WARNING: If you don't want to know how the boss battle in the expansion Dragonborn goes down, then don't read. (Alternatively, you can watch it on YouTube, if you're really worried about it. Or just say frak it, and read this anyway! Because caution was made for being thrown to the wind! Also, there are a few differences here.)
Miraak watched the gray-green, tentacled sky. He knew she would come. It was in her blood.
A furious roar caused Miraak to turn. Squinting, he could barely see his dragon, Sahrotaar, in the distance.
Miraak's mask hid his ferocious scowl as Sahrotaar landed, carrying his adversary. Or perhaps, a small child…? Miraak studied the tiny figure with uncertainty.
"Oh… my… GODS!" shrieked a woman's voice from atop Sahrotaar, filled with more excitement than seemed appropriate to express in public. The shrill squeal of glee from the tiny figure made Miraak stare at his opponent, the fabled last Dragonborn, in shocked disappointment. "FLYING IS AMAZING!"
Sina threw her arms around Sahrotaar, giving the dragon's neck a squeeze.
Miraak heard his dragon make a low sound. He scornfully realized Sahrotaar was chuckling. His dragon did not chuckle. It was undignified. And yet…
"Sahrotaar, are you so easily swayed?" Miraak asked, staring at his once mighty steed, beaming up at the little elf.
Like a puppy caught being naughty, the dragon looked shamefaced at Miraak, hunching his head.
Sina gracefully slipped from Sahrotaar's shoulders, sliding to the ground with feline dexterity.
"Who's a good boy?" she cooed, holding the dragon's scaly face between her hands; a large, friendly smile on her face.
Miraak stared at his greatest opponent in thousands years, foretold by prophecy, making kissy faces. He felt momentarily bereft of emotion, his feelings flitting between surprise and disappointment. Fate, too, had a cruel sense of humor, it seemed.
"And so the First, meets the Last," he addressed the small elven woman as he advanced toward her. "No doubt just as Hermaeus Mora intended. He is a fickle master, you know."
He paused at the center of the platform, standing within the black, arcane pool of waters.
"And now, I will be free of him. My time in Apocrypha is over. You will die. And with the power of your soul, I will return to Solstheim and be master of my own fate once again."
The madwoman simply grinned, looking for all intents bashful rather than intimidated or prepared to engage in an epic battle.
"Before we start fighting to the death, can I say something, just real quick?"
Miraak waited.
"I just can't believe I'm meeting another Dragonborn!" she screamed in delight, making him truly wonder if she was a mad child of Sheogorath. "We're so rare, I never thought- Hang on a minute. What was that bit you said, 'something blobbity blah blah, last' Dragonborn?"
"It is written," he said, with total indifference.
"Huh," Sina said, tapping her chin. "Wonder why."
"Prophecies are rarely forthcoming," he pointed out.
"Very true! Oh, I like you," Sina said sincerely. "Actually, I really don't want to fight. Let's be friends, okay?" she asked with an absurdly sweet smile.
Miraak laughed.
"I thought you were mad before. Now I see you are a fool."
Sina stuck out her tongue.
"Sticks and stones, bestie! I've made up my mind. Dragonborns should stick together. I'll be your friend no matter what!"
Miraak drew his weapon.
"Then you can prove your loyalty, my dear friend, by dying!" he shouted, charging her. "Kruziikrel! Relonikiv! Now!"
His dragons circled overhead, prepared to swoop down on his command.
Sina leapt back, drawing a sword in either hand with a graceful flourish. Though she was not the staunch, Nordic warrior he had expected - he had pictured the last Dragonborn would be a tall man with grizzled features and stony stoicism - she was every bit the fighter he had imagined. Their battle raged, the thu'um of their shouts shaking the sky itself.
Miraak found they were evenly matched neither able to strike the other. Although, when he considered it, he hadn't deflected any attacks. Sina had only pushed him away on occasion with the power of her voice. Increasing the speed of his attacks, he found she was dodging and deflecting him with ease. The tiny elf was toying with him!
"This cannot be," he said in disbelief. "I am master of my own fate!"
"Oh, don't feel bad!" she said, ducking his swing, "Don't give up, you might get me! Keep trying!" she parried his weapon, and rolled away, inviting him to chase.
He glared at his foe. She treated their battle to the death like a game.
"This is the only way, Dragonborn. The only way I can be free."
Sina frowned.
"I doubt that. Why don't we think of something together, best buddy?"
"Best buddy?" he echoed.
"Best friends!" she said with a manic grin.
