A/N: Hello readers! Thanks for giving my story a chance. It is a new one, and the inspiration for it came from both my related story Last Letter and from my own musings.
I wondered "what would happen if time moved slower in Sovngarde than it did in Skyrim? And after the Dragonborn defeated Alduin, he returned, only to find the time had passed greatly? Like 30 years?
How would the world he knew and the people he loved have changed? If everyone thought he'd died and they all moved on?"
So I guess this story is my interpretation of that. Expect fluffiness and angst.
This story is loosely tied in with Last Letter, I guess. But you don't have to read that to understand this one. Just know that the letter he mentions here was written to Lydia before he left to fight Alduin. He knew he would die in this fight.
As well, I did not want to start the story here, as you all know what happens in the final fight. I'd hate to be one of those authors who reiterates entire conversations and events. But I always thought it could have done with a little more epicness, so I revamped it and changed some dialogue. This is the prologue, the intro to set the stage, and the real story starts next chapter.
Anyways, read on! Hope you enjoy it, and I'd appreciate any feedback you have!
Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim blah blah blah.
For after we start we never lie by again - Walt Whitman
Prologue: Coming Home
He had… underestimated the mortal.
Even as he was bent on his knees before him, bleeding and raw and collapsed from the very power of the Shout, he still clasped his black sword tightly in his hands.
He deserved credit for coming this far, maybe, for his bravery in making it past his mists and the terror of the unknown. For tracking him down after so many years, after so many battles and blood and scars.
Stubbornness, perhaps. Not bravery.
And most definitely not prophecy.
"Up, Dovahkiin! Stand up!"
"I will not have you die yet!"
He laughed deep in his chest, a deep rumbling sound like the cracking clouds above. Daar mey, these fools, they knew not when to quit.
He felt the power of the spell breaking its hold, of Dragonrend thinning in places like the mists that surrounded them. He felt his own unending power flooding back.
Alduin laughed again, deep and low and long.
"You dare use that foul Shout against me? Zu'u unslaad, Zu'u fent viik Dovahkiin! I am immortal, mey! I cannot die!"
He stretched his black wings to the sky and smiled down to the tiny man below.
"Your world, Dovahkiin, it will burn."
The Dragonborn opened his eyes and Alduin laughed again as he watched the others, those fools, help him to his feet.
"N-no," the man said weakly, pathetically, turning his face to the heavens, and even from up here the World-Eater, with his time-penetrable black eyes, could see the fool of a man was near his end. His armour was rent, his body broken, his eyes tired. Defeated. Accepting.
And I shall not disappoint.
"You are defeated, mey joor, fool of a mortal. You cannot win. Your frail body cannot keep itself on its feet. You have niid hind, no hope of defeating me!"
Alduin laughed again, and Shouted his mists back. They encircled him like the shadows in the night.
"You will die, and I will kill you. And I will laugh as I yah faal jun, watch the light leave your eyes."
The man was on his feet now, barely, but he still held the black sword, dark as his own scales, sharp as his own teeth.
The dragon was right.
He was tired. Almost too tired for words, and certainly too tired for the simple word tired. But sometimes that's all that's needed. Simplicity is a rarely praised quality, he thought.
And despite all his efforts, all the long years of training and wandering and victories and defeats, the blade just seemed so heavy. It wasn't, really. He'd chose it because of that. But he couldn't lift it now. The muscles in his arms screamed out in agony. He could barely see for the pain clouding his vision. His throat was raw from the Shouts and he could taste his own blood.
"Daar lein los dii! This World is mine!"
He was so tired.
Had he failed? Had he really come all this way to watch the black dragon's flame one last time? Was this not part of his destiny? Had he ever really stood a chance, or was it all just some cruel game played by the gods?
An Imperial as Skyrim's hero. A sneak-thief as a dragon-slayer. It had been his dealt hand.
He wouldn't be surprised if that were so.
"The Elder Scroll did not defeat me, mey! What makes you think you can?"
He heard the black dragon laugh once more, a hard, bitter sound from the rainbow skies above, and he fell to his knees again.
