So, another extremely late chapter. My apologies. I hit a bit of a writer's block, as introducing Alduin and explaining some of what I'm wanting to do, is probably the most important part of the first half of the story. I also have to deal with college, living abroad this summer, getting my first job, etcetc. And this lead me to neglect my story, and sadly, my dear readers. I want to thank all of you who have managed to stay and say hello to any new passersby. I realize Skyrim is no longer a fresh force, and therefore many have left, so a special thank you to those returning. I did get support (my wonderful reviewers, favoriters, watchers, etc) and that was what drove me to continue on this story. An email every few weeks keeps this story on my mind and helped me to move forward in it. So thank you. I hope it can turn out to be what you are looking for! Plot has expanded again, I actually strategized out the entire war, I've come to terms with a decent enough ending for what I'm going for, and I've written out several future chapters. As I said, just had to get through this difficult one and accept it for what I could make it.

Deafen

Talking to God,

Hearing what he wants.

He moves in violence.

I stand in silence.

Suddenly, there was sunlight.

The dark halls wound for what seemed like miles, Krosis's wispy trail like the guiding lamp of a thieves' caravan, reflecting and intensifying the hanging torches' glow. They had taken the remainder of the path in silence, the Dragonborn showing little interest, even as awed servants snuck past or red-bannered doorways tried to call her eyes. She stepped softly, but deliberately, head raised and hips swaying. She would not be seen as a prisoner. She would accept her current station of follower, but she would make sure her form was strong and controlled.

For beneath the steady stone gaze, the heavy set of her jaw, was a race of thoughts and feelings. Though one might support or encourage the last, there was always next a contrasting view, an opposing emotion. When she felt adrenaline build, her courage rising, a plan set: kill Krosis, save the slave girl, follow back the hallways she had perfectly mapped in her mind. Then she would realize the slave girl was only one of a thousand servants, all in unknown places and of unknown worth to Alduin. The hours she had focused on each footstep would lead her only to the bathing area, the way before clouded by her previous anger and confusion and vulnerability. Attacking Krosis, though she had no interest in admitting it, would not be done as easily as taking down a rogue dragon or band of Draugr. Especially without weapons, without Marcurio, without the certainty that, even though she was free of the cursed cloth, on her breath still rode the Thu'um. This was no time for risk taking, no time for foolishness. Not in the realm of Alduin.

The darkness had kept her mind busy, her focus inward, but the rays of light at the end of the corridor brought with them comfort. Though Krosis's tattered form was silhouetted by the brightness, so too was her own body; her skin warmed, her eyes relieved. Like a caged bird set by a window to finally see the sky, the Dragonborn could feel the hope rising within her. She knew the bars snared her, the window's glass imprisoned her, but there was a place outside of this, and it was still as free and light and peaceful as it had been each time she rode through the forests of Falkreath, swam within the White River, or caught snowflakes under Paarthurnax's watchful eye.

She breathed deeply the fresh mountain air blowing south. She imagined the leaves, red from the oncoming Heartfire, dancing upon this wind. But then too could she see the ashes of Kynesgrove swirling, and so she turned the thoughts from her mind.

She shielded her eyes as she stepped into the sanctum, the stone hot under her bare feet. She could feel Krosis gliding away to float against a far wall, when she heard it.

The scrape of claws on rock, the furling of wings, the groan of a hot breath from lungs as large as her body. Her teeth clenched, her heart thrumming wildly in her chest, as that disgusting, terrifying voice slithered from hundreds of feet overhead.

"Drem yol lok, Dovahkiin. Aal hin Sil diin." She scoffed at Alduin's suggestion, feeling no more relaxed, and raised her head to find his black, scaly hide. Her hands cupped over her brow to block the far-too-bright sun as she gazed up. The floor of this sanctum was circular, the walls elegantly arched and pillared for many halls. The geometry of it perfect, even beautiful. The sharp angles and thick points reminded her of the World Eater.

There was no roof. This pattern continued skyward, like a great coliseum, balconies stretching out from the walls for several floors until those walls became nothing more than slabs of tiny stones. Statues of Dov and fallen men lined the top of the opening, and red flags flew from thick black posts. These too were of such great size and strength, that young dragons could perch atop them, faceless voyeurs of the upcoming exchange. Before her, however, cutting through all the delicately curved walls, was a flight of wide, harsh stairs, narrowing as they rose higher, the attachments of each stories' balconies instead widening as the steps were set farther and farther back into the stone. The highest most step lead to a large landing, and atop this stood Alduin.

