A/N - Alright, so this chapter took a bit longer than normal for me to get out there. Quite simply, it's turned into my longest chapter yet at over 6,000 words! :O Needless to say, it took a bit more time to edit... It's been a long time since I've written such a long chapter...
Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, and yet another head-canon coming up below!
~D~
XXI. Embrace Destiny
(Mahlov Dez)
Vahlok swallowed, his face pulled into a grimace behind his mask. There was a corpse lying on the altar, brutalized beyond recognition. The body was covered in bruises and lacerations, the blood dried on peeled flesh. Bones jutted from nasty wounds, and it's side was split open, revealing discoloration underneath. Whether it had been male or female was completely indiscernible in its mutilated condition.
The sound of footsteps reached him, and he tore his revolted gaze away, turning it to a servant hurrying towards him. The young man was pale, his eyes carrying a haunted expression. His robes were dark black, stark on his skin. When he spoke, his speech was quick, fearful.
"Lord Hevnoraak will see you now, Lord Vahlok." His eyes darted, paranoid.
Vahlok responded through clenched teeth, trying to push down his rising anger. "Very well."
He followed the young man through the poorly-lit corridor. Small, cold, blue, magickal lights outlined the walls of the hall, barely penetrating the darkness, leaving it unwelcoming. He could feel the murkiness of each room and hallway they passed through, as if a kind of malicious magicka lingered in them. A twisted scream came from the distance, rebounding down the halls, echoing through the chambers, an eerie note. It made his guide jump and inhale quickly for a few moments. Vahlok shuddered, trying to contain his abhorrence.
Their destination was closer to the entrance than Vahlok expected. Not long after they had set out through the corridors and halls, they arrived in a large, grand room with a throne at the end. Here, a dark-robed man sat, wearing no mask - Hevnoraak. His throne room was illuminated by the same lights as those in the hallways, but also contained large, flaming braziers to provide more light. Vahlok heard the guide quickly excuse himself, as if to get as far away from his master in the shortest amount of time possible. The visiting priest removed his mask slowly, which was expected in another Dragon Council member's throne room. Still, he clutched it, wary and unwilling to stow it away in his robes, to make it harder to reach.
"Ah, Vahlok," Hevnoraak stated. He leaned against his throne languidly, voice deceptively sweet. "I'm pleased you found the time to visit, as I requested."
"What do you want, Hevnoraak? I'm a busy man now, what with this war."
"It has come to my attention that this...rebellion could have been quelled long ago had we taken care of a certain...outlier." Hevnoraak's uncovered face turned to him. His skin was shockingly pale, almost white. Some of his long, dark, gray-streaked hair fell out from under his hood, tangled and unbothered. The lines on his face were more pronounced in the torchlight, flesh wrinkled in age, but stretched over hollow, gaunt cheeks. Still, there was a maniacal brightness in his eyes that defied his apparent age, an unnatural energy in a man aged more than many of his peers.
Vahlok met his dark gaze unflinchingly. "I suppose you want me to hear again how this is my doing?"
"No, Vahlok," Hevnoraak mumbled. "I do not think you need to hear it again. What you do need to realize is that the longer you pretend you are not at fault, the more...catastrophic your mistake becomes." He unsheathed a dagger at his hip, staring at it in the orange glow of the nearby flames reflected in its surface.
Vahlok leaned against his staff, refusing to be unnerved. "I see bigger problems closer to home. My mistake, as you are so fond of saying, has already refused to help the rebels."
"You still keep contact with this...vax? This traitor?"
"No, it is obvious. He's too prideful to align himself with peasants. Even he knows he'd lose the little respect he has...which has become important to him."
"You should have ripped out his heart when you had the chance."
"Perhaps..." Vahlok's face was expressionless, giving away nothing.
"He has ignited a nationwide rebellion... The message was clear; the dovah could die by mortal hands. I do not like your carelessness." He stated frankly, digging the dagger into his thumb until it bled.
He's becoming angry. Vahlok observed.
Hevnoraak stood up slowly, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, but he never broke eye contact with Vahlok. He raised his hand and sucked on his bleeding finger. He pulled it away after a few moments, face stretching into a grimace of pure agitation. Vahlok knew that he didn't care for the pain he'd just inflicted on himself. Most likely, he hadn't even noticed. He felt his annoyance trying to surface again, but he was practiced at reining in his feelings.
