A Doom Driven Hero: Dawnguard Prelude – A Looming Darkness

Marcus shifted his legs closer to him, staring into the dancing orange flames of his campfire. The colours reflected in his burning hazel eyes as his thoughts drifted. He thought about the past day, organizing the events into categories in his mind, analyzing what had happened and double checking his memories to ensure no threats had been let loose.

There wasn't much need. It wasn't like he'd cleared out a necromancer den. He'd only killed a few giants and cleared out a troll cave.

That's not to say the trolls and giants weren't threats, but Marcus knew too well that exterminating them was only a temporary solution to a temporary problem. He couldn't kill every giant or hostile animal in Skyrim, and nor should he. The flow of beasts and the like was a natural occurrence, like he'd grown to understand the Dragons to be. Some things were just part of the natural world, for better or for worse. Even Marcus, with all his magical knowledge, Thu'um, and combat prowess couldn't stand against that.

Which brought Marcus back to the same question he'd been asking himself every morning for the last two weeks or so.

What should I do tomorrow?

And it was a question that kept getting harder to answer.

The Dragons were easing up, with plenty deciding to follow under Paarthurnax's wisdom, and plenty more deciding to stay in their reclusive mountains. The remaining hostile ones were coping a beating from the Blades now and again, anyway. The guardsmen in most Holds could deal with the stray threat here and there. The Civil War ceasefire was as wavering as ever, but the actions of Jarl Balgruuf and other like-minded parties were helping it stay stable enough.

Bandits were an ever-present threat, as were rogue mages and the occasional crypt of Draugr, but they weren't as prominent as they had been. Skyrim had been bathed in blood for the last year, and it seemed that some of it may have begun to wash the province clean.

Marcus forced his mind away from such matters, and focused on the tangible things he could achieve. The troll cave he'd cleared out he knew of because of rumors in Ivarstead, and the giants he'd killed were from a bounty. He could go inform Proventus, and the Innkeeper at Ivarstead of the removal of these threats, and it might give them some peace of mind.

Marcus reached into a pocket and pulled out his journal, or his 'to-do' list, rather. Its pages were rather empty, with only a few logistical tasks for the Thieves Guild and the Brotherhood to concern himself with. Trouble would arise in future, as it always had, and he would answer the call, as he always did, but for the moment Marcus was restless, which he didn't want to be.

Because when he was restless, he thought about things. Prolonged introspection was commonplace amongst Dovah, but with a life like Marcus had, with memories that he did, it wasn't pleasant to take a trip down memory lane.

With recent events, of which Marcus forced his brain not to think about, it was even more unpleasant.

Dragging himself back to the present, Marcus told himself he'd head to Whiterun first thing in the morning, turn the bounty in, and maybe brew some potions at Breezehome, seeing as he'd used his previous ones up fighting the giants.

Thinking about Whiterun brought up a few problematic thoughts however. A few people he didn't want to see, for various reasons. There was also someone that didn't want to see him, for a very specific reason. He'd have to make sure he didn't dawdle.

Marcus laid out onto his back and stared up at the sky, waiting for sleep to take him. It took a while. He could see the dark outline of the Throat of the World in the distance, standing proud over Skyrim. His thoughts drifted to three days ago, where he'd visited Paarthurnax on his mountain, following a certain request… or demand, from Delphine.

Paarthurnax bowed his head to Marcus, as the young man approached. "Drem yol lok, Dovahkiin. Greetings."

Marcus bowed back. "Pruzah haas, Paarthurnax." He turned to Odahviing, who was also seated at the top of the mountain. "Odahviing. Kul sul."

The red Dragon nodded.

"Something in you needing an answer? You have not visited for some time." Paarthurnax asked.

Marcus hesitated. "I… I spoke to the Blades a week ago. Somehow, they learned of you, and your position. They… they say you deserve to die."

Odahviing shifted angrily, but deferred to Paarthurnax for an answer.