No wonder so many men and mer were set to work, so many prisoners carrying stone and metal from other conquered areas. To set up such a construct in the few months preceding her capture was miraculous. She wondered how many had choked the harsh, soot-saturated air, crushed under the falling rock and tar and wood, withered from the eventual breakdown of their overworked, starved, sleepless bodies. She wondered how many Krosis had watched fall only to command a Draugr to beat them or drag them away. Though it should be expected, for no known reason this caused a hot resentment to burn in her chest, like she was a friend wronged.

The Dragon King stands casually, his wings kept tight to his sides, his body balanced gently upon bent legs. His neck is stretched haughtily, his orange eyes, piercing hers, are set on fire, yet these are the only hints to his power. She glares. How dare he take this harmless stance, no tension in his shape, his wings not spread to show his size? By not boasting of his strength, he mocks her weakness. And it shakes her to the core.

"Jun," she mutters bitterly, knowing that even from this distance his keen ears can take in her voice.

"Krosis, rek los mindok." Though he seems to praise her knowledge of their tongue, the egotistical chuckle that follows as he addresses the Dragon Priest, not her, makes obvious he is not proud nor even surprised.

"Hio lost nol Zeymahi gahrot Zul," he continues, and she tightens her stance as he mentions Paarthurnax. How dare he call them brothers, how dare he speak to her as though he knows the gentle savior at all. She has spent a year among the monks of Hrothgar, a year practicing her shouts from the Throat of the World, a year taking in the old dragon's wisdom and friendship. Alduin knows nothing.

She snorts and tightens the thin dress as she feels his eyes run the length of her body. She feels that prickling awareness at the back of her neck, just as she had at the bath house. Yet she knows not what it means, eliciting a cold sweat as though she has seen a ghost and a strong shiver as though she has felt the touch of a lover. Yet neither are what she feels, neither explain his looks, devoid of threat and lust. She shouts, "Rok los niid Zeymah se hini!"

"Los rok hini? Briinah?"

She shudders in disgust and begins stepping forward, Krosis's warning gaze no longer holding her obediently still. He turns to face some Draugr guards, gesturing for them to block the hall behind her, as if she has any interest in it now.

"Fron? No. Not you and I, Alduin. Nor, I think, you and any other," she gestures to those surrounding her on the floor, and her palms sweep over the dragons landing above.

He smirks, she can feel it as his wings unfurl, their black expanse darkening the entire open sky. His teeth bare, white but the edges stained with blood. He steps forward too, down 2 rows, his broad tail swinging behind him. He senses the challenge from her, and begins the descent to meet it.

"I was enjoying our exchange, my dear Dragonborn. But how could I expect a worthless mortal to maintain the tongue of a race so higher and greater than you? Come, I shall use your clumsy, harsh language, if only for your benefit."

The taunting is there again, lacing what was once such an empty, hateful tone.

She waits at the foot of the stairs, hands at her hips, wishing her mace and dagger were slung there, if for nothing else but to stroke the sharp edges and restore some stability in her mind. As the distance closed, the tension strengthed, that strange sensation sending chills over her skin, but she kept her eyes locked on Alduin's. He has slowed his descent, flexing his claws over the rough stone, grinding into it as though he were scratching at a soft canvas. He seems unaware of the force between them, but the glitter in his eyes makes her wonder if he can feel it, if he could even understand it. It is different from Helgen. Then there was fear and hatred and recognition of her greatest foe, but also confusion of her sparing savior. Now there is something else, something deeper and more foreign, but also unexplainable. It is neither bad nor good. It simply is.

"My thanks. Now, can you tell why exactly I am here? Alive, no doubt. You seem to have sincere difficulty with killing me. Are you really so afraid to lose your foe, to lose that attention of facing the great Dragonborn, or are you actually just incapable of doing a job right?"

"You could not hope to understand the reasons I have spared you, little one," his tongue flickers to trace the rough skin of his maw, "But you know that I have done it with a purpose. You are now, as you have always been, at my mercy. You are blessed to have it granted to you."

She smiles, so sweet and fake that not even an expressionless beast such as he could misinterpret it. And the Draugr may not notice, the Dov audience may not catch it, even Krosis may not see it. But she can see the dark blue around his pupils grow, the bright contrast of fire and ice reminiscent of a blazing, apocalyptic comet in the moonless sky. She will get a rise of him yet.

"You are so kind to me, Alduin. Surely, though, the most fearsome kitty cat around."

"Your pathetic joking undoes you, Dragonborn. Such is unfit for a true warrior, and even worse that your humor brings no warm response. Perhaps if you had learned better the sword than the word, you would not be in this predicament. But, fear not, you do amuse me. The way your body now trembles is enticing. A good show before my meal."