There was never really any hope. Just a fool's hope.
And he knew, though he hated to admit it. And now that he thought about it, he always knew.
He was going to die here, now.
The Dragonborn had made peace with that long ago. That's why he wrote that letter, he supposed.
"Zu'u unslaad! I am Pah, I am Oblaan! I am the Beginning and the End!"
He was so tired.
Before his bloodied knees hit the stone once again, he felt the two pairs of strong, warm hands grab him and lift him up. His tired eyes blinked the blood and grime and haze away, and he beheld the two men at his side and the woman standing in front of him.
"Do you hear them, Dragonborn?" she asked, beautiful face grim and all-knowing. "Do you hear them sing to you?"
He did. He heard the voices echo up through the valleys of Sovngarde, low at first, barely more than a whisper. But they grew and the darkness clouding his heart began to evaporate along with the mists.
Dovahkiin… Dovahkiin… naal ok zin los vahriin.
Dragonborn, Dragonborn,
by his honour is sworn
to keep evil forever at bay!
And the fiercest foes rout
when they hear Triumph's shout
Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!
And so they sang.
"No!" Alduin cried from above. "I will not let this happen!"
He swooped down with the fury and passion of a million burning suns, the skies of Sovngarde blazing red as he did so.
The woman – Gormlaith – and it came to him suddenly – stepped forward and handed him his black sword. He didn't realise he'd let it slip past his fingers.
He was so tired.
He took it from her and she smiled.
"For a hundred lifetimes my heart has burned for revenge on Alduin too long delayed. Let us end this," her brother – Hakon, – how did he know? – grumbled in his ear, thick hands still clutching his weakened arm. The other man, a mage, he thought, smiled warmly and squeezed his other limb with the familiarity of an old friend.
The woman placed a hand on his chest and smiled at him. "We are with you, Dragonborn," she said. "We have never left."
"Stand fast! The fell wyrm's death is ours at last! The light returns!" The mage cried out, turning the heads of the heroes to the sky.
Alduin was near, speeding faster than the lightning cracking down around him.
And the Scrolls have foretold,
of black wings in the cold,
That when brothers wage war come unfurled!
Alduin, Bane of Kings,
ancient shadow unbound,
With a hunger to swallow the world!
And so they sang.
And then the Dragonborn was filled with such power, such knowledge, such love, as the heroes gave unto him the last of their own strength and melted from his vision. It burned through his body slowly, like a smouldering, red-hot dragon-fire and filled him from the very tips of his fingers to the bottom of his toes, and it seemed as though the years stolen from him by this fate were being used up at that moment. Like a star in the last moments of its life, burning up all the fuel meant to serve it for another million years.
His strength was returning, his wounds were closing, and he could finally see.
"NOOOOO!" the dragon keened wildly, beating its wings madly against the pull of the unspoken spell. Alduin's mists swirled around him violently, and had there been dirt and the foul things that crawl through it in this heaven, then the dragon would have gusted them around too. "This… will not… happen!"
The Dragonborn felt the overwhelming pull of the spell, and the sensation of being torn apart, of being ripped at the seams. It was familiar to him now. He shared in Alduin's anguish, of the cruelty of Dragonrend. He could feel the black dragon lashing back with every fibre of its being. It took everything he had to keep to his feet.
But the strength of the Heroes was too great, and Alduin knew this. And that is why he belched forth one last blistering stream of fire, swinging his head madly, writhing around wildly against the pull of the spell, fathomless black eyes wide with pure burning rage and desperate loathing for the man below.
"Niid! Niid! I do not fear you, Dovahkiin!"
Little golden flecks of fiery embers swirled around the dragon's beating wings and the Dragonborn closed his eyes as the dragon was falling, falling, falling…
And then he crashed to the earth, or the ground, he supposed, with an ear-splitting, thunderous crack, lashing and coiling in his white-hot agony and sending the earth showering down around him.
Hearken now, sons of snow,
to an age, long ago,
and the tale, boldly told, of the One!