Vahlok, making his voice uncaring so as to give nothing away, quipped, "I shall endeavor to worry more about your feelings of the situation in the future."
"No, no, no...no, Vahlok. I don't want to hurt you. I want to hurt...and kill Miraak... I want to slice his wrists and hang him from a hook!" He sheathed his weapon with a sharp click. "I want him screaming, and then begging for an end!" He took a deep breath, as though trying to overcome his anger. "We need to bring him down ourselves, as it seems most of the dovah are more concerned with useless peasants!" He spat. "Even though I do not like it, I need your cooperation..."
"My weapons are required elsewhere. Miraak will fall to his own power. He has allied himself to darkness."
"Really?" Hissed Hevnoraak, pacing now. "Then why is he growing in strength? Three of our most powerful priests have defected to his side already. How is this not a problem to anyone else besides me?" His fist slammed onto a bloodstained altar. "Peasants are nothing… but a man who can slay the dovah sends a signal that we of the Council are weak and incompetent! No one will DARE question my abilities! No one! Not the peasants, not you, not Miraak, and not the damned daedra he serves! The rebellion is nothing! Miraak is the problem!" His veins showed quite visibly.
Vahlok struggled to maintain his composure as he met those scorching eyes. He could feel the fury radiating from them. He knew that when Hevnoraak became angry, someone was going to pay the price. He didn't like the thought that he might be that someone.
Calmly, though, he stated, "you have become obsessed with the traitor, Hevnoraak."
"Obsessed?"
"Yes. I agree that Miraak is troublesome, but our attention needs to be focused on the rebel leaders. Paarthurnax has taken to aiding them, as I'm sure you have heard. He's our more pressing problem. He is a very powerful dragon, and I cannot fathom why he would ally himself to them, but we-"
Hevnoraak interrupted with a serpentine hiss. "And a man with an unnaturally powerful thu'um, that has killed piles of dovah, that serves a daedra lord is...merely troublesome?" Hevnoraak approached Vahlok, who tensed. He stood a few feet away, on the balls of his feet, tensed like a coiled snake, ready to strike. "You didn't see how he tore the soul from a dovah that was clearly his better...it's something beyond magicka! Not only that, he survived a stab in the chest with vast amounts of blood loss, alone in the wilderness, and dosed with very potent poison. That, dear Vahlok, is beyond troublesome!"
Vahlok had to resist backing away. He knew showing any fear would definitely not help him now and would lose him any advantage he may have had in the conversation. He was glad for his years of training, able to keep his expression a stone mask despite whatever he might have been feeling.
He responded, trying to keep his tone reasonable. "Right, if he is keeping to himself for the moment - let him. We need to wait until our forces are not divided before we attack him, so that we can finish him. We don't need another failure in trying to defeat him, or we'll lose more dovah. He is obviously more powerful than you're willing to react to realistically."
"Realistically?! Letting him go now is not a realistic response to this problem! We kill him now!"
"He is too powerful for you, though, is he not? He escaped you."
Hevnoraak hissed, hands flexing, and for a moment, Vahlok thought he'd attack. Instead, the agitated priest turned slowly. He seemed to be grappling with the impulse to strike, struggling to gain control of his emotions. Much less relaxed, he returned to his throne.
"That is why I require your help," He muttered, voice cold as he leaned his elbows upon the arms of his seat. "Most will not aid me. Even those who first spoke of putting Miraak down have decided they have more pressing matters at the moment. Konahrik, our soft-hearted warlord leader, is with them. The others...well they are all too weak. I haven't been able to contact Morokei, and I can't track him down, even though, the last I had heard of him, he was rallying the fighters in Bromjunaar Gaard. He will not respond to my letters."
"Then...what do you want?"
"Help me defeat Miraak. Again, I want you to know that I do not like admitting that I require your assistance."
Vahlok stared at the other priest, his eyes narrowed in distrust. "I don't like this, Hevnoraak."
"You are not required to."
"Let's say I do help you. What exactly is your plan?"
"Lord Juskkeinfaaz and a few other dovah have agreed with me, surprisingly. Juskkeinfaaz Thuri is willing to set aside some resources for this as long as it is a quick mission. Convince the dovah you are directly worshipping to help you. You're good with persuasion, am I wrong? In a swift overnight journey, we reach the north, we corner Miraak in his own temple, and catch him by surprise."