She straightens her spine and balls her fists, stopping the small tremors of her muscles. Alduin knows she does not shake in fear or immature anger, but rather from this field between them, and her desire to slash through it and into his dripping heart.

"Apologies. You have brought me here for a reason, World Earter," she responds coolly, no more need for petty jokes or screaming shows of strength. "I would like that you reveal it."

"What else am I to do with a pet?" The last word booms throughout the sanctum, echoing back with as much malice and mocking as when it first left his despicable jaw.

She steps further, the stairs so tall she must bend and balance on her bent knee just to lift herself up. Krosis appears beside her, floating up to the dragon's side in mere seconds. She is unamused.

"Stay down, Dragonborn," Krosis warns, but she takes the next step.

"I am no one's pet. You cannot leash me!" She defies, trudging up to a stair only a few yards from the jagged, thorned head of Alduin. "I am here only because you sent a hundred undead to gather me, alone and unconscious, as you fled to here. Even so, without the Priest's subduing magics, you would not have caught me so easily. Even with them, you could not have taken me, still broken from our battle as you were tended to and spoiled, without all one hundred warriors, and certainly could not have kept me without sending reinforcements when I cut your ranks down to forty. You may make yourself unthreatened, even uninterested, but you will take me as seriously in speech as you have taken me in battle. If you do not, you only make light of yourself."

Alduin's wings come forward, resting on the stone beside her body. She can remember him crumbling the tower of Helgen, slicing apart the sky of Sovngarde; she can feel the warmth of the blood rushing beneath his hide as his scales brushes over her bare arm. But though the threat is there, that he can imprison her with only his body, it is much subdued. She feels no horror facing him now. As she faced the true, unavoidable end of her life, she felt the terror, the rage, the self-resentment, the heartbreak. She was a failure. But she has been given a second chance, and such a mistake gives her the confidence to look into his eyes and know they are, at the very core, growing closer and closer to equal. She can still prevail.

His head tilts, the thorny spines along his neck casting long, twisting shadows like the shaky, naked tree limbs that had become monsters on the walls of her childhood cottage, trying to strangle and rip apart that terrified little Cyrodiillian girl. Even in a land apart, in an age apart, under a new name, she cannot escape her demons.

Krosis's staff thuds heavily against the ground, calling her attention.

"I do not question your strength, your capabilities, your talents. But you are a mere mortal, only decades old, with inexperience and a lack of understanding you cannot even comprehend as missing. You are without wisdom, and you are defeated."

The coolness, the steadiness, fills his voice once more. It is empty and emotionless. It is draconic. She releases a deep breath, having been unaware of ever holding it in. The field between them falls, the tension dies, the electricity leaves her body a final time. A blush falls over her skin and melts away. She crosses her arms beneath her breasts to hide the forming goose-bumps. Her very soul is stilling when she had not known it was rushing within her.

"You suffer the same fate, Alduin." She sees Krosis clutch the golden dragon head. She is calmly disobeying, refusing to refer to this monster as anything but an equal. But Alduin pays no heed, unaffected by such small rebellions. "For you can never grasp mortality. Dragonrend brings you to your knees."

He retracts his great wings, turning to return to the stair's landing. His back faces her, displaying his disinterest. And she knows she can take no advantage of it, though she flexes her fingers, itching to attack him before his own demented audience. She cannot call forth the very Shout she refers to, and as a dryness clutches her throat, she is not sure she will again.

He exhales through his snout, the sound reminiscent of the tsking of a mother. "It is no loss." He turns again to face her, lowering until he is lying on his belly. Krosis stands apart, gives his master room to spread his wings. They fold gently at his side, and she gets the strange desire to pet the leathery tapestry, to run it between her finger and thumb and watch as the sun tries to shine through the darkness. "Why should I wish to understand such imperfection? Do you hope, Dovahkiin, to perceive the thoughts of a fly, even as you allow it to spend the last of its days?"

She scoffs, growing more irritated with the haughty lizard. "I am no pest, Alduin. I am not small nor weak nor foolish nor simple. I do not live on your mercy," she replies with certainty, leaning on one leg with eyebrows raised.

"But you live from it, Briinah," he yawns, but she knows from his fierce eyes that he is not doing so from a want to rest. "I have given you this second chance to alert your pathetic world," he sways his massive head from side to side, referencing the horizon, "that it has none. You are here to prove the battle is over, the prophecy fulfilled, the fate decided." A mirth again enters the thrum of his throat. It is malevolent. "Your severed head would serve as well, would it not make you a martyr, a hero to be sung of, when you deserve no such praise."

