Okay, the next chapter.

Anyway, a big thanks to HereLies, who wrote a great 'comment' about the chapter, which really assessed loads of it! He also gave me a great idea… Secondly, to RaptorZeroOne, who wrote the review about Ulfric's son. (Always great to read so I can look at rumours that er going around.) Next to HowYouRemindMe, who gave me another great idea which will be used eventually, I just have to fit it in. Also, thanks to Foacir for the author alert (new stories will be coming out soon, as well as my flagship, 'Seasons', aka this story.) And thanks for liking what was essentially his work, seeing as he gave me everything I needed for the chapter. Look at Ch. 36. See that last bit; that's my bit; the end sentence. Finally, thanks to DraGGonized; I don't care that it is short, I love it anyway.

Okay, I loved this chapter and I'm gonna love the next few ones even more. You'll see…

Jon Dovahkiin

Jon Dovahkiin strode into the monastery, his cloak flapping behind him. The Main Hall was empty, so Jon took a left and made his way down the twisting corridors, searching for Argneir.

'Argneir! Where are you?' Jon turned the next corner and came across him, waiting in a chair by a small table. A book lay opened in front of him.

'Yes?'

Jon put down his annoyance and moved towards the old monk. 'I need to know something. It's very important; do you know the thu'um that viik, defeated, Alduin?'

Argneir's face darkened and he closed his book. 'Why?'

'Because it's the only way to defeat Alduin,' Jon told him.

'Who told you this?' Argneir's voice was icy.

Jon stared at the monk, determined to back him down. 'The Blades.'

Argneir exploded, standing up suddenly. 'Those meddlesome usurps! They have no comprehension of what they are doing! Krosis! Why are you with them? No, I don't care. You have been misguided and controlled. It's a poor fate, but one to be expected from a lesser man.'

Jon's rahgot, anger, boiled over and he exploded in turn. 'Lesser man! I am NO PUPPET! At least the Blades have tried to help me!'

'You are not ready!'

'Tell me true Argneir; when were you planning to tell me!' Jon thundered. 'After I was dead? Or when a hero of your choice turned up!' Jon's voice dropped, menacingly calm. 'Tell me.'

Fear flashed across the old monk's face, before it returned to its smug calm.

Jon's throat tightened, and he turned. The other Greybeards stood around him. 'This is foolish, Argneir,' he told the monk. 'You know that I could still best you all, even now.'

One of the other Greybeards began to talk, his thu'um echoing through the room…

'Silence,' Jon said, his voice rippling across the room. The Greybeard tightened, unable to speak, and Jon turned back to Argneir. 'I need to know.'

The energy sagged from the Greybeard and he sat. 'Please, take a seat.'

Jon nodded, his anger evaporated, and sat. 'Tell me. I need to know.'

'I don't know it.' The truth looked like it was painful for the old monk to admit. 'I don't care for it either. It is a dark shout, one that should never have been taught.'

Jon nodded. 'Where can I learn it?'

Argneir looked up at him. 'It is time you met our leader, Paarthurnax.'

Jon stood out in the winter air. The snow was heavy, but he didn't feel it. Argneir stood next to him, his robes swirling around his body.

'The path is dangerous, for those who lack the proper means.'

'And how can I reach it?' Jon said curtly.

'The snow is thick, but remember your voice, Dovahkiin, your thu'um. With it you can move mountains.' The Greybeard retreated and left Jon alone.

The Dovahkiin turned to the strunmah, mountain, path and stepped into the blizzard. Instantly, the snow encased his cloak, turning it white and frosting his hair. He stumbled out of it quickly, dazed by the impact of the magical snowstorm.

Jon coughed out some snow and faced the path again. How can I get rid of this fog? Argneir said use my voice, but am I even that powerful? I'll have to try.

He summoned his strength and selected several rotmulaag, words of power, before attempting to use his new shout. His thu'um boomed, but to little effect, merely pushing the snow away before it engulfed the path again. Jon retried it, with more feeling, but the results were almost the same. Jon decided that he needed to commit to the thu'um, and reached down inside himself, drawing out his strength, forcing it up his throat. He struggled with it and muttered the words. This time it worked.

The snow was blasted away, flying into the abyss, pushed by the blue and silver energy. Jon's throat felt a little raw, but nothing he couldn't handle. He stepped up the path, treading carefully.

It only took his ten minutes to reach the top. The climb had been hard though, and Jon was breathing heavily. He rested his hands on his knees before gulping in fresh, summit su, air, and walking forward, into a large clearing dusted in snow. He felt stone beneath his feet and here the blizzard was gone, but it still swirled around the peak viciously. Obviously powerful magic was at work. Jon shuddered.

He took a look around, but noticed nothing of interest, except a large, broken wall covered in draconic. Jon approached it, warily, his hand on his zahkrii, sword, when the wind picked up. It blew at his hair and cloak, nearly pulling Jon of his feet. He tried to grip the snow as a shockwave knocked him back down.

Jon pulled himself up, wincing at the dull pain, and looked up into the face of a dragon.