Once more he found himself gaping at her, dumbfounded.
Gripping his weapon, he charged, shouting ferociously, "Fate decreed that you had to die so that I could win my freedom!"
Sina spun away, but he pressed his attack. Miraak drew his staff in his offhand. Using the black tentacles at his command, he slowed her flight, before catching her square in the ribs with his hammer. The tiny elf fell, rolling down the stairs, clutching her side when she came to a stop, coughing scarlet blood on the stones.
"Felling Alduin was a mighty deed, and I thank you for it," he said, sensing their battle was nearly over. "He would have proven troublesome to me."
He rested a boot on her back, raising his hammer.
"You could have been mighty, if fate had decreed otherwise."
He swung right as a large, blur of scales and muscle barreled into him, driving him back with a roar.
Miraak glared at his dragon in surprise and fury. He pummeled the beast angrily, knocking him away.
"So easily you betray me," Miraak gasped, staggering to his feet. Blood stained his green tunic where Sahrotaar's massive jaw had sunk his sharp teeth. "After all these years."
Before he could kill the dragon and devour his soul, Miraak felt a gut wrenching pull. His body floated against his will, above the black pool of arcane waters. His thu'um was too weak to serve him, and his Daedric granted powers were oddly absent.
"Did you think to escape me, Miraak?" he heard the Prince of Fate rumble hatefully. Yes, he certainly had. And probably would have succeeded, had his own godsdamned dragon not attacked him. "You can hide NOTHING from me here."
Pain exploded in his chest, as a writhing black tentacle came into view, stabbing him through the back. He could do nothing, save for hanging limply from the Daedric Prince, writhing in agony.
"No matter. I have found a new Champion to serve me."
Miraak felt his life force slipping away, as he conjured his last words to mind.
He had no chance to utter them. He fell to his knees, as the tentacle holding him aloft was severed. The black limb disappeared and he collapsed, looking up to see the crouched figure of Sina, swords gripped in her hands, standing between his body and the mass of tentacles that was Hermaeus Mora.
"And who might that be?" she shot back at the great, gold-eyed being.
Miraak watched the Daedric Prince float toward her, his eyesight blurring and body growing cold.
"Miraak harbored fantasies of rebellion against me. Learn from his example. Serve me faithfully, and you will continue to be richly rewarded."
Miraak reached a hand out toward the last Dragonborn. Sina saw him in the corner of her eye, her warm brown eyes looking at him with concern. He wondered if the fragile creature would live the cursed existence he had - if he was bearing witness to her final moments of freedom.
"Beware Hermaeus Mora," he gasped, fingers out stretched. "He will betray you... as he has me."
Sina dropped her swords and sprinted to Miraak's side, opening her pack.
"Oh no you don't! No best friend of mine is bleeding out on my watch!" she shoved all the healing potions she could find into his arms. "It's story time Miraak. Read it to me, quick!"
She held a Black Book in front of him, open to the first page.
Black tentacles snatched at her, but she shouted, becoming ethereal.
"Come on, Miraak! You've got to read to me, now!" she pleaded, unable to look at the book for him, lest she teleport away. Her shout would only last for a minute, as he would know.
He began to read aloud. Wondering if they would be his last words, he spoke, savoring each sound.
"The eyes, once bleached by falling stars of utmost revelation, will forever see…" his vision grew too dark to see the page, and he heard Sina screaming at him. His uncooperative body made the simple task nigh impossible. Yet somehow, he persevered as his vision momentarily returned, he murmured, "The faint insight... drawn by... the overwhelming... question."
His eyes slid shut, but he sensed a pull just before he lost consciousness.
Sina stood alone, looking up at Hermaeus Mora.
"He yet belongs to me. This changes nothing."
"My dear Hermy," Sina said with a friendly smile. "I don't think he's coming back anytime soon. You really ought to work on your people skills."
Hermaeus Mora descended, floating an inch away from Sina, his great, gold eye staring into her soul.
"My word is as true as fate. As inevitable as destiny. You will replace Miraak. You will belong to me, Champion. And you will serve."
Black tentacles ripped her book away, enveloping it into darkness, causing it to disappear.
Sina backed away to the edge of the platform.
"I belong to me," she said. With that, she disappeared over the edge.
Sahrotaar's talons snagged her by the arms, jarring her shoulders. Despite the ache in her arms, she found the rush of air exhilarating as he swooped her away, back to the book at the pier.
Hermaeus Mora silently watched her go, slipping back into shadow. He knew she would return. It was written. The last Dragonborn was destined to serve him.
