4E 221, 18th of Second Seed.
Blood and gore. Gore and meat. Meat and teeth. Those were the only thoughts echoing through his mind. He sat huddled by a rock, which was also stained with blood. The battlefield in front of him had been opportunity. Thalmor agents had managed to get so far into Skyrim, only three hours east of Falkreath. Twenty one soldiers. All of them ripped to pieces, parts of them completely devoured, bones stripped of flesh. A familiar scent entered his nose. He smiled.
"Hey." Lydia said, crouching down to him. He smiled weakly, trying to stand. His body wouldn't allow that. His bones and muscles still burned even after several hours of relaxing. "Here- I'll carry you." She picked him up and put him on her back. Lydia was already forty, too old to be carrying him.
"I shouldn't let you do this." He said. "You could injure yourself."
"If I hurt myself carrying you, I wouldn't be doing my job." she laughed, smiling at him. He looked around at the trees, the snow, the rocks. "Darkus, you've been gone for a week."
"I see…"
"It's the eighteenth. We're going to Whiterun, how does that sound?" she asked, smiling warmly. Darkus looked down at the ground. He was sixteen in two days, the length of time it would take for them to get to the central city. Lydia must have seen his grimace, as her smile also failed. "What 's wrong?"
"I can't help but wonder if my parents would be proud." He sighed, burying his face into her muscular back.
"Listen, we have to head out immediately after we get home." She said, rounding another corner. "You'll have to get dressed on the way." For the next two hours she carried him in silence, until they came upon Lakeview Manor. The coach waved to them, and they smiled back. "Whiterun Jork."
"Aye, ma'am." He answered as Lydia set Darkus down. Lydia set out a pair of leather boot, pants, and a cotton shirt. Darkus gave her a quick smile and began getting dressed.
"Your parents are proud of you." she said, ruffling his black hair. "They know what you've been through. You've had a rough life." Darkus finished putting his boots on, and looked back at the house.
"You sure are fond of saying that." He said. "They're dead. They've been gone since I was four." Lydia gave him a pained stare. He was much taller than both of his parents, partly due to the fact that he was born a pure-blooded werewolf, and that also made him a good foot taller than Lydia too. He was thin, though he also looked like a monster with how defined his muscles were. However, the most striking thing about him was his face. He looked exactly like his mother. He had the face of a beautiful noblewoman, he had her icy blue, fire like eyes, and the straight black hair. He had no real defining traits from his father, the only exception being his violent and warrior nature. He always had to fight something.
"I say it because it's true." Lydia replied, tossing a sword to him. "Your parents are… alive, in a way. They had to fight an army of Dragons that would mop the floor with Alduin- trust me, I met the guy. Not exactly a basket of sunshine- and they destroyed them all, then they disappeared. They are alive." Darkus snorted, much like his mother used to.
"They ran out on me." He mumbled. "If they're really alive, then they ran out on me." Lydia sighed again.
"Anyways, I have to tell you that I'm leaving for a few months." She explained, grabbing his shoulder. "I'm going into Cyrodiil, on a military operation. Ralof and Hadvar are coming with me, don't worry." Darkus couldn't imagine why she would go there. The Thalmor had control of every province, with the exception of Morrowind, Elsweyr, and Skyrim. The only thing that kept them from absolute victory was the alliance between Ulfric Stormcloak and Maximus Tullius, who controlled the Skyrim Military. "I'll be back, okay?"
"Yeah," Darkus replied, looking toward the border.
"What's been going on with you?" she asked him, turning his face to her. "You've been getting steadily more passive aggressive for the last two years, exactly like your father." Darkus shrugged, breaking away from her. "Fine. you brought this upon yourself. Jork!"
"Yes ma'am?" He asked, turning his head only slightly.
"Stay at this steady speed, and don't be afraid. It's a good thing your pop left me with this-" She angrily sighed, stretching her back, arms, and neck. "Paarthurnax!" She screamed, releasing a wave of energy Darkus had never felt before. Within moments, a Dragon appeared from the clouds. "Jork, stay calm. He's with me." Darkus nearly jumped off of his seat when the the ragged reptile swooped down next to him. The beast turned, and began hovering.
"Greetings, Punah." The soothing deep monotone boomed.
"Don't call me 'female' Diiv." She coldly responded. The dragon bowed his head.
"Apologies, friend." He replied. From his tattered wings to his respect of lesser mortals, not to mention his name, Darkus realized that he was the dragon that trained his father. "Druv lost hi bel zey?" Lydia gave him a rather angry glare.
"I need you to tell me what's wrong with him." She replied, pointing to Darkus.
"Offspring? He is of natural naramriin age, it is normal-"
"No, not that." She interrupted. "Why is he becoming more like, well, more like you immortals?" the dragon leaned in and took a long sniff. "Oh, great."
"He has the soul of a dragon, similar to his bormah." Paarthurnax replied, turning his head to Lydia again. "It is, however, bruzah. It's fragmented; incomplete." Lydia groaned angrily, slapping her forehead.
"Thank you for the obvious uselessness, I want to know something more specific!"
"It is his drenkiin, his natural instinct to dominate." He answered, gaining a relieved sigh from Lydia. "It burns within him stronger than it does even me, maybe even enough to rival Alduin. However, he is geltkey, he cares about mortals too much. He wants to remind the joor that that's what they are- mortal, easy to kill, and cannot live forever."
"He wants to show them that he is above them?"
"To an extent." He replied. "He wants to prove himself suleykaar, powerful, yet he also wants to protect his ragnavir, family. He wants to help people that are good." Lydia turned to the dragon.
"You got all that from his eyes? I'm impressed." She laughed. "What news of the dragon army?"
"No advance."
"Now I know the truth then." Lydia said, grinning happily. "So they really did become part of the scrolls, didn't they-?" Paarthurnax began laughing. "What?"
"The Kelle wouldn't accept a dragon's soul, let alone tw mortal ones!" He barked. Lydia actually grabbed his snout, and pulled his eyes right to hers.
"Oh yeah? What about thousands of dragon souls? One World Eater?" She asked, grinding her teeth with seething rage. "They put a barrier around us, the dragons can't attack, even if they wanted to. The scrolls accepted my Thane's offer, and kept this continent safe for this long. But I can feel it, can't you? The air, which was rich with magic for the last fifteen years, since the day they disappeared. It's saying our time's up. We need to act soon." Paarthurnax sighed, realizing that she was right.
"What would you have me do?" He politely asked. Lydia looked back at the shocked Darkus.
"Look after him. If he needs help, give it to him." She replied, placing her hands on her hips. "I want you to gather up any other dragon you can to fight by his side. The Dragon War will resume in less than six months. Darkus needs to be ready." Paarthurnax nodded and flew away. The two of them didn't talk until they were it was late evening on the twentieth; his sixteenth birthday.