Who was kin to both wyrm,
and the races of man,
with a power to rival the sun!
And so they sang.
This was it, he knew. He could feel it pulsing through the veins that held the very same blood as the black dragon. He could sense it with every fibre in his body, down to the very core of his being.
And the Dragonborn looked one last time into the eyes of the dragon, of Alduin, of the one whom he was destined across time and space to slay. And later on, looking back, he would have liked to believe he saw real fear there, behind those endless cruel eyes. Not much, just a flicker.
Muscles tearing against the spell, groaning and grinding and splitting, the Dragonborn lifted his black sword high above his head, and in a blinding flash of light and a note of song deeper than the abyss and higher than the firmament, brought the sword down and through the neck of the dragon, releasing the head from the body.
And it was over just as quickly.
The Dragonborn felt free. As if a great burden had been lifted from his soul. He thought he would be tired, or fall to his knees again, or, if he were being honest, die. Wasn't it his destiny to do so?
He watched Alduin's flesh melt away with his mists and the soul fly free. And then suddenly, it seemed, all the men and women he'd met in Shor's Hall were there, laughing and praising and singing to him. Him! He saw faces and hands and smiles and colours all around, and he felt the heroes touch his shoulders, his chest, his back, his face. He remembered the song they sang, and he was glad.
"Let those that watch from Nirn envy this day!" they said.
"The tyranny of the World-Eater is over!" they said.
"The Last Dragonborn has rid us of evil!" they said.
And then he saw Tsun, smiling down at him. He smiled back.
"This was a mighty deed," he said. "The doom of Alduin encompassed at last, and cleansed is Sovngarde of his evil snare. They will sing of this battle in Shor's Hall forever. You have earned your place amongst the Heroes."
The Dragonborn smiled. Not even this news could dampen his spirits. He was alive, and here, and even though he would not return to Tamriel, he was glad.
"But, I sense, your fate lies elsewhere. Will you be returning to the world of the living?"
The Dragonborn blinked, his heart stopping in his chest. "I have a choice?" he breathed.
Tsun laughed, a deep, free-flying sound, and it fit him so well here, now. "You have always had a choice, Dovahkiin. It may seem to you your path has been forced under your feet time and again. That your journey had but one way, and one end. That all you've met were set upon the path for you to meet. But it is not so."
The Dragonborn looked down at his feet. They had carried him so far, for so long, and he'd thought they would stop carrying him here. His armour was no longer rent, his flesh no longer torn. His heart and his soul his own.
"You have a choice now, Dovahkiin," Tsun said, and the Dragonborn looked up into his eyes. "Stay here forevermore in Shor's Hall. Or return to the world you know."
The Dragonborn's heart soared. It flew like the dragon inside him.
"You will always be welcome here. If you so choose, when you have completed your count of days on Nirn, I may welcome you again with glad friendship, and bid you join the blessed feasting.
But be warned. The life you return to will not be the same as the one you left. The world has changed much. I fear this will be… difficult." Tsun shifted where he stood, and the Dragonborn heard the warning deep in his words. His heart sunk. But not all the way, for now he knew he could go back. He could return. "Such is the price we pay."
The Dragonborn looked around him, at the smiling faces of the heroes, at the unending skies above. He heard the sweet voices of them singing. His song echoed through the timeless valleys of this heaven.
"This place is nice," he smirked, "but I think I'm ready to go home."
Tsun nodded. "So be it."
But a day shall arise,
when the dark dragon's lies,
Will be silenced forever and then!
Fair Skyrim will be free
from foul Alduin's maw
Dragonborn be the Saviour of men!
And so they sang.
He landed in the snow on his knees, the harsh white almost blinding him, and he shielded his eyes. The dragons roared around him like the Heroes did, their wings beating in time with his pounding heart.
"Alduin mahlaan!" they said.
"Sahrot thur qahnaraan!" they said.
"Dovahkiin los ok dovahkriid!" they said.