It was massive, at least as big as Alduin, but unlike the World Eater, glitteringly white. It's golden eyes, again opposite to Alduin's, exuded warm and trust, and as he turned, its spikes and claws gleamed silver. However, he was clearly wuth, old. Although its muscles were still strong, Jon wasn't sure if dragons ever did age properly; several of his silver spikes were chipped, or cracked. His scales had a very faint, greyish tint to them and when he opened his mouth Jon noticed that a few of his teeth were either missing or chipped. His white wings, large enough to cover Jon's house, had a few cuts and tears in them. They looked a little weak. Regardless of this though, it was still awe inspiring.

Jon stood and looked at it, awe struck. In turn the dov, dragon, looked back at him, the golden eyes scrutinising him.

'Welcome, Dovahkiin,' it said in booming, clear voice. It was unmistakably male, as he could tell from its voice and dominant stance. In many ways, he resembled Alduin.

'You're a dragon,' was all Jon could say.

The dragon opened its mouth and made a strange clacking sound. Jon guessed that was laughter for a dov. 'Yes, I am.' He agreed. 'My name is Paarthurnax.'

'You are the Greybeards, Master?' Jon asked, uncertain.

'Yes. And I have been for many years, in fact.'

'Then I come before you, mighty Paarthurnax, for a request. Argneir said that you may know the great thu'um. I must learn it, if I am to defeat Alduin.'

'Drem yol nok. I know of your quest, Dovahkiin. Indeed I do. I have waited three Eras for the one who would destroy my zeymah, brother.'

Jon was shocked. 'You're brother is Alduin?'

'This knowledge displeases you. Onikaan ni ov dovah. Why would it not; after all, he is your greatest enemy. I know of your others though; Tullius, Delphine-'

'Delphine? What do you mean?'

'Perhaps I have said too much.'

'No, no.' Jon was confused. 'What do you mean?'

Paarthurnax ignored him though, absently looking at Jon's face. 'You look like him, you know; your bormah, father.'

'What... You know my father?'

'Yes, and no. I do know who he is, but not personally. I never had that honour.'

'Who?' Jon asked, his original purpose forgotten.

'He is not great, or mighty. Certainly he was krill, brave, a strong quality, and one often overlooked by the dovah. And while we are talking about family I suppose you want to talk about my brother. That was your original question, after all?'

Jon was dazed, but he put aside his thoughts on family, for now, and focused on his task. 'No, it wasn't, Master. I need to know the great shout.'

'Dragonrend, eh? I understand why. It was the only way the old heroes were able to defeat my brother.'

'He was defeated before,' Jon asked, confused and curious. He had never heard this part before.

'In a sense,' Paarthurnax agreed. 'But not truly. Instead they used a kel, an Elder Scroll, to push him forward in time. To you, who is destined to defeat him. But before I can tell you more, I must know if you are worthy.'

'How can I prove this, Master?'

'Greet me, as the dov do. Breath your yol, fire, at me, and I will do the same.'

Jon wasn't prepared to argue, but he wasn't sure if he would survive a direct hit by the old dragon's breath. He prepared himself and shouted; 'YOL!'

Fire burst from his lips, as Paarthurnax released his, not fire, but frost. They collided with a shattering impact but then dispersed to nothing, swirling away on the wind.

Paarthurnax looked immensely pleased. 'There is only one who can withstand my breath, Dovahkiin. That is Alduin. Yes, you are a dov. You deserve your name.'

Jon wasn't entirely sure what the old dragon meant, but he could tell he had been highly complimented. 'Thank you.'

'You speak our tongue, yes?' Jon nodded. 'Then I shall speak it.' They both made the change effortlessly. 'Much better,' Paarthurnax said. 'Now, first about Alduin, before I talk of Dragonrend. You must know your enemy.'

'He is technically not as old as myself. He has been trapped in time, for Eras. Only now has he escaped. Myself and Alduin are brothers, whereas the other dragons are spawn of either myself, in my younger days, or Alduin, or indeed some lesser being. However myself and Alduin are the children of Akatosh, the great dragon. Alduin is the firstborn, I being his younger brother. He is not that much older, only a hundred years or so.' Jon was baffled by the concept of a hundred years being a small amount of time, but he supposed that time was different to a dragon. 'To my knowledge, we are the only children of Akatosh. Alduin is the greatest of our race-'

'Excuse me, master. But why would Akatosh, the King of the Gods, create beings such as yourself to terrorise his world?'

'There are always bad apples, Dovahkiin. We were such. As a result, being the first of our kind, the others took after us. It was unfortunate, but we cannot change that now. But that is irrelevant. You must understand this: Alduin is strong; his fire will burn through even your dragon-skin. His scales are hard, and he has not aged as I have, being stuck in time. If we meet again, Dovahkiin, I will do my duty, but I cannot best him. And we will meet soon…' Jon felt a deep sense of foreboding in Paarthurnax's final sentence, but he put it aside. There is only one way to defeat Alduin…

'Can you teach me the shout?' Jon pressed the ancient dragon.

Paarthurnax looked up, at Jon. 'No, but I can show you.'

Hope that was a nice long, (and good) chapter. I tried to make Paarthy as badass as possible because he is SO much better than the Blades. Please, review and I'll follow you home!