The old dragon looked at Marcus curiously. "The Blades are wise not to trust me. Onikaan ni ov. I would not trust another dovah."

Marcus was surprised at this, given Odahviing's presence, but the young red Dragon seemed to affirm Paarthurnax's words.

Marcus asked, "Why shouldn't they trust you? Why would you not trust other Dragons?"

"Dov wahlaan fah rel." Paarthurnax explained, "We were made to dominate. The will to power is in our blood. You feel it in yourself, do you not?"

Marcus looked to the side, not finding an answer he felt he could reply with. "I… We were talking about you."

Paarthurnax nodded. "Of course. Trust is only given with… perspective. I can be trusted, we both know this. But they do not. Onikaan ni ov dovah. It is always wise to mistrust a dovah. I have overcome my nature only through meditation and long study of the Way of the Voice. No days goes by where I am not tempted to return to my inborn nature."

Marcus thought hard at this. "I was… not aware Dovah were tempted so much. I thought the temptation for domination was the same as it is for humans."

"What led you to that… 'laat'… Conclusion?"

"The Dragons that followed Alduin. Many have gone into recluse, or otherwise strayed from the same destructive path."

Odahviing chipped in. "That is more due to their fear, outweighing their desire for dominion, Dovahkiin."

"Fear?" Marcus frowned. "Of what?"

"Of you."

Marcus went silent.

Paarthurnax continued. "But to address the Blades' mistrust of me… I ask you this. Zin krif horvut se suleyk. What is better – to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"

Marcus chewed his lip, "I... don't think there's a difference?"

"As I too, believe."

Marcus nodded. He'd never come here with the intention to hurt the old Dragon. He just wanted answers, which he'd received. But with those answers, came another question.

"Do you think my desire for… domination is the same as other Dragons, or just the same as other humans?"

Paarthurnax tiled his large head to the side. "I think that is a question only you can answer. Vahzen ko hi."

Marcus looked down at the ground, remembering all those times he tracked down words of power, climbed mountains to kill Dragons, absorbing their souls to better his understanding of the Thu'um. The times he'd accepted a token of dark power from a daedric lord like Sanguine, whether it be in the form of a flowery staff or something else. How many times had he justified it by proclaiming good moral intentions? Was he right to do so? Would he have achieved any more or less good if he hadn't accepted?

Marcus closed his eyes and sighed. So many questions, and no real way to get answers. The story of his life.

Paarthurnax bowed his head apologetically. "I did not wish to bring you upset. Krosis. I do not know everything."

"Don't apologize, Paarthurnax." Marcus said, giving the dragon a faint smile. "The only architect of my upset is myself. And perhaps Akatosh, in a long-winded way. Ful lingrah."

Marcus inclined his head to both creatures, and began the trip down the mountain. Before long, he reached High Hrothgar. Meditating out in the elements, was Arngeir. The old man stood up as Marcus approached.

"Did Paarthurnax give you the answers you seek?"

Marcus shrugged. "Yeah. Gave me a few more questions though, not the kind that are easily answered either."

Arngeir asked, "What type of questions do you mean?"

"The philosophical sort, about the nature and morality of humans and dragons. And me, of course. Have you located any more words of power?"

Arngeir shook his head. "None that we've heard. You've found most that are easily discoverable. The rest are buried deep, under time and magic, or are simply too far away for us. At this point, you've got as good of a chance to find them as us."

"Is that a side-effect of the Dragon souls? Being more in-tune with the Thu'um?"

Arngeir nodded, "Yes. Amongst other things."

Marcus frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Absorbing a dragon soul doesn't just increase your knowledge of the Thu'um. When you've taken the strongest essence of a child of a God into yourself, your body is bound to get stronger, in more ways than one. Surely you've noticed this, at least recently."

Marcus thought for a moment, casting his gaze to the side. He wasn't the strongest-looking individual, appearing to be more or less a token above average. But he lately he'd found his strength to be about double what one would expect. Whether that was because of his intense knowledge of restoration magic and his constant use of it, the dragon souls, or some deeper side-effect of the other-worldly hardships he'd endured, he didn't know.

