Prologue: Apocrypha

17 Evening Star, 5e 001

16 Years Ago...

Arctan Alontius had been on dragonback before, when Odahviing had flown him from Whiterun to Skuldafn, during his desperate final play against Alduin. Even with his mind occupied as it had been - just as it was now - he had been able to appreciate the absolute beauty of the landscape he was flying over. Now, though... Arctan was disappointed at the view. It was just a massive lake of churning muck, with a few shattered and twisted islands jutting out of the nothingness. He had entered the world that he was in now, Hermaeus Mora's personal plane of oblivion, on one of those, and with the assistance of Sahrotaar, the blue serpentine dragon which he had shouted into his control, he was flying towards another one.

Flying towards your death, a voice resounded in his mind. Paarthurnax had warned him that, should he face Miraak at the summit of Apocrypha, his death was guaranteed - but so was Miraak's, leaving the world safe. All he hoped was that his Lydia and their little Arenna, only about a month old, would be safe. His line of thought was cut off as Sahrotaar came to a harsh landing, and Arctan slid down off of the blue dragon's neck. There was the enemy he had been hunting, but had not seen, for over a month.

"Miraak," Arctan growled, putting his hand on his dragon bone greatsword and drawing it from his back. Miraak laughed, looking as if Arctan, the last dragonborn, posed him no threat.

"So... The first dragonborn meets the last dragonborn, at the summit of Apocrypha," Miraak droned with a chuckle. Miraak drew his own sword, in preparation for the battle that was inevitably coming. Miraak took a breath to continue speaking, but Arctan wasn't in the mood for listening to droning speeches - he knew that he was going to die here, and he was going out on his own terms. So he preempted Miraak with the first three words of power he had ever learned.

"Fus… RO DAH!" Arctan's voice blew Miraak backwards into a rather large pool of acid. Dragons roared all around Arctan, as Sahrotaar and two of Miraak's loyal dragons took to the skies and began to duel each other. Miraak, however, was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, Arctan heard a familiar, very dangerous group of words coming from his left, and hit the ground, just as a massive wave of energy passed over his head - a mass that, had it made contact, would have ripped his soul from his body and killed him instantly. Arctan chuckled as he rose.

"That's how you want to play it, hmm?" Arctan muttered, glaring at Miraak, "Well, you'll be pleased to know that two can play that game." Arctan took a deep breath, and shouted again, uttering a much more powerful, deadly utterance.

"Rii… VAAZ ZOL!" An identical wave of energy was flung forwards from Arctan, about to smash into Miraak. Come to think of it, it would have been better to open with this second shout, killing Miraak without risk. Maybe if he had, he could have proven Paarthurnax wrong and survived this encounter. Well, too late now. Arctan's only goal was to take Miraak down with him.

However, Arctan soon realized that it wouldn't have mattered. Miraak quickly threw up an effective ward, which blocked most of the effect of the shout, and the first dragonborn only flinched backwards as the ward broke, rather than being blown to the ground and killed. However, that brief flinch was a window for Arctan to attack, and he took it. The last dragonborn charged the first with one of his famously terrifying Nord battle cries, and took a massive swing at Miraak. Miraak, already off balance, simply allowed himself to fall backwards under the swing and into the acid pool. This time, Arctan saw what happened. Miraak was grabbed by several tentacles which stretched out of the acid and pulled him under. Arctan whirled and looked up, and saw Miraak appear out of another pool of acid on the opposite side of... whatever this structure was. Arctan couldn't claim to know. Arctan did know, however, that he had to close the distance between himself and Miraak quickly. He knew just how to do that.

"WULD NAH KEST!" Arctan felt his Thu'um being thrown forwards, and felt as he was dragged forwards with it. Arctan immediately recovered from the massive distance-covering dash and swung his massive greatsword at Miraak again. This time, Miraak didn't have the opportunity to dodge, and was forced to try and parry Arctan's greatsword with his own smaller one. It didn't work very well, as Arctan felt his swing carry through. Miraak growled in pain, and tried to dive back into the acid in order to transport himself again. Arctan knew better than to let him once again, as Arctan didn't think he would be so lucky as to land a second hit. Instead, Arctan tackled Miraak into the acid... and felt them both get yanked under, into a void covered in Hermaeus Mora's rotting aura. Arctan felt Miraak struggle in his grip, and knew that he had won.

"FUS RO DAH!" Arctan shouted, right into Miraak's face. The last dragonborn felt the first's head snap backwards, his neck broken. Miraak's body faded out of Arctan's grasp, and Arctan felt himself drift into the void, lost forever. His final thought before the dark void took him was of Lydia, and his lovely little Arenna.

25 Evening Star, 5e 001

Lydia watched with a smile as Arenna played with the dulled dragon claw that Arctan had left her with just after she was born, when he came back about two weeks prior to visit her and see Paarthurnax for advice. He had left again, telling Lydia that Miraak wouldn't leave them alone and must be dealt with, and that he would be back by the year's end... any day now, by Lydia's approximation. Even as she finished her thought, she heard a knock on the door, and her spirits soared - no one would stop and knock at Heljarchen except her husband - he was always forgetting his key, and everyone else knew better than to disturb the dragonborn's hall, should the man himself be home. Lydia glanced back to make sure that Arenna was situated and ran to answer the door, a smile on her face. Her smile fell when she saw that the person who had knocked was not her husband - it was a woman, dressed in silvery Stalhrim armor with pale blond hair. It was obvious that she was in a bad mood.

"Are you Lydia Alontius?" The woman asked, looking at Lydia with pale blue eyes. Lydia nodded. Fear was growing inside her - she dreaded what this woman was about to tell her.

"I'm sorry, Lydia, but... I've come to inform you that your husband, Arctan, died 8 days ago. He gave his life to stop Miraak at the summit of Apocrypha..." the woman couldn't finish as Lydia burst into sobbing tears.

"No! He promised... he promised that he would come back!" Of course the divines were this cruel. Lydia was now left alone to raise a child who, already, was showing evidence of being incredibly powerful. Lydia felt, though it was completely unjustified, a burning hatred for this woman who bore such bad tidings. Lydia screamed at her, slamming the door in her face. Lydia felt the tears rolling down her face, uncontrolled. She couldn't muster the strength to wipe them away. Then, she heard one of the worst sounds that a mother could ever hear. From the nursery, she heard Arenna wailing in dismay, as if she had heard the news of her father's early demise and was reacting just as Lydia was. Lydia couldn't allow Arenna to be alone through that - her own grief would have to wait. Lydia hastily wiped away her tears and rushed to the nursery, seeing Arenna lying in her cradle wailing and crying.

"WAAAH! GAAAAH! FUS RO DAH!" Lydia barely had time to process the strangely coherent sound that Arenna had made, bearing remarkable similarity to one of the powerful shouts that Arctan had used, before she was flung across the room by an invisible wave of energy. Arenna continued wailing incoherently, but Lydia looked at the child with a mix of awe and horror. The entire nursery had been thrown into disarray by that singe utterance - to a far higher degree than any of the times Arctan had used the shout. Lydia knew that the only method to dealing with her daughter now lay in the hands of the greybeards - they were the only ones who knew enough about the voice to teach Arenna the discipline she needed in order to avoid tearing her surroundings apart. Lydia rushed out of the room and hastily packed a few travel bags. She only hoped that Arenna wouldn't discover an even more destructive shout before she reached High Hrothgar.

AN: And so it begins. Feel free to leave a review, but I've got a good amount of planning behind this one; I'm not just writing as I go along. So save suggestions for details, and... just wait about an hour before you review. I'm hoping to get a second chapter released tonight.