So, here is my new story. It's about Skyrim... I might have some things that are not correct - IWILL have things that are not correct - so do pm me about them. I do not mind.

Also, for you who are waiting patiently for Tell me what the rain knows, it will be posted soon. I am not joking. Just need to put Asami in his rightful place. Hopefully.


Prologue

As time pass fears and beliefs were forgotten giving place to new fears and new beliefs. What once was taken as truth is now simply fantasy. What once was known by many is know studied by ignorant ones who think they have the answers to many things. The glorious days of the elves, khajiits, argonians, orsimers, bosmers are over. They no longer go by those names. They no longer exist.

They are all humans. Nords, bretons, imperials, redguards.

Over the years that insisted on passing, race after race were extinct. Their existence merely mention on old dusty books hidden somewhere. Or burned. Languages that once were used by said races died with them. Costumes, culture, morals all gone.

The new times, the new Era brought with it a set of new ways, fashions, ideals, rules and races. Those who were once feared and respect by many have their names repeatedly written in books for scholars or said in documentaries also made by scholars. Or they have none.

The seven divines and the daedras are no longer concern of the new races. They still exist but they go by other names, have other blessings. Have other stories. They may as well have been dead.

The countries and cities still exist. They always have, there was no point in changing them. The people ruling them though, have nothing to do with the one from the past. The politics in them have also changed. It is a wounder why Nirn is still called so.

Few try to understand why all of this changed. Many do not care simply because they do not see why understanding something that is lost is important. Everything is important.

A tall figure runs the tip of his fingers over an old hard cover book. The words in it are almost unreadable. The once silver symbol in it completely gone. The name of the book – along with the symbol – is known by many but for an entire different reason.

Dragonborm.

Cold, gray eyes trace the dark cover as if seeing it for the first time. The story it tells engraved in the man's mind. Word by word. The man lifts his head to eyes the library full of other ancient books. Treasures with an imaginable value. If only people knew that the stories each of them tells are as real as the man himself.

A gentle knock on the big wood door makes the man turn its head and mumble a 'come in'. The door creeks open silently, a very elegantly dressed woman walks in. She takes a few steps into the room but does not go near him. Her eyes land on the book on the man's hands before lifting to find deep gray eyes already looking at her. She takes a moment to look at his face. Well combed dirty blond hair complement the constantly cold, gray eyes. The handsome features speak of a much higher age that what the man speaks of. The perfect three-piece suit hiding a well kept, muscular body.

"Master Alduin, we have found the source of the fake drugs. It seems some organization from Cyrodiil have found a way to place them on our market. Some of the members were captured and taken to the warehouse."

Alduin eyes the woman searching for a name to join the face but nothing comes to his mind. Not wasting time with it, Alduin looks back to the ancient book before placing it on the shelf next to the big fireplace.

"I want you to keep them bleeding but do let them live. I have some questions of my own to do."

The woman replies with a 'yes, sir' before turning to carry her boss's orders, exiting silently the room.

Alduin runs once more his fingertips over the book's cover. The last time he saw a dragonborn was when he tried to conquer Tamriel on the 201st year of the Fourth Era. In Sovngard together with the three heroes, she defeated him but did not kill him. He knows his destiny is big and his father, Akatosh will not let Alduin die.

But something went wrong. Something must have gone wrong. Since he was once more pushed through time, Alduin has found himself lock on a human's body. No matter what he does, Alduin cannot turn into a dragon. As the years turned into decades and the decades turned into centuries, the old dragon saw the world change. Alduin saw it crumble and raise again.

And he made sure he was part of it. Alduin built an organization that with time turned into the most powerful mafia group of all Nirn. Given that from time to time, the old dragon has to kill his people and get new ones but he is not worried with that. Alduin enjoys it. To see the face of his loyal men dying by his hands.

The other organizations know to keep their mouth shut even if once in a while they decide to make his life interesting. Yet, the real reason behind all his work is simply to find the dragonborn. The last son of Akatosh who will put an end to Alduin's destiny and save Nirn.

Alduin chuckles at the thought. The dragons who once ruled Nirn are nothing more than creatures of the fantastic. His own name does not even appear in any writer's book from the Beginning Era.

Another chuckle leaves his lips. Humans are so pathetic. They believed giving the new times a new name would change anything. Well in a sense it did. Humans destroyed everything. The Nirn has become so dull and boring. It evolved in a great way. Humans created better, stronger and more deadly weapons, the comfort is a whole new level and the technology – as humans call it – is frightening but so amazing. But the magic that once was so powerful is gone. The Thu'um is not even a myth.

Maybe that is why a new dragonborn as still not appeared. Maybe Akatosh decided to put an end to all that and let Alduin finally fulfill his destiny. But why as a human and not as a dragon? Once more Alduin eyes his library, taking in every single book he has been collection since he woke up as a human before looking outside to the bright aurora sky. Masser bright while Secunda is almost hiding, shy to be seen.

Sighing, the old dragon runs a hand over his hair, messing the perfect style he puts every morning.

"Where are you, dovahkiin?"

The despair in Alduin's voice vibrates over the silent room. He prays for his father to listen to him. To do something. To give him the answers he as been seeking since that fateful day. Growling, Alduin marches to the door. He has some people to torture and his anger is perfect to do a perfect job.

-Skyrim-

"P-Please- I-I have- no m-more..."

Pleadings, screams, whimpers, tears and blood. Lots of blood. Alduin grins at the last living human in the warehouse. Imperials. They were once called like that. Now they stand for Cyrodiils their second common name back in time. They prefer to be called like that so they are not confounded with the Great Empire. Not that it exist anymore.

The Great Empire was what cause the Beginning Era. They were the once rulers of Tamriel composed by emperors and Jarls of Skyrim who wanted to keep their tight hold of power. But like any great empire, it was domed to break and crumble. Every single heir of Akavir died.

Alduin watched it break piece by piece with great satisfaction.

"Do not worry, you will soon join your companions on the way to Oblivion."

The man's eyes grow at the word 'oblivion'. Everyone knew what it was due to storied but not many believed in it. The man though, seemed to believe in it very much.

"p-p-plea-please... N-No-"

Alduin grabs an old ebony dagger, sharp as the day it was forged and places it on the man's forehead. The poor human closes his eyes and starts to pray.