She is sick of defending her own worth, realizing that he may act as though she is of little consequence, but by bothering to 'spare' her, he is in fact showing how important she is. Instead, she focuses on him. She cannot rise through the ranks in his eyes, but she can certainly knock him down them. "Yet, Bane of Kings, you do not follow through. You wait. You toy. You turn your back to Akatosh, forsake the very hand that feeds you, that gave you breath? To amuse yourself as a lazy, false king. You speak of my arrogance, but it is yours that will undo you."

"And have you followed your destiny? You have faced me, fought me, and fallen to me. Akatosh has given me a new path, has rewarded my success and provided me the rights of First Born."

"I am alive. It is not complete. Perhaps you are merely unable—" but he rises again, falling onto his haunches, wings open and catching the sensual brush of the wind.

"You are mine." Draugr shuffle in the background, uncomfortable from the intensity of his loud voice. A few of the Dov spread their wings and flee, while others merely lean forward to catch more of their conversation.

She clutches her fists and begins to ascend the stairs with haste. Her heels dig into the ground in anger and this propels each of her steps, lifting her over the rough stone. The scraps of her feet and knees tear as they collide with the rock, but the light burn does not make her falter. She has taken much worse. She flexes her wrist and the thick, white scar crinkles. "I am no one's," she seethes, growing closer. "You may bind and beat and banish me. You may break my body, you may even destroy my mind. But you cannot touch my soul, a soul the same as yours, granted only to destroy you, the son who has turned upon his father." She reaches the spacious landing and her hair flies wildly as the dragon beats his wings above her. His head tilts back, and she can see him as he was in Sovngarde, neck bent to swallow the corpses of her men. She wants to leap and force a dagger through his beating heart, but his gaze traps hers and she can only shake her head in pity. "You have not forsaken him, Alduin. He has forsaken you."

His wings carry him into the sky, hovering over her small frame. She is completely clad in shadow. "And yet he has given you to me. Perhaps your grand creation is only to be mine. Your purpose only to serve me. Your worth as I deem it. You see, as mine, you prove not only that I cannot be conquered, but that I am the ruler, the king, the harbinger of a doom your fellow mortals quake at. You show that I will have my destiny, but I will make it my own. This world I burn, it shall be my world. This enemy I trample, she shall be my enemy. All shall be made and destroyed in my image." Her teeth grate at his audacity, but she says nothing in response. She turns to walk back down the stairs, the conversation clearly over. But Krosis's staff beats hard against her chest, knocking the wind from her lungs, and holds her still at the mouth of the stairs. She grasps the twisted head of it in her hands, ready to thrust it away, but she feels that sensation again, the tingling of her flesh, the wildness of her soul, as the Dragon Priest glares from behind his thick mask. It is so much stronger, so intense, that she shakes. She knows it is not Krosis's doing. Although he is so distant, she feels Alduin touching her. It is deep and intimate and revolting.

"I will not devour an imperfect world. Krosis, take her away. You would be wise to follow his every whim, Kulaas. He is your king." She hears the heavy flapping of the World Eater's flight. The staff falls from against her ribs, and air rushes into her chest. The… familiarity immediately fades, and she has the strong urge to return to the baths.

Even so, with back turned and chin raised, the Dragonborn taunts, "Of course, Jun."

The shadow falls over her again, choking out all light. Even the gold of the Dragon Priest's staff offers no reflection. She watches as Alduin instead flies westward, effortlessly crossing the expanse she knows will take hours of winding tunnels to navigate. She does not see as his foul maw opens, nor does she know how the blue slit of his eyes cut into the brilliant red-orange, but she breathes his final words on the wind.

They deafen her.

"I am your God."

Edit: Thanks to Delgodess I realized I didn't put the translations in! I'm going to start working the the Dragon Language pretty extensively, so I can no longer rely on Alduin's or Paarthurnax's in-game quotes.

Since I did them myself, I probably did them incorrectly, so feel free to check here. I capitalize nouns. Words ending in 'i' are turned possessive, as in 'My _'. Plural words will repeat the last letter of their singular form, and then tack on an 'e' as well. These are just little grammar rules in case they help you decipher phrases without the use of my footnotes here. As you can see with the second translation, I take a lot of liberty here! :)

Drem Yol Lok. - A greeting.

Aal hin Sil diin. – May your Soul freeze. (as in 'Calm down.')

Jun. – King.

Krosis, Rek los mindok. – She is knowable.

Hio lost nol Zeymahi gahrot Zul. – You have from my Brother stolen Voice. (You have learned to speak the language from my brother.)

Rok los niid Zeymah se hini! – He is no Brother of yours!

Los rek hini? Briinah? – Is he yours? Sister?

Fron? – Kin?

Kulaas. - Princess