Vahlok frowned. "That's not going to work!"
Hevnoraak ignored him and continued, "I will move in first, draw him out. I will also weaken him with my magicka. I have a particularly immaculate spell for this mission. He will be weakened. Thuri Juskkeinfaaz and the dovah will attack him. While he's distracted, we deliver the killing blow."
"And what of his followers?"
"I've heard they've...well, my informants state that he has lost many of them. Many were peasants that wished to assist in the southern rebellion. And the defected priests? None of them are as powerful as Miraak. We bring him down, and they won't stand a chance."
Vahlok exhaled, realizing he wasn't going to get through to this deranged man. "Why should I help you, Hevnoraak?"
Hevnoraak smiled darkly, tone sweetening again. "Well, my dear Vahlok, I will tell you why, in case you are far more imbecilic than I remember. If you don't help me, then I will incarcerate you here, and...let us say...encourage you to change your mind."
There was a loud noise, a roar, that rumbled through the temple. The entire room shook, and the sound of crashing claws scraping the roof reached their ears. Whoever owned those claws was very large.
"Lord Juskkeinfaaz is here." His smile grew. "What's the problem, Vahlok? ...don't tell me you refuse, not when everything is lining up so neatly."
Vahlok was scowling. Then, he let that fall away, emptying his expression. "Fine, Hevnoraak. I don't wish to waste my energy fighting you." He ignored the savage grin breaking out on the other's face, the one that never reached those dark eyes. "However," He said, trying to break the look of victory on the other's face. It worked.
"What?" Hevnoraak asked, looks twisted with fresh annoyance.
"You must let me be the one to kill Miraak." He let that statement hang in the air.
"...Why the change of mind?"
Vahlok closed his eyes. "He is my mistake, as you say… He has always been."
"Very good, I'm glad you agree with me...now, there's some other details we must go over. Then, we will meet Lord Juskeinfaaz. I imagine he is getting impatient."
Miraak focused upon the world around him, his thoughts pulled inward to the feeling of his magicka. The world was alive, he knew, thrumming with the power he felt burning in his veins but also around him in the air, the trees, the sky. He felt so different now, capable of seeing existence shifting as the currents of magicka that flowed through it, powerful. He had learned that reality was entirely different than he'd anticipated. He knew so much, all gained from a short two weeks with the Dwemer. Hermaeus Mora had not been wrong about the edge it would give him. He almost regretted doubting his mentor.
"Magicka…" he muttered, remembering what Nebrec had said. "The will and the ability to change the world's composition. That is all it is."
He stood in a small grove, the gentle swaying of the trees surrounding him nearly mesmerizing now that he could sense the power in their very composition - life. The snow fell gently from the sky, flurrying as softly as down feathers drifting from a bird's nest, faint with their own compositions that could be manipulated. He knew he had never appreciated the world in such a way before. He had never recognized that his own power was only possible because of that which was around him.
With everything he had earned, and everything he now knew, he regretted none of it. He knew that his destiny was his, and he would soon claim it, face it, and embrace it. And he knew it would not be long now.
The stars were not out, but it was not dark here. The whiteness of the snow easily reflected even the smallest sources of light, however faintly it shone, choked out by the clouds above. As he observed the world, he became aware of another person nearby. He turned, his attention focused upon them.
Dukaan approached him. How she had found him here, he wasn't certain, but he did not ask.
"I'm here to request permission to leave," she announced without preamble. "Not, your service, see, but your temple, as did the others."
He looked at her, his eyes betraying surprise from under his mask. He finally registered that she wore her own mask, its silver edges glinting in the light.
"Leave?" He echoed. "Ahzidal and Zahkriisos had the right idea, in your eyes? Not to mention over two-thirds of the workers and warriors who left for the south to join the rebellion?"
"I don't know what they sought. Frankly, I don't care," she adjusted her mask, looking away for a moment. "I want to create a temple for myself. I want to be remembered beyond all of this."
"I see. Then we can create a temple for you...but you don't have to leave. I could help you."
She scowled, looking directly at him and narrowing her eyes. "I'm reasonably certain that you didn't help the others with their pursuits."
"And I am certain that you do not know what they wanted," Miraak replied evenly, staring at her mask.
In annoyance, she pushed at the snow with her foot. "You really expect me to believe that you gave them this trouble?"
He said nothing for a moment. "You should not have changed your name," he stated unexpectedly.
