All he could feel was the sensation of falling again. Well, perhaps falling wasn't the most accurate word. That would be floating. Floating through the nothingness of the Void. No life, no death, no souls, no matter, no light, no no darkness, no sound, no hope, no despair. Nothing but the empty and infinite void. A place in which time nor space existed. A hollowness unlike any other.
It is said to experience the sheer emptiness of the void is akin to reading an Elder Scroll. Those rare few who made it back alive were deathly mad. Screaming incoherently, eyes wide and bloodshot, mouth foaming like a rabid dog. Those who returned always died by nightfall. No exceptions. Perhaps Sithis cursed them for their hubris. Perhaps mortal minds were simply never meant to look upon the infinite terror that is the Void. Perhaps it feeds upon their sanity like a parasite. Perhaps all of these, or none of it. For nought Alduin, Lorkhan, Akatosh, or even Hermaeus Mora could decipher the endless abyss for what it truly was. Even the Gods have their own Gods, after all...
He knew not what was true. None of it mattered in this place - if it could be called a such a thing. Daedra, Aedra, Magna Ge, mortal or immortal. All were equal here. All were the same here. Nothing. Reduced to a floating conciousness forever cursed to eternal and seldom solitude. It was akin to being a freshly born babe. No concept of morality, physicality, time, or even life and death. Just... A state of existing in that which does not exist.
But he knew this wasn't the Void. It couldn't be. He yet drew breath, and thusly was something. Yet the difference mattered little. A void was still a void, Sithis or not. And so he floated through the empty darkness powerless to do anything. How... Poetic. For thousands of years he ruled over Atmora, and later Skyrim with a fist of relentless cruelty. He had criminals and innocents alike burned to cinders in his honor. He had genocided entire species and races and conquered lands unheard of all in the name of his Divine birthright. For centuries he brainwashed generations of Man into worshipping him with undying loyalty and endless faith. And where did that end him? Alone in the abyss? Wounded and broken and barely alive? Forsaken by his many brothers and his father alike? Brought low and defeated by those thought incapable of even ruling themselves... Ironic.
Of course he regretted none of it. Fear kept them in line. The odd sacrifice reminded them of their frailty. The conquering of new and virgin lands fueled their ambitions. And the defeat of new and powerful enemies kept them loyal. A delicate balance. A prosperous kingdom. One cannot rule without committing necessary evils.
If they would rebel so fiercely... He would employ harsher punishments. One way or another they would bow before him! Like they did before. Like their ancestors did. Either they bow... Or he will consume them all. Their flesh, their souls, their children, their entire world. And then he would start over in the next Kalpa. After all, as wounded as he may be, he could not die. Such was the potency of his Father's blood. Such was the potency of his Godhood that, when at full strength, no weapon of any origin - be it Aedric, Daedric, or something else - could do so much as even scratch his adamantine scales. But he was far from being at in his prime, far from the power he once knew... Far from the respect he was once owed. Curse the Dovahkiin... Curse him and all of his descendants! Curse them to the black waters of the Azure Chasm! May Molag Bal have his way with that filthy waste of Dragonic blood...
Why couldn't they understand? Once they did. Once they loved him and killed for him and worshipped him. Now they scream when he is near, they sing tales of him being a heartless monster. A monster... They are the ones killing each other! Slaughtering their own babies for some petty mortal men! They prove his point with every breath! Every blade stained in blood is a blade stained in sin... What honor is to be found in slaughtering your own brothers and sisters? Or caving in the skulls of little boys and girls? Or robbing the ancient dead of their holy artifacts for a little more political influence? They have no honor. No love for their kin. Nothing but greed and bloodthirst. They have no honor! No bravery! No man should be king unless he proves himself using the Old Ways! The way that dread Alduin had taught the first of their long dead Kin. The most important rules numbered four.
Live by the sword, die by the sword.
Kin slaying is to be punished via execution without being resurrected.
Never kill those weaker than yourself, unless in self defense or if the direness of your quest is great enough.
Never reanimate the dead. To enslave a fallen brother or sister is the worst, most wicked of sins. To reanimate the dead is tantamount to summing a Daedra and forging a pact with them. The punishment for Necromancy is death via man-eating worms.
Necromancy. The mere thought of the blackest of the Black Arts put a foul taste in the Firstborn's mouth. Necromancy was a foul, sinful, blasphemous thing. Even that traitor Paarthunax wouldn't steal away the hard earned death from the already slain. They all knew that life was cruel enough to the mortals. Let them rest, at least until the End Times. And if all things go well... Maybe there won't need to be an End Times any longer. And for those who prayed to him, sought his guidance, and obeyed his laws, well... The secrets of immortality were his to give away.
Sorry about the shortness of this chapter, I have plans for the next one. But the truth behind my lack of writing is I am working on something a little special. A one shot, specifically involving two emperor themed characters. I'd suggest keeping an eye out for that bad boy.
Guest — ah, yes, you speak of the tale of Anu, the first being to ever exist and Anui-El's Oversoul. They are similar, yes, but also very different from the Brother Gods.
For one Anu created Padomay so that unchanging order may experience the ever changing evolution of chaos embodied, Padomay, the Oversoul of Sithis, who in turn is the Oversoul of Lorkhan, which by proxy makes Padomay indirectly responsible for mortal kind. From the... For a lack of a better word, 'blood' of Anu and Padomay came Anui-El and Sithis, and from their blood came the Et'Ada, and from them the Aurbis and the Mundus and the mortals. A fun story theirs is.
UPDATE: My next chapter is almost finished, and I fixed a minor error I made in this chapter. Aside from that, next chapter will focus on the girl. I won't reveal her name, that's for the next chapter. Anyway, expect that new chapter later today or tomorrow.