He rose to his feet. He breathed in deep and long of the cool air and felt the icy wind blast against him. It whistled off the craggy rocks of the Throat of the World.
"So. It is done. Alduin dilon," the dragon rumbled behind him. The Dragonborn twisted around to see him perched on his rock, face grim and sad but free of burden. "You return at last. The Eldest is no more, he who came before all others, and has always been."
He smiled, spirits soaring with the dragons above.
"Yes. It needed to be done, Paarthurnax." His voice felt heavy, as did his body, as if Sovngarde broke free the chains of the mortal world and he had been shackled once more.
The old dragon shifted on his rock, battle-worn claws scraping against the mountainside as he pondered. "Indeed. You saw more clearly than I – certainly more clearly than Alduin."
The Dragonborn frowned. "You don't seem very happy about it."
"Happy?" The dragon said, lowering his head. "No, I am not happy. Alduin had flown far from the path of right action in his pahlok – the arrogance of his power. But I cannot celebrate his fall. Zu'u tiiraaz ahst ok mah. He was my brother once. The world will never be the same."
The Dragonborn felt pity for the old dragon. But he could not bring himself to feel any for Alduin.
"And it will not be for you. The world has changed much since your filok, your leaving. I am glad you have chosen to return." The words echoed those of Tsun's and the Dragonborn felt uneasy.
"What will I do now?"
The dragon raised his head again, towering high above the man below him. "The Way of the Voice is neither wide nor easy. You may live, Dovahkiin, and die in any way you see fit. Dreh ni mah onikaan. But if you stray from wisdom, then to Sovngarde you will not return.
You have won a mighty victory. Sahrot krongrah – one that will echo through all the ages of this world for those who have eyes to see. Savour your triumph, Dovahkiin. For this is not the last of what you will write upon the currents of Time."
Paarthurnax spread his wings wide, swirling the snow around him, but before he could leave the mountain the Dragonborn called out to him.
"Yes, Dovahkiin?" He stopped to look down at the hero and saw him shifting nervously in the snow. "Something troubles you. Speak, and I will listen."
"It's just –" he faltered, unsure how to put it. "I'm wondering – what do you mean by the world has changed?" An icy blast of wind bit the Dragonborn to the bone, and he crossed his arms to keep warm. "I don't like the sound of that."
The Dragonborn did not know if dragons could smile. But if they could, he would have sworn the old one bore a grim, devious smirk upon his time-weathered face.
"Many do not like the sound of the song they sing. And Time is alun praan, ever flowing, ever moving. It is vonmindoraan, incomprehensible. But it is not the same in all planes of Aetherius and Nirn."
The Dragonborn shivered from the cold and the dragon's words. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
Paarthurnax laughed deeply and it echoed off the mountainside. "Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood." He stretched his wings wide again and shuffled on his rock.
"Go, Dovahkiin, and understand. Mindok. Know. It is all one can do."
The dragon lifted his bulk into the sky, and the Dragonborn shielded his eyes from the snow.
"Goraan! I feel younger than I have in many an age!" He circled the mountain once, twice, and flew down the north face and into the storm.
One by one the others took his lead.
And then he was alone.
But he was alive, and here, and even though he had to walk all the way down the mountain and back to the city again, and face the crowds and people and the songs they would surely sing, he was glad. He had his whole life ahead of him yet, a whole new set of adventures to take. And people that he wanted to share them with.
He smiled and set his path toward home.
Tsun - The ancient god of trials. The Nord who guards the bone bridge to Shor's Hall and makes you fight him to enter.
Gormlaith, Hakon, and the mage (Felldir) - The Nord heroes who helped overthrow Alduin and the dragons in ancient times. You learn Dragonrend from them by using the Elder Scroll and they help you defeat Alduin in Sovngarde.
Aetherius - The realm from which the Aedra, such as the Nine Divines, originate. It is the inverse of Oblivion and one of the planes is Sovngarde.
PS - I did not come up with the song myself. I'm not nearly that talented. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction while I'm supposed to be doing work. I took it from the game (you know, the song sung in the trailer).