An unhappy chuckle escaped her. "You do not know me well, do you?"
"Perhaps not," Miraak said. "But my perception is not off this time."
"Thank you...I appreciate it. However, history will remember me as dishonor."
"History has a bad memory," Miraak said. "You don't need to feel regret… I want you to understand that you have no more dishonor than I. We saw opportunity and took it. Serving the dragons was wrong."
"Serving the dragons was wrong, maybe, but I had a duty to them. I abandoned it on chance that it was wrong." She looked down again. "Unlike you, I feel like I have no purpose now."
"You have the purpose of being who you are...Zin."
"Then I have a problem, don't I?"
"No, you simply invented a problem so that you may say something that sounds wise on it." He stood before her, closer than before, his green robes as eerie and unsettling as she remembered. Her gaze fixed on his mask.
"I have been called...dramatic before," she admitted. They stood silently for a moment. Then, she whispered, "Like water and fire, the worlds collide and spring away, hissing, burned by one another."
"What was that?"
"A fragment of...a poem."
"What is the full poem?"
"It'd be of no interest to you, I am sure."
"I know a poem. Tell me yours, and I will tell you mine."
She felt nervous, which she instantly disliked. Nervousness did not suit her. Worse still, she was uncertain as to why she felt that way. What could possibly be unnerving about telling this man a poem - a simple, harmless, pointless poem?
"If you insist." She recited, "Two worlds stand, far apart, reaching, but never alert. The wind blows a winter gale through the trees. A springtime bird takes the sky away. The summer dries thoughts into the dust. Autumn leaves spiral down, leaving memories beyond. Reborn, the worlds reach. Like water and fire, the worlds collide and spring away, hissing, burned by one another." She nodded inwardly to herself. That wasn't so bad, so why did she still feel nervous?
"Do you understand its meaning?" He asked.
"I do." She did not elaborate to him, and hoped that he did not ask her to. Thankfully, he did not.
He said, "My poem is...well, my mother used to tell it to me quite often… She said it was mine." He cleared his throat. "Allegiance guide. Replace the cold dying light. Save us with warm white. Give us a chance to see, the old world that thrives where new should spring. Take heart… That world will cease to be."
"And you understand its meaning?" She returned his question, her heart pounding for no reason whatsoever. She hoped she wasn't showing her unease.
"I do."
"Allegiance guide...Mir-aak. About you. Your mother understood your destiny… Do...do you find that odd?"
"I do not know what to think of it. Somehow, she knew, and that is enough for me. What is important, is that I now know what that destiny is."
"I-I...see."
"Are you leaving?" He asked, stepping closer.
She tensed, her stomach knotting inexplicably. She could not tear her gaze away from his, even though she wanted to. He was far too close! She silently cursed her nerves. What was wrong with her?
The sound of beating wings carried through the air, and both looked up. Instantly, Miraak tensed, rage boiling in his chest. Dukaan would have been relieved for the distraction, if she were not also instantly ready for battle.
"Drem yol lok," the dragon greeted, flapping its wings to stay aloft above them. "I come in peace."
Miraak felt pure disbelief. He recognized this dragon. It was Alduin's brother!
Has he changed his mind? He wondered for a moment before the dovah's words sunk in. No… Peace?
Paarthurnax peered down at the mortals that had been dubbed traitors. One was the dovahkiin, the dragonborn, he could smell it in the blood in his veins, sense it in the soul in his body. Miraak was his name, he recalled. The other mortal had a scent he remembered from the Council; one of three that had defected to Miraak's side. He didn't know her name. The dragon eyed them, curiosity within his heart. He knew, as he'd known before, that with Miraak, he was not speaking with just any mortal that had come before him; he was speaking to a dovah.
"Peace?" Exclaimed the dragonborn. He burst into a scathing laughter, "and so the great and mighty Paarthurnax, brother of Alduin, is afraid of me?"
"Afraid?" Paarthurnax snorted. "No...ni faas...not fear. I wish to speak. Tinvaak between two of the dov, from one respected warrior to another."
"No dragon has ever wanted peace from me, except for those who were afraid of death. Why would I want to speak to you?"
"Yes, Hakon did say that you were headstrong…" The dragon said thoughtfully. "I wish to discuss...you, dovahkiin. What that means."
