Disclaimer: The emblems that separate the scenes belong to Bethesda-actually everything in this story belongs to Bethesda. I can only take partial credit for Mabeanne. :)
Before the birth of men, the Dragons ruled all Mundus; Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Needs; For the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land
High Hrothgar was...
Mabeanne had no words.
There was a peace here; a tranquility she'd not known before and it humbled her. The world ceased to be, cocooned within the monastery as she was. There were no Jarls or Stormcloaks or Imperials. No Thalmor or dragon attacks...
Mabeanne felt as if time had stopped; giving her a chance to catch her breath and adjust. It was a welcome relief.
She lived simply among the Greybeards. Waking before the sun and meditating as it began to rise, studying scriptures and learning the way of the Voice.
The Thu'um would take some getting used to. Mabeanne knew nothing of magic, nor did she wish to, but the Voice was very much like magic and as the days progressed her understanding of the power grew.
Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus; The Dragons presided over the crawling masses; Men were weak then, and had no Voice
She'd had to pass through Helgen-or what was left of it-on her way to the monastery.
Ash and rubble. That was all that was left.
It was in the burnt out husk of Helgen that her resolve hardened. She began to accept who she was, what she'd become.
Witnessing the aftermath...spotting the scorched remains of those buried alive and forgotten...
There were bandits; thieves who'd taken refuge in the charred village.
Mabeanne put her new axe to good use. Her strikes were swift and sure; she'd improved greatly since joining the Companions.
With a trail of bodies in her wake she quickly left Helgen, determined to meet her fate head on.
If this was the path the Divines had chosen for her then she would walk it.
The dragons had to be stopped.
The fledgling spirits of Men were strong in Old Times; Unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices; But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts
She missed Lucia. Missed her innocent joy so much her heart ached.
In the moments of stillness when Arngeir's whispers echoed in her mind long after the old sage had left Mabeanne wished that tiny hand would grip her fingers and squeeze. Lucia always seemed to know when she was getting overwhelmed; the girl wise beyond her years.
She missed the Companions. The heat of the mead hall and the raucus laughter that erupted at all hours. Her Shield-Siblings fought hard and partied harder.
At times Mabeanne found High Hrothgar to be too quiet. She understood the need for silence and she knew that the Greybeards, with the exception of Arngeir, spoke only in true need as was the way of their order...
But the quiet did get to her and it was in that quiet that she wished for Farkas and his lute. Or Vignar and his tales. Or even Vilkas and his constant grumbling mixing with Ria's happy chatter.
Jorrvaskr was never quiet.
Mabeanne found her thoughts straying to Vilkas often during her time in the monastery.
High Hrothgar was filled with books; ancient texts Mabeanne was certain no other beings had seen.
She took every opportunity to read them, trying her damndest to memorize as much as possible.
Perhaps she'd tell him about them once she returned.
That thought gave her pause...
Why was she looking for things to talk to him about?
A couple weeks ago she hadn't even wanted to be in the same room as Vilkas!
Upon realizing what she was doing she'd slammed her book shut and stormed off to her room, irritated.
Irritation was good; much easier to handle than homesickness...
The irritation didn't last long. That night she dreamt of bright eyes and muddy skirts, of laughter and comrades and being where she belonged...
Mabeanne woke slowly the following morning; tear tracks glistening on her cheeks.
Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man; Together they taught Men to use the Voice; Then the Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue
Wuld.
The world blurred as her body was thrown forward. Snow pelted her face, ice chips stinging her skin as she defied the very laws of nature and flew across the yard.
In a graceless heap she crumbled against one of the many pillars that framed the courtyard; the air whooshing out of her lungs.
Mabeanne fought to control her temper; biting the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood.
She then felt Arngeir's hand on her shoulder before the old monk helped her up.
"Akatosh made a mistake." She hissed out, eyes narrowing to slits as she stared down the sky.
"There is a reason you were not given all the answers Dovahkiin." He whispered, his quiet voice as audible in the raging winds as if he spoke at normal volume, "Such power demands respect. Respect you can only learn through experience."
Man prevailed, shouting Alduin out of the world; Proving for all that their Voice too was strong; Although their sacrifices were many-fold
When Mabeanne began to doubt herself, when the weight of the world crushed her shoulders, she thought of the farmers she'd met outside Ivarstead.
They were half starved and covered in soot. Mabeanne remembered the eyes of the woman the most. Lifeless, as if she'd seen things no soul could bear.
The man, Mabeanne assumed he was her husband, had a little more light to his gaze but not much.
Mabeanne had halted Allie, dismounted, and approached their tiny campfire.
"Greetings," She began, the two jumping at her voice, "I'm Mabeanne, A companion from Whiterun. Do you need help?"
They were dressed in plain clothes; no furs or coverings against the cold. The nights were frigid and Mabeanne knew the weather was only going to get worse with altitude.
