Hey all you readers, lurkers, and reviewers :) I'm just gonna set this right here…
And the non PM crew:
Guest: Haha, thank you so much :) I'm so glad you enjoy my work.
Fallen Maiar: she is indeed. And thank you :)
Kazu: It is never that easy. Come on now. :) and I'm a Stormcloak too, fyi
Jem1912: don't be so sure of that.
Aledis: Awesome, thank you! Take your time :) and glad you enjoy.
And, onward!
-)
I sat in the Cistern that night on the edge of my bed, my heels firmly planted on the ground, my elbows resting on my knees, my head in my hands. The rest of our hodgepodge army was celebrating, drinking themselves into Oblivion out of the sheer relief to have remained entirely intact. The Bee and Barb was full of revelers—they weren't even in the Ragged Flagon. I was as alone as I'd ever been here in the Cistern.
"Sweet Meridia, have mercy," I murmured to no one. "Lord Sheogorath, Lady Azura, have mercy on this cursed one… Shit, Lady Mara, have mercy."
What had I done? Murdered people in cold blood, that's what. And I'm not talking about open combat—I'm talking about the survivors. And then I'd ordered the biggest mass grave in Skyrim, and Odahviing—right hand man to the most vicious dragons to ever disgrace the face of Tamriel—had been happy to oblige. What was happening to me? This wasn't me.
Or was it?
This alien, white-hot rage… was that from me, the Beast Blood, or the Dovahsos? I'd always had a temper, but it wasn't usually so short. Vilkas had always blamed the Blood—after all, he had the same problem. Paarthurnax would tell me it was the Dovahsos making me act out. But I always had this niggling feeling that it was me; that it had nothing to do with any of the supernatural forces singing in my blood, in my very soul. What if Tiberia Morwyn was the monster?
"What are you doing moping around down here, lass? The only reason we won today is you."
My head snapped up in the direction of the accent, though I was pretty sure I knew who it was. I was not, however, expecting to find Vilkas with him. "Don't much feel like celebrating," I replied, putting my head back in my hands.
"Hey now," came the other accent, and its owner cupped my chin, forcing me to look up at the both of them. "I know that stance. It never heralds anything good."
"Seriously?" I said, swatting Vilkas' hand away. "The two of you are ganging up on me? You hate each other."
"There are more important things than that right now," Brynjolf assured me, claiming the spot to my right.
"Like Avalon not murdering us," Vilkas added, dropping into a crouch to look me in the eyes.
I snorted at that—Avalon would threaten the two of them like that—but it quickly changed to an expression of shock when I finally saw, in the Cistern's dim lighting, that Vilkas had a massive, bluish-purple bruise crawling up the side of his face. "Holy Azura, I did that, didn't I?" I gestured weakly to his face.
Vilkas nodded, but it was accompanied by a shrug. "It isn't the first time you've flung me across a room, Morwyn, and it certainly won't be the last your dovah gets the better of you…"
That shocked me even more than the bruise. "This… this has happened before?"
Vilkas' eyes flickered to Brynjolf, silently asking something. Bryn must have nodded, because the wolf continued, "Aye, a few. Usually when you're overly-emotional. Like when Kodlak died, and we attacked the Silver Hand… You remember that, don't you?"
"Aye, but I don't remember ordering a full battalion burned!"
"So that's what this is about," Brynjolf muttered, his hand making warm circles across my back.
My gaze jumped from Nord to Nord, but Talos only knows what I was looking for. "I don't even know who was issuing those orders," I whispered, heavy under the weight of my own cruelty. "It was me, but it wasn't me…" I glanced to Vilkas. "Like when I take the Blood."
"No wonder you got rid of it in the first place," Brynjolf commented.
Both Vilkas and I nodded at that. "But Vilkas… it hasn't ever been this bad." Then, a terrifying thought: "Has it?"
He shook his head readily enough. "No, this was…" he paused, trying to find a delicate way to put it.
"Out with it, Jergenson," I ordered, sounding very much like the Harbinger.
He smiled weakly. "This was something else, my friend. Something…" He glanced to Brynjolf, clearly looking for help.
"Something more akin to Odahviing, or…" Brynjolf paused, drew in a breath, and finished, "…Alduin."
I knew what they meant. "The dragons of legendary cruelty…" I let out a breath. "If you're trying to call me cruel, just do it."
Brynjolf sighed himself. "That was pretty ruthless."
"Aye," agreed Vilkas, almost apologetically. "Not the Morwyn we all know and love."
I had to say it. "What if that was me?"
"It wasn't," both men said at once.