"Let him speak," the woman murmured. "Paarthurnax has aided the rebels. He is as much of a traitor to the Dragon Order as we are now. I don't believe he's here to fight."
Miraak looked at her, hesitating. "He does not seem very treacherous, does he? But this is Paarthurnax, Alduin's brother."
"I want to speak of the truth of my brother Alduin," Paarthurnax said. "And of you, dovahkiin."
"Fine," Miraak conceded. "If there is any trickery, I will kill you like all the others."
Paarthurnax landed, the ground shuddering. "Yes, headstrong indeed. You remind me of Odahviing."
"What do you want to speak about, dragon?" Miraak asked, tensing as the brother of Alduin looked upon them.
"Patience. Prem. We have not greeted each other, as befitting of two dovah," Paarthurnax said. "I will not be so rude to you, dovahkiin."
Miraak felt irritated. "I am not a dragon. I am nothing like you."
"Are you not?" Paarthurnax asked. "You feel the allure of power. Suleyk. You are mul...strong, and you neh sahto...you will never back down. You will not show fear. Stubborn. Rahgron. It is easy to feel anger. Qualities of a dovah. You have dovah sos ahrk dovah sil, nuz jul buld."
"What is your point?"
"If not for your dovah side, then will exchange pleasantries with a fellow vax, rebel, to the Dragon Order? Or will you refuse that?"
The woman whispered, "he is surely no enemy."
Miraak looked into the face of the dragon before him, completely struggling to understand what was happening. This creature was not looking down upon him. It was treating him like an equal! The cruel overlord Paarthurnax looked nothing like the wicked, self-proclaimed god he remembered. There was no harshness or anger in his voice, no superiority. Looking upon him now, he seemed...friendly, and he would never have assigned such a word to the dragon without good reason.
He is seeking something.
Miraak felt a compulsion from his inner dragon. He had not felt that for some time, for he'd found the balance with the dovah inside. However, it did not feel different from him now; there was still that stability he had achieved. Instead of conflicting with him, the dragon felt like him, like an older version of himself, only accessible because of his dragon soul. He did not completely understand, but he felt strangely calm around Paarthurnax.
Equal. The dragon seemed to explain. I am an equal. Every other dragon has looked down upon me, and that made me outraged. To be recognized as worthy of respect has soothed my anger.
Miraak relented. "So be it. Let us greet one another."
"Back away, joor," the dragon said to the other mortal. "This is not a greeting for those outside the dov." When she had done as he had requested by retreating several steps away, Paarthurnax reared his head, eyes glinting with fire. A bright glow burned in his chest. He opened his jaws and shouted, "YOL!"
Miraak had never been greeted by a dragon before, and had his instincts not assured him that this was an attack, he may have responded as such. Instead, he accepted the greeting and felt the warmth of the flames, scorching hot. They did not harm him, though, and he felt his dragon soul revel in the greeting, pleased to be accepted as such. It struck him how odd it was to feel so grateful to be welcomed. He felt strangely empowered by the other's thu'um simultaneously.
He stood, unable to stop the amusement that planted a smirk firmly upon his face. "That is your greeting?" He questioned.
"Yes. Now let me taste your fire, dovahkiin!"
"And so I will!" Miraak allowed his power to flare, the dragon in him rearing itself. "YOL TOOR SHUL!" He responded.
The wave of fire washed over the dragon's face. He rumbled joyfully, shifting his weight to his legs. He beat his wings in the air, throwing snow. "Dovahkiin! Dovahkiin, indeed!" He exclaimed, lowering back onto them. "It has been long since I have been properly greeted by a dovah. Those in the Dovah Relahmik, the Dragon Order, have long since feared my rank to dare greet me as an equal, and now I am traitor to them." He snorted, smoke pluming above his nostrils.
The woman slowly approached again, eyeing Miraak with a look of awe and respect. She'd removed her mask. "That was a first for me," she whispered, looking to the dragon.
"What is your name?" Paarthurnax asked, looking directly at the former priest.
"Duka-"
"Zin," Miraak interrupted. "She is Zin. Honor."
"Zin." the gray dragon said welcomingly to her. "Unslaad krosis. I cannot greet you so formally,"
Again, Dukaan stared at Miraak for a minute, then back at the dragon. She said, "I understand."
Miraak asked the dragon. "You wished to talk? What about?"
"Akatosh," responded the dovah promptly, shifting slightly.