Their frightened expressions at her well armed and armoured appearance faded into vast relief, "A Companion...Divines bless you!"
The woman sobbed, hand clapping over her mouth in the next instant. Her husband wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "Happened so fast. We barely escaped with our lives..."
"What happened?"
"A dragon..." The woman breathed, voice shaking, "Destroyed everything...Our home..."
"Ssshh love, it'll be alrigh-"
"It will not be alright!" She'd screamed.
"Forgive us Companion, my wife is still adjusting." He glanced at her horse before meeting her eyes, "We're on our way to Ivarstead. My brother lives there. Are you heading that way? We'd dearly love an escort and my brother can pay you once we get there."
"No need." Mabeanne smiled though it felt like a grimace, "I was on my way to Ivarstead anyway, we'll leave whenever you're ready."
Mabeanne helped the woman mount Alfsigr, leading the horse along the path with the farmer at her side.
Mabeanne knew the dragon attack wasn't her fault. Even if she'd already held as much power and skill as the dragonborn of legend she wasn't able to save everyone...
But watching the couple stumble into town with nothing but the clothes on their backs, tattered and stained with the blood of their fallen neighbors...
Guilt had swelled.
The memory drowned all doubt and she took up her training with renewed vigor.
With roaring Tongues, the Sky-Children conquer; Founding the First Empire with Sword and Voice; whilst the Dragons withdrew from this World
She'd fought through Draugr and Necromancers. Braved Queen spiders and traps.
She'd trudged through webs and dirt and blood and bones, the power of the Voice the only reason she'd survived this far...
Mabeanne approached the altar that held the horn of Jurgen Windcaller...
And found a note.
'From a friend' it said.
Mabeanne crumpled the parchment in her fist; gritting her teeth as she made her way back outside.
The Tongues of Red Mountain went away humbled; Jurgen Windcaller began His Seven Year Meditation; To understand how Strong Voices could fail
Back to Riverwood she went. To the Sleeping Giant Inn.
She rented the attic room as instructed.
Her 'friend' revealed herself and Mabeanne swore colorfully as they made for Kynesgrove.
Dragon burial mound be damned. She was through proving herself.
If Delphine didn't believe her that was her problem.
Still. She went to Kynesgrove...and found two dragons.
"You do not even know our tongue do you?" The black monster from Helgen sighed, "Such arrogance, to dare take the name of Dovah..."
Sahloknir, her second dragon, died as easily as Mirmulnir-which was to say not at all.
The battle was long and when the beast fell Mabeanne collapsed...
And then the soul rushed through her.
Memories, battles, death...she saw it all. Sahloknir's life filtered through her being as his fellow's had at the Western Watchtower.
Mabeanne bit back her fear at the sensation. Using Arngeir's teachings to disconnect from the echoes of the dragon.
These were not her memories. Not her death.
As the energies died around her and the power hummed in her veins she turned back to Delphine.
The breton looked at her with wide eyes, disbelieving what she'd just seen.
"You...you really are Dragonborn..."
Mabeanne rolled her eyes and sheathed her axe, "What do you want with me Delphine?"
Delphine's gaze dropped to her boots, "I'll tell you everything now. Nothing held back."
Jurgen Windcaller chose silence and returned; The 17 disputants could not shout Him down; Jurgen the Calm built His home on the Throat of the World
Delphine of the Blades was as good as her word and returned the horn. Mabeanne returned to High Hrothgar.
With Thalmor conspiracies dancing in her head she handed the horn of Jurgen Windcaller to Arngeir.
"You have our thanks Dovahkiin." He whispered and Mabeanne felt her shoulders fall slack. Her quest was done. She knew as much as possible for now.
There were Words of Power to find and no doubt she'd hear from Delphine again...
But she could go home.
Home sweet home...
For years all silent, the Greybeards spoke one name; Tiber Septim, stripling then, was summoned to Hrothgar; They blessed and named him Dovahkiin
Mabeanne tasted the Greybeards' Thu'um.
Their Voices hit her with the full force of a charging mammoth. She felt her hair should have been blown back, the walls shaking as the whole of the monastery quaked with power at their blessing.
She was not the same woman she had been.
There was a part of her she'd not known was there, deep within and hiding beneath the surface.
Before, this new life had scared her; she'd not wanted to be Dragonborn and, to be honest, still didn't.
But her knowledge outweighed her fear, she had a clear purpose, and it was time she set about serving it.
She was Ysmir now and she would harken to it.
The Voice is worship; Follow the Inner path; Speak only in True Need
Mabeanne was attacked a day's journey from Whiterun.
Bandits. Many of them.
Too many for a single warrior...
Child's play for a Dovahkiin.
A moment of True Need if there ever was one.
With a wicked grin, she faced her attackers, and took a deep breath.
"FUS RO DAH!"