Arngeir looked at the man in front of him. Marcus' face was twisted into one of deep thought. Such a serious-looking young man. "What has given rise to your curiosity of your own nature? Your own morality?"

Marcus was drawn out of his thought processes, and his eyes went a little anxious as Arngeir asked his question. Flashes of recent memory flicked through Marcus' mind.

A Dragon's roar. A barbed tail flying through the air, the sickening crunch as it connected with flesh.

"I don't want to talk about it," Marcus said firmly.

The greybeard nodded in understanding, before walking forward and placing a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Do not give yourself undue trouble trying to understand every secret your soul possesses. You have a definite place in this world, without worrying about such things."

"Hmm..." Marcus brushed the old man's hand off his shoulder. "I did..."

Marcus continued walking, walking into High Hrothgar and heading down the mountain.

Marcus awoke next to his campfire. It had died down to little more than embers overnight. He stood up, kicked some dirt over it to extinguish it completely, before packing his gear and leaving.

The trip to Whiterun didn't take too long, so Marcus still had plenty of daylight to get his affairs in order. He made a beeline for Breezehome, but as he was about to enter, he saw the market up ahead. Standing out in the open, looking at Carlotta's stall, was Ria.

Marcus instantly felt the strong pain of guilt, especially when noticing the swell on her stomach. He hurried inside Breezehome quickly. It wouldn't do for Ria to see him, and burst into tears in the middle of the marketplace. It wasn't anything to do with him, specifically, but because of what Marcus reminded her of. Or who, rather.

Lydia came down the stairs in Breezehome, looking happy to see him. Marcus gave her a tired smile. She rarely wore her armour much these days, but she still looked pretty, as always.

"Marcus," Lydia said warmly, walking up and giving him a brief hug. Marcus didn't return it fast enough.

She released him, "How have you been? It's been a while since you were here last."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Marcus said. "Been busy. Lots of people to speak to, these days. Lots of little things for me to do."

"I would've thought after a year and a half of throwing yourself into trouble, the trouble wouldn't stick around."

Marcus smiled. "Yeah, you'd think so. In some cases you'd be right, in others… not much has changed."

Lydia smiled, a hint of sadness tainting it. "You know, you should spend a little more time here, like you used to. No-one says this house is for nothing but storage and potion brewing."

Marcus sighed. "Say I do, and a Dragon burns a Khajiit caravan the following day out on a nearby road. If I hadn't at least tried to stop it, their blood would be on my hands."

Lydia frowned. "You say that like it's a certainty such a thing would happen."

"It's not a certainty," Marcus replied, taking off his sword and dagger and placing them on a chair. "But it's a possibility, and I'm not going to let fate roll a dice to determine the lives of innocents."

Lydia sat down in a chair, looking forlornly at him. "No-one else I've ever seen, or heard of, has pushed themselves like you do, you know."

"Of course not. The key's in the name. 'Last' Dragonborn, remember?"

Lydia sighed. "Don't play this off, Marcus. I'm being serious. What you're doing isn't healthy."

Marcus groaned. "I don't have time for another one of these discussions, Lydia. And for the record, my physical health is fine."

"I wasn't talking about your physical health."

Marcus snorted, and walked towards the alchemy room. "Yeah, cause the history books and ballads really remember the mental status of their heroes, don't they?"

Marcus pushed open the door to the alchemy room. Just as he was about to enter, Lydia spoke out in a desperate tone, louder than before.

"I know why you're doing this," she said. "Throwing yourself at every threat… daring the world to challenge you…"

Marcus, still facing away from her, replied in a firm voice. "Then you also know you're not going to change my mind."

Lydia looked hurt. "What happened to Erik wasn't your fault."

Marcus turned back to face her, startling the young woman with the pained look in his eyes. "We both know that's not true."

Then he walked inside, closing the door and locking it.