"Your eyes," Vilkas elaborated. "You get like that and…"
"And it's like staring down a dragon," Brynjolf finished when Vilkas dropped off.
The both of them were wary of me; I could sense it in their movements. Although they were trying to comfort me, it seemed more like they were testing to see if the old Tiberia was back and were terrified that the new one was permanent. I hated to see them like that. "That isn't what I meant," I said, resisting the urge to put my head in my hands again. "What if…" I sighed. "…what if the monster has nothing to do with the Dovahsos, or the Beast Blood? What if the monster… what if it's just me?"
"It isn't you," Brynjolf assured me at once, and Vilkas' nod was emphatic, but I couldn't bring myself to believe them. "You aren't cruel like that. Vicious, sure. But not needlessly ruthless."
These two… gods love them for what they were trying to do, but it wasn't helping. "I need Paarthurnax…" I muttered. "Need to know what's normal for a dovah, what's not…"
"What about Odahviing instead?" Vilkas suggested.
Brynjolf's head snapped up. "The Master of the Greybeards is a dragon?"
"Yeah, keep it secret," I said to Bryn, tapping him on the nose, then turned to face Vilkas. "I've never talked to Odahviing… mostly just fought with him."
The wolf shrugged. "You need to talk to a dovah, love. And he's the only one you've got."
Brynjolf scowled at the epithet, but mercifully didn't comment. "Go on, lass. We'll tell Mercer where you've gone."
I glanced from the thief to the wolf and back again, and my face broke out in a weak smile despite myself. "You know, I don't know what I did to deserve friends like you idiots, but I thank Azura for it."
They both rolled their eyes. "Just come back to us, now," Brynjolf said mock-sternly, squeezing my hand as I stood.
As I made my way over to the secret entrance, I heard Vilkas say, "Think we can go back to hating each other yet?"
And Brynjolf reply, "Sweet Talos, I hope so."
-)
The frigid night air whipped past my face as Odahviing rose into the starry sky, but I was too concerned with other things to let it bother me.
I had called him down to Nirn for the second time in twenty-four hours as I stood a ways away from Riften. He had been surprised to be called again so soon, but even more surprised that I wasn't asking for help in a fight—I called him for tinvaak, to talk. He'd said that if we were going to tinvaak, we might as well do it the way dovah were supposed to, and he allowed me to climb up on his back. I situated myself between some of the spines on his back, held on to his horns, and, once we were sure I wasn't going to fall off, he took to the skies.
"What troubles you, mal briinah?" Odahviing's voice was little more than a rumble from my vantage point, flat on my belly against the scales on his back.
"Earlier, fahdon," I said quietly, knowing no matter how loudly or softly I spoke, he'd hear.
"Ah, I had guessed." His wings beat a furious rhythm at his sides as he gained altitude. "You wonder what happened to you, geh?"
"Geh," I agreed. "That wasn't me out there…"
"Geh, it was," Odahviing told me, and the shock hit me in the gut. "Not the fahliil, or even the bron. But the dovah."
"Too many bloodlines!" I lamented.
Odahviing's rumbling laugh echoed in the otherwise silent night. "Tell me something, mal dovah. Of all the dov you have bested, of all the sille…" souls. "…you have gahrot…" stolen. "…how many were vomuz? How many were female?"
I blinked at the seemingly random question, but nevertheless dove into myself to answer it. I still heard all of those souls I had taken—almost a hundred, now—but had learned to block them out, for the most part. Sometimes on sleepless nights they would come roaring back, but as a general rule, I learned to control them just like I did the Beast Blood. But as I allowed them to rush over me now, I realized something.
"Ni pogaan," I admitted. Not many. "A handful at most."
Odahviing nodded, as though expecting this. "And do you remember the grahhe?" Battles.
I paused, trying to remember. "They were the most difficult."
"Have you ever asked yourself why, Dovahkiin?"
"No… should I have?"
"Not necessarily," Odahviing countered. "But can you guess why?"
I shook my head, belatedly realizing he couldn't see me. "Niid." No.
"The vomuz dovah are fewer simply because of their nature." Odahviing was leveling out now, using his powerful wings to glide instead of gain. "They are brit andbruniik, known for their nax and rahgol."
I recognized the first two words from my dreams—beautiful and savage. "I don't understand..." I hated admitting that to the dov.
But Odahviing didn't mock me for it. As a matter of fact, he seemed more surprised than anything else. I could tell because he flat out answered me, "They are beautiful, and savage. Known for their cruelty, their rage."
Oh. "Wonderful," I growled.
