid below them. She had arrived on the back of a dragon. HE had been waiting for her with two dragons of HIS own. HE had taunted her, told her that she had done well to get this far, but that HE would be the victor, HE would walk away, whilst she would not, could not. She had charged at him then, both combatants wrapping themselves in the power of the dragon aspect shout. Their blades had crashed together in a shower of fire and tentacles as the respective enchantments activated. Her blade had crashed against HIS body, His blade at struck up sparks as it scraped against her armour. They had fought for what seemed like hours, whenever HE had seemed near death, HE had ripped the life from one of HIS dragons in order to prolong HIS survival. Eventually HE ripped the life from Sahrotaar as well. After that, when next HE drew near to death, HE had been snared by Hermaeus Mora, who had taunted HIM, laughing at his failure, stating that he no longer needed HIM, he had a new plaything. HE had responded, saying that HE hoped that Ahli got the same reward that HE had. The HE had died, and HIS soul had rushed towards her. Carrying with it all the experience of HIS vastly extended lifespan, all the knowledge HE had gleaned from Apocrypha, and all the dragons that HE had slain. She had known then, that now, now she was truly alone, and that realisation had been too much for her and she had collapsed.
Alone in the abandoned temple of the first dragonborn, the last dragonborn slowly raised herself from where she had sat the last few hours. Donning HIS mask in place of her daedric helm, and belting HIS sword at her waist, she spoke for the first time since she had fought HIM.
"ZU'U DOVAHKIIN!" The temple quaked at the sound of her voice, ornaments and decorations fell as a tremor akin to that which had preceded the Red Year swept through Solstheim. "ZU'U KRIID SE ALDUIN AHRK QAHNAARIN SE MIRAAK! ZU KOD FAAL SULEYK WAH KREH HADRIMME! ZU'U DOVAH! ZU'U MUL! ZU FEN KRON! ZU FEN REL! ZU FEN UTH TAAZOKAAN!"
The last dragonborn walked out of the collapsing temple, clad in the appearance of the first dragonborn, to meet her new destiny, the one she had forged for herself in the crumbling ruins of her devastated mind. A mind that had been torn apart by war and fire and death. Now Tamriel, no, all of NIrn would know war and fire and death on scales that would far overshadow the Red Mountain and the Great War.
A/N: Dovah translation: I AM DRAGONBORN! I AM SLAYER OF ALDUIN AND VANQUISHER OF MIRAAK! I WIELD THE POWER TO BEND MINDS! I AM A DRAGON! I AM STRONG! I WILL CONQUER! I WILL DOMINATE! I WILL COMMAND TAMRIEL!
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