As Marcus exited Breezehome, he saw a group of three travelers enter through the main gates. Two of them wore basic fur armor, and carried maces. The third wore a heavy black cloak. Something about the group seemed a little 'off' to Marcus at a glance.

As he closed the door behind him, Marcus examined them closer as they moved over the short bridge. The two in fur armor moved… blankly, if that was possible. Like they hadn't actually made a conscious decision to put one step in front of the other. They also seemed to defer to the cloaked individual for orders.

Marcus got a feeling something bad was about to happen. His hand slowly strayed towards his sword. The cloaked individual raised an open-palmed hand to one of the guards to his right, and Marcus could see the white air of frost curling through his fingers.

Marcus had already drawn his sword and was running toward the group when the ice spike launched from the cloaked man's hand into the unsuspecting guard. The guard took it in the centre of his chest, collapsing almost instantly. The man who'd fired the ice spike threw off his cloak, revealing a pair of glowing orange eyes, and a freaky nose. A vampire, clearly. A relatively powerful one, too.

Marcus raised his left hand and paralyzed the first of the men in fur armor, who he now knew would be thralls. He then switched target and fired a powerful thunderbolt at the second one, blasting him backward and disintegrating him before his corpse even hit the far wall. The vampire fired a second ice spike at the second guard at the gate, who, after seeing what happened to his associate, threw himself off the short bridge into the artificial stream below, the shard of ice barely missing him.

As Marcus ran past the paralyzed thrall, he lashed out with his sword and sliced open its throat. The vampire turned to face Marcus, who was now almost upon him. The undead man snarled in anger as he saw what had happened to his two thralls, but didn't look particularly worried.

The vampire raised his sword, a jagged thing made out of a dark metal, and blocked Marcus' overhead swing. The two blades clashed over the combatant's heads, a loud ringing noise filling the air.

The vampire snarled at Marcus, their faces only a foot apart. "Your kind is finished! We cannot lose!"

Marcus stared back, his eyes unyielding, and issued his reply.

"Yol… Tor Shul!"

The fire breath shout wasn't exceptionally powerful, but at such point-blank range it literally exploded the vampire's head. The charred corpse flew backwards, skidding along the ground. A few guardsmen ran over second later, only to see the battle already over.

"Many thanks, Marcus," said one of them, recognizing the Thu'um and assuming the young man's identity. "You sure showed them."

"Hmm..." Marcus looked distracted. He knelt down to inspect the vampire's corpse. If there had been any clues on his body to indicate why he'd decided to attack a city, a letter or the like, it was burned beyond recognition. "Why would a vampire attack Whiterun?"

"Not sure," one of the guardsmen replied. "This isn't the first time though. A similar thing happened three weeks ago, then two weeks before that. Though, those times there were only two."

"Huh..." Marcus thought hard for a moment, before standing up. "If this happens a fourth time, go let my housecarl, Lydia, know. She'll be able to inform me, and I'll be able to put a stop to it. Hopefully, this was just an isolated two events, maybe connected to a displaced coven or something."

"Yes, thane." The guardsmen nodded, and set about cleaning up the mess.

Marcus looked back at the corpses, getting a bad premonition about the entire affair.

Marcus finished up his affairs in Whiterun, avoiding any more conversations he didn't want to make, before taking a carriage to Ivarstead and then walking to Riften.

As he walked along the shore of the lake, Marcus saw a familiar figure walking in the opposite direction, towards him. The jester outfit looked ridiculously out of place in the wilderness.
"Oooh!" Cicero gasped in delight. "Listener! What a fabulous surprise!"

The jubilant man danced his way over to Marcus who folded his arms and waited.

"What are you doing here Cicero?" Marcus said, none too patiently. He wasn't a big fan of the psychotic jester, but he served his purpose well and didn't complain, which is more than Marcus had any right to ask.

"One of the contracts you heard from Mother, dear Listener," Cicero said jovially. "It brought me to this little slice of Skyrim."

Marcus asked, "What was the contract?"