"It is not always a bad thing, mal briinah," Odahviing hastened to add. "Rahgol can be righteous, nax justified. Vomuz dovah have the most sulyek of us all." The most power. "They are the vahlokke of our kind, the guardians." His voice lowered, losing its characteristic, haughty cadence. "It is not a job I would wish on my worst hokoron." Enemy. "There is a reason every Dovahkiin has been a mun… until you."
"What, Nirn not ready to be saved by a mere woman?"
"It is not because Akatosh has no love for his daughters," Odahviing assured me, speaking entirely in the human tongue to be sure I understood. "It is because he loves them that he does not lay such a heavy burden on their shoulders."
My brow furrowed. "What makes me different?"
Odahviing shrugged and nearly threw me off his shoulders. "I could not say." Then his demeanor changed. "Do you know what mine zeymah call you?" Brothers.
I cocked an eyebrow, both at the question and his sudden change in attitude. "Dovahkiin?"
"That is a title." Odahviing shook his head. "I meant your name."
My brow furrowed. "No… I don't believe so."
"They call you konahrik, and kro, sah and saviik." Warlord and sorcerer, phantom and savior. "But in this tongue, you are Yolvokunkendov–fire, shadow, warrior."
For the second time in ten minutes, he made me say it. "I don't understand."
"You do not have to," he assured me. "A dovah needs time to grow into his name, geh? You already know most of yours."
"Fire, and warrior," I agreed. I was a Dunmeri Companion; that part pretty much took care of itself. "But shadow?"
Odahviing shrugged again, this time careful not to send me flying. "If you do not know, Akatosh will tell you in tiid." Time.
"There you go with the Divines again… do the dov really need gods?"
Odahviing seemed amused at this. "Akatosh is our bormah, mal briinah." Our father, little sister. "A wuth dovah would do well to remember that." A wise dragon.
I paused. "You called me a vahlok?"
"Geh, Dovahkiin. You are a guardian."
"What does that mean?" Better than 'I don't understand,' still not good.
"It means," Odahviing said carefully, "living with zin…" honor. "…and kah." Pride. "It means laying down your laas, your life, for your zeymahhe and briinahhe, if need be. It means you are mul, you are norok." Strong, fierce.Odahviing and Paarthurnax always break into more and more Draconic when explaining dragonlore. "Ahrk hiu fen ni kos nahlot." And you will not be silenced. "Not by jul…" man. "…not by sivaas…" beast. "...and not by sulyek." Power.
One more question. One thing I had to know. "In Sovngarde…"
"You succumbed to the Yol se Aaz," he interrupted."As it should be."
"The Fire of Mercy… what does it mean?"
Odahviing actually turned his head to get a good look at me, yanking his horns out of my grasp. "Did Paarthurnax not tell you?" I carefully shook my head no. "The Onik Gein forgets! Krosis. It has been a long time since he was young."
"Odahviing…" I began warningly.
"Drem, Dragonborn!" He laughed. "The Yol se Aaz is what the dovah call…" he paused, scaly brow furrowing. "Krosis, I do not know the human word."
I paused, trying to translate. And then, it smacked into me. "Vedod… that isn't black snow, is it?"
"Niid, it is ash."
"Odahviing," I said, hauling myself forward to look him in the eye. "Is the Yol se Aaz what changes a hatchling to a wyrm?"
"Geh, exactly. We are kiin from ashes once more. I do believe Alduin gave you your trial."
It hit me like a warhammer to the gut. "The winter solstice... the one I spent curled in the snow under Paarthurnax's wing on the Throat of the World. After Alduin set me on fire with his soul. That was a... rebirth?"
"Not exactly," he said flippantly, as though talking about the weather. "You are still you, Dovahkiin. You are simply now who you were meant to be. The Sunvaarseyollokke."
"The Beast of Fire and Skies? Surely you don't mean dovah."
"If I meant dovah, I would have said dovah," he sniffed. "Krosis, I do not know that mortal word either."
"Born in ash, and birthed from flame. You might as well be talking about Dunmer in general!"
Odahviing chuckled again. "I do not speak of you blue fahliille."
"What do you speak of, then?"
Odahviing let off a puff of smoke, the dragon's version of a sigh. "I wish I knew, Dovahkiin. I do not like to leave you in the dark."
I snorted black humorously. "You're not the only one who does that."
Odahviing chuckled. "There is a reason I do not mediate on Monahven with Paarthurnax."
"You love battle too much!" I laughed, nudging him with an elbow.
"Geh!" He agreed with a grin. "But take heart, Dovahkiin. You are now what you are meant to be. And there is no sulyek on Nirn that can take that from you."