Miraak dimly heard two women talking above him.
"He doesn't look so good."
"You're not supposed to say that, you're the healer!" he identified this voice as the Dragonborn. "Will he be okay?"
"I'm a priestess, not a soothsayer," the healer replied dryly.
"And not even a friendly one at that. Why is it Nords who know magic are so cross?"
After a moment of silence, Sina exclaimed, "See? That expression. Right there!"
"Just… just go," the healer said in exasperation.
"Alright, c'mon guys. Thanks for your help, Danica."
Miraak groaned as a pair of arms lifted him up.
"Easy!" Sina warned. "He took it really hard from behind-"
He heard two men snickering quietly.
"Oh shut up, both of you! That's not what I meant and you know it!" Sina said sullenly.
"Where do you want him?" a gruff voice asked. "Back in Breezehome?"
"Yeah, that's… that's probably best…"
"You sound uncertain." The same gruff voice came from his other side. Was he delusional? Or did both men sound identical?
"Yeah…" Sina trailed off.
"Who is he?" asked the first, and Miraak was certain both men had identical voices and inflections of speech.
"A power-mad, 5,000 year old Atmoran. He was a Dragon Priest, when dragons ruled over man. He ruled Solstheim, back when it was a part of Skyrim. Then he sided with the Daedric Prince Hermaeus Mora, because he offered him the power to subjugate dragons. Oh! I forgot to mention, he's a Dragonborn. Well, the Dragonborn, really! First one. Oh, and my new best friend!"
Both men came to a jarring halt, making him groan at the sudden stop.
"You brought a power-mad Dragonborn who can subjugate dragons to Whiterun?" one of them demanded.
"Yeah. Hence my uncertainty. There is a slight chance he may try to... kill me and absorb my soul. I think we can do that to each other, but, y'know, it's all guesswork since I've never actually met another Dragonborn before."
Miraak heard mirrored exasperated sighs. Probably twins he guessed.
"He can't stay," the man on his right said firmly.
"He's in no condition to travel. And he's my friend. He stays," Sina said sternly.
The two men began dragging him along again, less gently than before.
"This seems like a terrible idea," the man on his left grumbled.
"Absolutely!" Sina agreed enthusiastically.
Their voices faded away as he fell back asleep.
When Miraak awoke once more, he was instantly aware of the scent of flowers and herbs all around him. A stark contrast to the acrid scents of Apocrypha. He drank in the rich smell of life all around him, opening his eyes and looking around the small room. He was alone in a bed, covered by blankets.
He forced himself out of bed, staggering to his feet. At the foot of the bed he tripped over a pile of clutter, falling to the ground with a resounding thud.
He heard footsteps running upstairs, and then the elf woman was in the doorway.
"Oh man, I thought that was what happened! I trip over my adventuring stuff all the time!" she exclaimed, looking from him to her pack. Her weapons, armor, and gear were haphazardly unloaded at the foot of the bed. "We're so alike! It's nice when friends are similar, don't you think?" she asked with a bright smile.
As Miraak struggled to his feet unsteadily she ran over to help him. He spied her swords beneath him and grabbed one, charging her with a fierce yell.
"Zun haal viik," she said calmly, taking a step back.
Her thu'um crashed into his weak body and easily ripped the weapon from his hands.
Sina caught him as he fell, staggering beneath his bulk.
"C'mon best buddy, back to bed," she grunted. "You need to rest for now. You can try to kill me later, okay?"
Miraak bitterly grumbled his indignation as the tiny creature awkwardly carried him back to bed.
"I'll kill you, and return to power…" he muttered.
"Of course you will," Sina said gently, tucking him in under the blankets.
"Solstheim will bow to me as it once did," he added, sounding dull and sluggish.
Sina removed his mask. Setting it on the nightstand, she smoothed back his fair hair, examining his inhumanly bright blue eyes for the first time.
"They won't know what hit them!" she agreed giving him an encouraging smile.
He shook his head at her, confused as ever by her ridiculousness.
"I grieve that you must meet your end, but necessity demands it…" he murmured, closing his eyes, breaths falling more evenly. "One step closer… to my… return."
Sina patted his hand, looking at him sympathetically.
Gathering up all of her weapons around the house, she tossed the giant stack into a chest and locked it.
Miraak opened his eyes. The room was dim, with only the small light of a candle burning quietly by the door. Sitting up, he tossed aside his blanket and slid out of bed, this time careful to avoid the wares piled up on the floor. Walking out of the room, he descended the stairs. His body was still weak and shaking, causing him to move slowly.
