AN: First off, I'd like to say to everyone who has read the first chunk of this story: thanks. If you have any suggestions, criticisms, or [hopefully] praise, feel free to leave reviews.
Next, to SilverShadow138, I'd like to say good. I hate Thera, too. It's one of my favorite things about the character. I've noticed, from my time playing Skyrim or watching my brother play, there are two types of Dragonborn that people play as – the "Heroic Savior" and the... opposite. I'm guessing you guys can already tell exactly which character is inspired by which style of play. And, let me tell you, I think she's going to get worse. If you hate her now for what she's done to Lydia and Paarthurnax, I'm sure you will despise Thera once I'm done with the DLC and Faction characters.
The next... four, I want to say, chapters are going to cover the two Dragonborns and their dealings with the various factions throughout Skyrim. Sometimes both will show up in the questline, though never on the same side. In this chapter, for instance, Lucius will show up as a guard on the ill-fated ship of the Emperor at the end of the Dark Brotherhood questline, while Thera is, obviously, the Listener.
Enjoy.
The Bard
As soon as the Bard entered the inn the next morn, he saw a crowd much larger than the previous day's, which said much. He thought he even saw a member of the local noble's entourage sitting amongst them. That did not matter, however. The Bard had played for nobles before in his travels, many times telling the tale of the Jokaar. No, the Bard would not, and could not, be intimidated by mortals of that or any stature. What did give him pause was the man in the front, smiling disarmingly.
Black armor. A half-ring of gray or silver hair. Bright, shining blue eyes beneath a strong and expressive brow. The man seemed to shine with an internal, hidden power, one that was subconsciously obvious to all present; the other guests, even the noble and his entourage, gave Wulf a respectful berth.
The Bard supposed that was normal, expected even. Somehow, in all his travels, the idea that an Aedra had decided to visit Tamriel was rather tame. The Daedra took vested interest in mortals, despite the obvious lack of worth most Daedra placed on mortal lives. Why wouldn't the Aedra, the ancestors and creators of the mortals, want to see their creations once in a while? And that would go double for Talos, who likely still felt tremendous kinship for the world he had transcended. A Man who apotheosizes is still a Man, after all.
The Bard took his place at the head of the room. Every few moments, as he prepared himself, he would glance nervously in the direction of the man who could very well have been a Divine. "Th-thank you for coming," he finally said, the anxiety of telling the story in the presence of a god slightly rattling him. He took a deep breath, then continued. His confidence seemed to have been strengthened; Wulf's eyes twinkled with a smile. "The story of the two Dragonborn Empires is a long one, filled with the pains and deaths of countless. The Empires were not built on the grave of only Alduin. No, the Empires that Thera and Lucius would build were born on the ashes of other, perhaps deadlier foes as well. Today I will sing to you of how the two Dragonborns, through design or chance, sowed the seeds of their kingdoms, and a war that would nearly shatter Tamriel."
Fahiil
Thera
Life since the defeat of Alduin had been dull. Uninteresting. Pointless. I am a superior Mer-blooded mortal; such a being should not be limited in the scope of her ambition to a backwater nowhere like Skyrim.
As it was, I could do little but wait. Wait for the many enemies in my life to attack. Once I killed the first one to come after me, I'd know who to hunt down. That would be entertaining, to have purpose once again. To run my blade through the hearts of my enemies, claiming what once was theirs as my own.
Unfortunately, even superior elven-blood Dragonborn who had nearly usurped the power of a god needed sleep. I was more welcome, those days, in the holds that had once been the seats of Stormcloak power. The new High Queen had, on the urging of her adviser Legate Rikke, pardoned the former Stormcloaks with the blessing of the Imperial Military, but I doubted that I would be safely welcomed into holds such as Whiterun or Solitude. Instead, I sat in the village closest to High Hrothgar and the Seven Thousand Steps. The Vilemyr inn, and the Greybeards miles above, believed me to be a friend or ally. For the time being, the town would alert me should I be attacked. Perhaps even die as I escaped. I will be safe for a single night, I thought as I laid down my head and, instantly, fell asleep.
When I awoke, my groggy mind could already tell I had been asleep for days. My joints moved stiffly, painfully, and there was a sharp pain running through my mind. My neck was stiff, as if I had been sleeping in unusual positions for some time. My stomach gurgled, having not been filled for some time. "Ah, good to see you're awake," a voice called, drawing my attention towards the corner of the room. My vision was still shaky, but I could tell that the red and black blur sitting atop a bookcase was an assassin. A Dark Brotherhood assassin. "Recognize the colors? Good, good. Well, I suppose you have a few questions."