"Akatosh?" Miraak returned. "That sounds familiar. I feel as if I have heard such a name." Inwardly, the dragon stirred at the word.
"Akatosh is bormah...our father, dovahkiin, though we have forgotten him."
"Ours?" Miraak echoed.
"Ours. Akatosh created the dovah...created Alduin and I. He created you, dovah-kiin." He put emphasis on the 'dragon' in Miraak's title.
The dragonborn said, "What nonsense are you speaking?" Still, his inner dragon felt it was truth, even as his stubborn side wished to ignore it.
"You do not have to believe it, for it will only be a matter of time before you sense his presence. The more attuned with tiid...time you become, the more the father of it becomes apparent." Paarthurnax said. "Seeing you, dovahkiin, reminded me of a time when I was very young...goraan. When Alduin was the crown of Akatosh's creation."
"What do you mean?"
"You were his message to me," Paarthurnax responded. "I realized it, and it made me rahgron...angry at first because I refused to believe that Akatosh still watched over his children...Tol bormah ulaak fah ok kiirre. I ordered the priests to oversee your dinok...death, dovahkiin, but they failed. That was when I remembered what was; Alduin had strayed. We had strayed, and we had not even noticed." He hung his head slightly. "I was ashamed. Zopaak do dov. I flew through the skies of Vus...of Nirn, until I remembered. I immediately sought out and spoke with the rebels…"
"What exactly...did you remember?"
"That there was a time when Alduin was not the doom he had chosen for himself. Ok vorey tet. He was once the ideal that all dovah strove for...until he was corrupted. He in turn corrupted the dovah. This corruption will always be, unslaad Alduin." Paarthurnax's voice was sorrowful. "I had forgotten how we once were. Father did not intend corruption, and I do not know how it started. Perhaps in Alduin's pride, a being such as the firstborn dragon on Nirn would change from such…"
"You're saying," Miraak responded slowly, not bothering to hide his disbelief. "That Alduin was not always so cruel and monstrous? That the dragons were not always this way?"
"Yes…"
"But it is the dragons' very nature to destroy and conquer!"
"Because Alduin made it so, in his hunger for power. We have forgotten, but perhaps there was a time when we resisted changing. Or perhaps we changed so slowly, we did not notice. I do not remember...but I do know that we were once truly glorious. When Alduin turned, that changed. It is now that I realize that we cannot continue on this course, or we will face destruction. Dov fen oblaan. That is why I chose to help the rebels. Alduin has corrupted us, but he has not completely corrupted joor eylok. Mortal-kind." He sounded even more morose. "I knowingly help to bring an end to Alduin and all dovah if necessary. Akatosh is ashamed - all of the aedra are. Stahdim eyra. It is my duty, to do what is right, though it brings me no joy."
Zin whispered, "You believe the dragons unable to be saved?"
"Alas, I do not know… I will do all I can to see Alduin destroyed. If we succeed, I will try to remind the dovah of what was, and perhaps Father will forgive. However..." He looked at them keenly. "Dovahkiin, I believe Bormah gave you to us to show that it is time for the dov to withdraw from this world. That is why you bring death to us."
Miraak stared at the dragon, feeling a strange sorrow wash over him. He was sure that it came from his soul - his dragon soul, recognizing the end of its kind. He felt true remorse, looking upon the dragon framed in the falling snow. Still, he knew it was right, necessary, and that remorse did not reach his skin, but stayed within him.
"Then fate has decreed," Miraak said. "I am surprised that you admit this… Paarthurnax."
Paarthurnax exhaled, his breath sending eddies of snow from the ground. "As am I. If nothing else, Dovahkiin. I believe that you are the sign that Alduin can fall. That you...were meant to slay him."
"And so I shall."
Paarthurnax let out a surprised huff. "Hakon said that you would not fight him."
"I said I would not fight Alduin with the rebels. They are far too violent to be given the power that will be left in the wake of the World-Devourer's death. If they liberate Skyrim, it will fall to chaos."
"Careful, dovahkiin," the dragon responded calmly. "Do not let the dragonblood form such thoughts in your head. That is what made Alduin fall - the need to control others."
Miraak shook his head, feeling frustration. "I will not let the world plummet into such blood-filled chaos again. The sacrifices, the wars, the fear. It will end. I may have dragonblood, but I am not immortal. It sounds as if Alduin's immortality corrupted him. Imagine, had he been meant for death, he would probably not have been altered...there wouldn't have been time for that."