Sina laid beside the fire pit on the first level of the quiet house, cocooned in blankets. He watched her chest rise and fall, but chose to stride past her and out the door. Killing the Dragonborn in their sleep was beneath him.
Outside, he saw the twin moons high in the night sky, illuminating the empty street. His breath came out in a long, white stream, and the chill of Skyrim crept in through his clothing.
In his more recent visits to Skyrim, he had been incorporeal, projecting an illusionary visage of his body. Now, he moved freely as flesh and blood, smelling the smoke of the fire pits and savoring innumerable details he had not sensed in five thousand years.
Following the path to his left, he came upon a gate leading to the outside.
A pair of guards approached him as he crossed the bridge.
"Whoa there traveler," a guard said, his Nord accent thick. "Who, are you?"
At that moment, he realized his mask was still lying back in the elf's house. He felt oddly naked being seen without it. People were much easier to intimidate when one's face was unknown.
Miraak folded his arms. Even in his current half-dead state, these men were nothing to him. He could kill them both with a word.
"Wait, I remember you," said the other guard. "You were with the Dragonborn and the Companions, at the Temple. Sorry friend, can't be too careful - vampires are on the loose. Best be on your guard."
Turning to open the gate, they abruptly stopped, hearing a splash.
Miraak and the two men held their breaths, straining to locate the origin of the sound, before a second splash was heard, somewhere beneath them.
Drawing their silver blades and lighting torches, the guards approached the edge of the bridge.
Miraak squeezed his hands into tight fists. Electricity came crackling to life as they heard more splashing from below.
The guards squinted into the shadows and illuminated the rippling water with their torches.
Miraak heard a wet hiss.
The guards scrambled back, yelling frantically and clawing at their helmets. After barely managing to wrench them off, Miraak watched in perverse amusement as they frantically threw their helms onto the ground. A bubbling, yellow substance burned through the steel, eating through the metal. The men appeared pale faced and mildly burned, but intact.
Distracted by the spectacle, Miraak turned at the sound of wet footsteps just in time to find a group of monstrous creatures leaping onto the bridge. Their bodies were leathery and ashen gray, with a chitinous growth covering their joints. Fins ran across their hunched heads, which housed empty, fish-like eyes, and gaping mouths that gave way to rows of needle teeth.
Miraak recognized the vile creatures as Lurkers - a species of Daedra from the murky waters of Apocrypha.
Their horrible mouths opened wider, pouring forth legions of black tentacles as the gang of Lurkers swarmed the three men.
"VEN GAAR NOS!" Miraak shouted, hands drawn back and body leaned forward to absorb the recoil of his words. His shout erupted into a powerful cyclone, causing a furious wind to blow in every direction. The cyclone flew forth, enveloping three of the creatures and sending them careening from the bridge. Far in the distance, he could hear them crash painfully into a wall with lethal force.
Only three more Lurkers remained.
The guards met them bravely with their swords drawn before battling furiously against the hideous Daedra with wild swings and shouts. Miraak could tell they were horribly outmatched as the Lukers brought their large legs down, staggering the Nords and making them feeble.
Knowing it was futile, Miraak threw his lightning bolts at the final Lurker anyway. The beasts were heavily resistant to magic, but he had no other weapon, and without his powerful Dragon Priest mask, his magicka depleted quickly.
Stripped of his weapons and with his magicka reserves empty, he felt the dreadful sense of his own mortality come over him. Claws tore at him while he fought, his fists swinging frantically, in a vain attempt to try and buy time to shout again.
The Lurker stomped, causing him to stagger, and he watched helplessly as writhing tentacles appeared beneath his feet. Unable to flee, he felt the piercing sting of their poison. He heard the guards collapse and felt his own knees buckle as the Lurkers continued their onslaught, staggering and poisoning their bodies.
Miraak watched the mindless Lurker raise its clawed hand, reaching back to strike the fatal blow across his throat. Time slowed to a crawl. He had lived too long and seen too much to die now. His mind centered bitterly on one thought. His freedom from Hermaeus Mora had been all too short, but worth every second.
He smiled sinisterly at the Lurker, greeting death with a defiant grin.
Before the Lurker's claw could strike his throat, an arrow buried itself in the side of its head. The beast lost its footing as it stumbled back. Righting itself, it came toward him, only to sprout two more arrows, perfectly placed beside the first.