I gulped down the pit of fear in my stomach. They had warned me they would be coming for me. Though, why they had not killed me yet was beyond me. "Dark Brotherhood. Where am I? Why am I here?"
"Oh, well I am not going to answer where, yet," the woman said – for it was indeed a woman. The tight leather armor accentuated that much. She had the faintest hint of a Nord accent that was carefully disguised under layers of adopted Imperial, Redguard, and even Altmer tones. "But as for why you are here... well, that's easy, isn't it."
"No. You haven't killed me yet."
The assassin stared at me for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Oh, you think I'm going to kill you?" she asked between fits of laughter. "How unimaginative of me would that be? And how wasteful. No, my dear Thalmor, I'm going to offer you a job."
"Why would I agree to follow a Nord?" I asked, adopting my true self. If she knew I was Thalmor, why hide it?
"Because I don't care about your war," she said, swinging her leg that hung from the bookcase in the rundown shack. "And you were fired, anyways. You'll follow me because I am going to give you exactly what you crave."
"And what do I crave?" I asked with a thin smile. "And how would you know I was fired?"
"Blood, like any killer, is what you desire. What you need most. It makes you strong, wild. And as for how I know you were fired..? Well, it's the same reason you aren't dead," the assassin explained. "The Dark Brotherhood isn't at its strongest now, but I know enough. You were hired by the Aldmeri Council, just as we were, to kill your late employer. They usually hate us, but they couldn't risk it coming back to them. They probably hoped we would kill you, as well, or you us. Mop everything up."
"So? Why haven't you?" I asked, my hands on my blades. She was dangerous, threatening. Still, I was intrigued. I wouldn't kill her until I needed to.
The assassin grinned beneath her mask. "The kill you made. It was artful, beautifully done. Rockjoint was the official cause of death, correct? Nasty way to die, poisoned by a paralytic as strong as the one you used. And you were never found. No one, not a guard, knew that you had killed Elenwen. There was no suspect of foul play. Only assassins can see the truth behind the small cut on the dead Mer's arm, the concussion inducing blow to her head."
"So you aren't going to kill me... because you respect me?" I asked, my hands drifting from my weapons.
"Close enough," the assassin answered. Her leg stopped swinging. "But we were also hired to kill her. That is our blood you took. Blood... that must be repaid." The woman pointed to the other side of the shack, and I followed her gaze. Three people were kneeling on the ground, bound with black masks covering their heads. "There is a contract out on one of them. Find out who, and kill them."
"I merely need to kill the one with the contract?" I asked, somewhat surprised.
"Of course."
"Who is it?"
"That's not the point."
"..."
"Well, go on. Let's see how you do..."
I frowned and turned back to the captives. One was begging, nearly pissing his pants in fright. I doubted that a contract would be out on him, but anything was possible. Another was a woman screaming that she would kill me for this. Profanity made its way into her rant. Nasty. Perhaps someone wanted her dead. Finally, a Khajit was trying to bribe me with blood money. He was probably on someone's short list for death. So I had two likely candidates and a wildcard. I was really no further than I had been before hearing their words. "Make your choice. I have all the time in the world, Dragonborn."
I glanced back at the woman, whose head was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. For a moment, I thought about killing her. She had kidnapped me, thought herself above me. The nerve of Nords.
I thought better of it, however. She was, in essence, offering me the ability to freely pillage and plunder the world around me. I would have countless chances to take power, and I was willing to bet I would be hired – one day – to kill Lucius Atmoran. When that day came, I would have allies – disposable, yet skillful – with which to kill the Man. To gain allies, one must impress them. To impress an assassin...
I walked to the left of the Khajit, who was snapping at me now. Begging, upping his price. He would bargain his way out of death, if it was the last thing he did. "Hush now," I said, loud enough for all three to hear. The man pissing himself breathed a sigh of relief as he realized I was furthest from him. I breathed in deeply and the words tore from my throat. "Yol Toor Shul!"
The three captives screamed in pain as the flames overtook their bodies, burning and charring their flesh, smothering them in the smoke of their own skin. They died in horrible pain, and I smiled through every scream. It was delicious. "Well, all three. Well done. It could have been any of them really," the assassin praised as she jumped down from the bookcase. "I applaud your bloodlust. Now, how about joining my little family?"
"Nothing would make me happier, Sister," I said with a nasty grin.