"A naughty thug of the Black-briars," Cicero explained, his smile turning sinister. "He crippled a poor fisherman in a shakedown. The wife was none too pleased indeed, asked for a helping hand from us."

"Oh yes," Marcus nodded. "I remember that one. How'd it go?"

Cicero's smile widened. "A knife to the throat in the bathtub. Unseen, silent, and horrendously messy."

Marcus sighed. "You know you don't have to smile so bloody wide when you say that?"

Cicero feigned mock shock. "But Listener! Isn't it important to enjoy what you do as a living?"

"Ugh… fine. Give my regards to the Night Mother."

"Of course, Listener!" Cicero nodded emphatically. "But do be sure to give some regards yourself, in person. You know how Mother gets lonely..."

Marcus nodded. "I'll be heading that way soon enough. Just got some things to take care of in Riften."

Cicero nodded in affirmation, bade Marcus farewell, then continued on his way. He hummed a jaunty little tune as he disappeared. Marcus shivered. Cicero was indisputably loyal, but he still managed to unnerve him.

Marcus continued towards Riften, admiring the lake as he walked around it. The rift was probably his favourite part of Skyrim, aesthetically. The countryside was just so pretty, with the orange trees, and the mix of mountains, forests, and lakes. In another life, he might've liked to live here.

Marcus came up to Riften's gate, and was held up by the guards.

"Hold there," one of them said. "Before I let you into Riften, you need to pay the visitor's tax."

Marcus reached up and pulled back the hood he'd added to his armour. He'd forgotten he'd even had it up.

The one who'd spoke "Oh, it's you. Sorry, didn't recognize with the hood and all. Give Brynjolf my regards."

"Will do," Marcus nodded, moving to head inside the city. He didn't get a chance.

An arrow struck Marcus in the shoulder, causing him to stumble forward caught off-guard. The two guardsmen drew their weapons, as a small group approached.

As Marcus turned around, he saw it was a similar group to the one from Whiterun. One vampire, two thralls. One thrall had a bow, while the other had a great-axe.

The two guardsmen charged, engaging the second thrall and the vampire. Marcus pulled the arrow out of his shoulder, and drew his weapons. Up the back, he could see the archer thrall nocking another arrow. Marcus spun his dagger around to hold it by the blade, and threw it overarm towards the archer. The blade spun past the combatants and sunk itself into the man's chest, dropping him for good.

The second thrall got taken down by a guardsman, so the Marcus charged at the remaining vampire, and after a brief skirmish, the three men brought the vampire down without serious injury.

"Gods..." breathed the guardsmen who'd tried to extort Marcus. "That's the second time this week. What in Oblivion is up with these vampire attacks?"

"This has happened before?" Marcus asked, his face creasing into a frown.

"Yeah..." nodded the second guardsmen, looking out of breath. "And two weeks before that. Seems those vampire hunters that keep coming through are right about the growing threat."

"Vampire hunters?" Marcus was getting concerned now. He hadn't been to any of the major cities for a few weeks, and it seems a lot of things had been happening.

The first guardsman nodded. "Yeah, surprised that haven't asked you to join up, given how you fight. From what I've heard from carriage drivers, the last two months have seen a huge spike in random attacks, like this one. It was small at first, but they seem to be increasing in frequency, so some people are reforming a group of vampire hunters or something, in an old fort south-east of here. What were they called again..." The guard scratched his head, searching for a name on the tip of his tongue.

"Dawnguard." The other guard said. "They were calling themselves the 'Dawnguard'."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. He remembered the name from a book he'd read, some time ago.

"Dawnguard, eh? Huh."

Marcus turned to face to the south-east. It looks like he had a proper task to write down in his journal, after all.

Author's Notes: This is a shorter chapter I wanted to put out just while I gather my thoughts and ideas for the rest of the Dawnguard arc. Hopefully this showcased Marcus' new mentality and whatnot, and hinted to events that have brought rise to this.

For anyone who cares, it's been around in-story 2 months since the last chapter.

Thank you for reading.