Its empty eyes remained unchanged, but its body looked like a puppet whose strings had been cut as it collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
The poisonous tentacles still writhed around him, causing him to become disoriented and feverish. His body began to twitch and his breathing became labored.
He felt and heard the powerful shout of the Dragonborn, the sound stirring his dragon blood.
"FUS...RO DAH!"
The shout was not one that he knew, but it seemed similar to his Cyclone shout. The Lurkers were thrown violently with incredible force, and he heard the sound of several bowstring snaps quickly follow. Even without looking, he could tell the Lurkers were no more.
Miraak lay on the ground, gasping for air. He looked up silently at the night sky, reveling in the fact that he was still alive, until a familiar face blocked his view. A cold hand touched his forehead.
"Auriel, you're burning up!" Sina exclaimed.
He tried to sit up, but before he could fully rise he heard a Whirlwind Sprint shout and she was gone.
His head fell back to the ground and he stared at the night sky, wishing his vision was clear. Unable to admire the stars he had gone so long without, he gave up and closed his eyes, attempting to shut out his pounding headache. He could feel his mind deteriorating, and he felt himself becoming more and more disoriented.
A small arm around his back hauled him up, and he felt someone place a potion at his lips.
He drank the bitter potion and almost immediately felt better. The fog before his eyes began to clear and his breathing became more regular.
"How are you feeling now, bestie?" Sina asked, giving him a friendly shake.
Miraak looked at her in confusion and disbelief, wondering if his mind was not still deteriorating.
"Why in Oblivion do you keep saving me?!" he exclaimed. "We are not friends! I will kill you and absorb your soul to restore myself to power. You do comprehend this, do you not?"
"Yep!" she said with a nod.
Sina cast a healing spell on him, making him sigh in exasperation.
"This. This is what I don't understand," he said, his fever fading under her spell.
"That's alright," she said, hefting one of his arms over her shoulder. "You don't have to."
"You're mad," he muttered, letting her walk him back to the house.
"Maybe!" she said with a laugh. "But I told you before. I've made up my mind. I'll be your friend, no matter what!"
Sina fumbled with the door, managing to kick it in and haul the large Atmoran upstairs with great effort.
"Okay," she panted, tossing his bulk back on the bed. "No more wandering off. I don't want to drag you up those stairs again. Now, is there anything I can get for you? Because, and I don't mean any offense, but you look really pale. Like, deathly pale."
Miraak groaned. He felt worse than he looked in fact.
"Another potion."
Sina nodded.
"Right," she said. "Let me round up some chitin, eyes, and charred- you know what, you're better off not knowing what's in it. Be right back."
She returned not long after, potion in hand.
She helped Miraak sit up and drink it.
He felt its effects immediately as the poison further dissipated. He could feel his body's defenses growing stronger as his health and stamina were simultaneously restored.
"Thank you for your help," he said, laying back.
"You're not going to shake your head at me for being nice?" she asked with a laugh.
"I'm too tired," he said, sinking his head down into the pillow. "Besides, it's not worth the effort."
Sina grinned.
"Aw, you're welcome. You're pretty swell, for a power-hungry, egomaniac, you know that?"
Miraak further buried his head back in the pillow, trying to escape her chipper attitude.
"Divines smite me now," he implored cynically.
"Well, if you really want, I can just leave you there next time," she said with a snarky grin.
Miraak gave her a look of exasperation.
"You are without doubt the most insufferable, absurd person I have ever met."
Sina snickered, covering him with the blanket.
"Friends giving it to each other straight! See? We're already giving each other honest observations, this is great! Good night, Miraak. If you need anything, just call me."
As she left, Miraak stopped her.
"Dragonborn?" he asked.
"Sina," she corrected, turning around.
"Sina…" he said. "Why are you caring for me? It won't change my mind about our final battle."
Sina drummed her fingers thoughtfully on the door frame.
"If you're interest is romantic or physical, I-" Miraak began.
"Stop!" she said, holding up her hands, not wanting to hear which way he was steering the conversation. "I'm not trying to get you into bed… okay, poor choice of words," she mumbled, looking at him laying in her bed. "My interest is not romantic or physical. You and I, we're probably the only Dragonborns in the world - we can relate to each other in a way other people can't. I just want to be here for you, as your friend. Sometimes it's hard to find one solid, dependable friend in life, and I thought maybe we could be that for each other. And I have a hunch we've both been living in isolation for a very long time."
Sina blew out the candle on the desk.
"I'm keeping you up, though. Get some rest, Miraak. And don't worry. If the Lurkers come back, they'll have to go through me."