"Hmmm… Yes, you are not of mind of the dovah, even if you are of body and soul. Perhaps that would protect the world from corruption, knowing that if one did become corrupt, he will eventually face death."
"When the Dragon Order has fallen, Alduin shall die by my hand as well," Miraak said. "That is my destiny now."
"The entire dov will feel his end. I cannot begin to know the consequences."
"I feel it is meant to be, do you not?"
"Yes...still, I am wary, as you should be." Paarthurnax dipped his head. "I sense great change coming, dovahkiin. Prepare yourself.
Zin spoke, her voice as gentle as the falling snow. "We will do what we can, Paarthurnax. I will endeavor to see us succeed," she looked at Miraak. "To see Miraak succeed... Dovahkiin. Dragonborn."
Miraak looked into her face, and a jolt of surprise and realization ran through him. She looked strangely unreserved, her usual icy facade absent. There was an assurance there, and despite everything, she looked as if she had just had a revelation. Miraak knew that she would not leave his side, and he felt a warmth in his chest, of gratitude...and something else that he could not identify.
"Thank you, Zin."
"I will take my leave," Paarthurnax said. "Perhaps we will speak again. Vonok, Dovahkiin. Aal dez kos hin zeymahzin." He spread his swings, sweeping the ground and throwing snow into the air. He flapped a few times to gain the sky and spiraled away, silent in the snowy night.
Miraak realized that his hand clasped Zin's. He looked into her eyes, not certain who had actually initiated the hand-holding. With his free hand, he reached up and seized his mask. He felt the drop of power as he pulled it off, but he didn't care. He tossed it to the side, listening to it thump in the snow.
He was fixed upon her eyes, and he found that he missed the way they glittered when the stars and moons were not veiled by clouds. He wanted to see them sparkle with light again, here and now. He closed his eyes and focused upon the snow around them, manipulating the magicka they held with ease. He opened his eyelids. The falling snowflakes glowed, like stars, and Zin's eyes glittered the way he'd wanted.
She laughed at that, a clear undistorted sound of strange joy. She wore no mask, metaphorical or physical, and neither did he; their true faces were both exposed. He pulled her close and kissed her, unable to stop the impulse while she was so close, so bright. After a moment, he pulled back to stare once more into her shining eyes. She giggled, her face flushed, showing a side of her he hadn't known. Truthfully, he also felt a side of himself he hadn't known.
"Stay with me," he murmured, breathless. "And we shall rule an empire. This world of tyrants and false gods will cease to be. I do not have to face it alone, I sincerely hope."
"I will stay. I want it. I want you," she responded, hanging onto him, letting go of her former nervousness. She'd already determined that before, she hadn't yet come to terms with her feelings. Now, she knew exactly how she felt. "I will stay with you…for as long as we live." She laughed again, voice clear.
She pressed their lips together again, and not long after, they were back at the temple, collapsed upon his bed. It was cold. No fire had been lit in the brazier yet, but neither felt the chill. No, not when they were ready to spend such a night, embraced by desire and hope. Both had found something they had not known they would find, and they wanted it so dearly.
.
Dovahzul translations - (the dragons are back!) :D
Vax - traitor
Thuri- my overlord
Drem Yol Lok - Peace, Fire, Sky
Dov - Dragonkind
Ni Faas - Not fear
Tinvaak - Talk/Speech
Prem - Patience
Suleyk - Power
Mul - Strong
Neh sahto - Never quit
Rahgron - Angry
Dovah sos ahrk dovah sil, nuz jul buld - Dragon blood and dragon soul, but man shape.
Dovah Relahmik - Dragon Order
Unslaad krosis - Apologies(literal translation is: Unending sorrow. However, Paarthurnax employs this as a way of apologizing in-game)
Bormah - Father
Tiid - Time
Goraan - Young
Tol bormah ulaak fah ok kiirre - That father cared for his children
Dinok - Death
Vus - Nirn
Zopaak do dov. - Shameful of dragonkind.
Ok vorey tet - His other title.
Dov fen oblaan - Dragonkind will end.
Joor Eylok - Mortalkind(literal: Mortal Species)
Stahdim eyra - Holy aedra
Vonok, Dovahkiin. Aal dez kos hin zeymahzin - Farewell, Dragonborn. May fate be your companion.