Jul
Lucius
Nearly four months after the defeat of Alduin, I had been added to the Emperor's protective detail on his ship outside of Solitude. An Elf had recently tried to claim his life, instead killing his body double. Alongside that, the Emperor's cousin and her newlywed husband had died on their wedding day as they began to address the crowds in attendance. The head of Titus Mede II's security, the Penitus Oculatus – whom Delphine constantly referred to as "Blade rejects" – suspected it was the Dark Brotherhood, and had eliminated the last known cell in Tamriel. Still, though, it paid to be careful. Especially if the murderous Elf was the one I believed it to be.
"How goes the defense, Hero of Skyrim?" the Emperor asked as he peeked out of his study. "Are we making good headway to Anvil?"
I shook my head. "Not yet, Sir. We are still waiting for port authorities to light the signal. Until then, we're just floating. Try to enjoy yourself, Sir," I told the old man.
Cyrodiil. The idea of returning home gave me both chills and filled me with excitement. I knew that my parents had lived, for some time, at least, in the city of Bravil. They had been loyalists to the Empire during the city's tenure as an independent state. Unfortunately, their loyalties had gotten them killed during battles between Bravil, Leyawiin, and the "independent Thalmor raiders" that eventually captured me. And...
I hoped to travel to Bravil. I knew that the home I had once lived in was no longer there – the Empire's victories over Bravil and Leyawiin had been destructive – but it was still my family's home. I knew that, despite whatever memories I held of the land, I had to return. In Skyrim I had become aimless. The end of the Civil War and the death of Paarthurnax at that Bitch's hands had shaken me. I needed... direction.
I somberly smiled at the aging, controversial Emperor. While he was not a Dragonborn Emperor, what he stood for was important. That was why I followed him, to follow an ideal. The ideal of the Empire. Perhaps the General present in the southeastern region of Cyrodiil would enjoy the aid of a skilled warrior in testing the Dominion's defenses before the beginning of the next war, which was looking like more and more of a grim reality every day. The peace, already fragile, had been nearly reduced to rubble on more than one occasion since the end of the Skyrim Civil War. The political tumult in the Dominion's Council was worsening as time went on; more and more of the Council seemed to be followers of a more... militant and racist group of Altmer dedicated to the extermination of Man and His Empire.
The Emperor's eyes darkened. "Boy, I give you permission to leave now," he said hollowly. I frowned and shook my head. The Emperor laughed slightly. "Despite whatever it is Commander Maro told Tullius to get you on this detail, Legate, my fate is decided. One cannot stop the Dark Brotherhood, and I would not have a Dragonborn – an Emperor, perhaps – die for a man who cannot save anyone."
"I'm stronger than I look, Sir," I told the Emperor.
"Well, you look damn strong, boy," he said quietly. "But the gods have spoken, eh? The birth of a Dragonborn usually heralds the birth of an Empire. Think on that, as your predecessors did, hm?" With that, the Emperor slowly shut the door to his study and I was left alone in the dim light of the ship. I hoped to the gods he was wrong.
"I won't fail another, Sir," I promised. Sadly, I knew even then such a promise was empty.
Fahiil
Thera
Much had happened since that fateful day in the abandoned shack outside of Solitdue. The Dark Brotherhood had become... in their words a family, but in mine more of a... potential weapon. I had joined them, commingled with them. I was the only one of superior Altmer blood, but a Dunmer was present as well. An Argonian, too, but the rest were human.
Still, I had done my "duties." I claimed the lives of countless fools throughout Skyrim, acts which – just as Astrid had claimed – gave me some measure of joy. The absurd religion of the Brotherhood had nothing to do with it, I just wanted to kill Men. It was going quite well.
The part of me that wished to see the Empire fall was more than enjoying itself, as well. The Dark Brotherhood, shortly after the revelation I was their "Listener" had come upon a task of nigh limitless import. The group, of which I had become a possible leader, had been hired to exterminate the Emperor and any of his family who could claim his throne. I had, with as much joy as I could ever feel, done exactly that.
Unfortunately, my first attempt to kill the Emperor had been spoiled. Astrid, the bitch, had betrayed me. She feared I would lead the Brotherhood. She had lost her power, and she had known it. So she traded the Brotherhood's life for mine. Empire didn't follow through, however. They killed everyone, save myself, that moronic jester, the vampire child, and the sarcastic Alik'r. I killed Astrid, the traitorous bitch, with her own blade.
But the contract was not complete.
I crouched in the shadows, the Ancient Dark Brotherood armor that clung to my shoulders disguising me from view. I desperately wanted to kill everyone on the ship, but there was definite reason to give me pause. As he paced back and forth down a hallway, I knew that my contract had gone from a mild challenge to damn near impossible. Still, I couldn't pass up this opportunity. Killing Mede would kill his Empire, which would make room for mine own, one day. Delusions of grandeur, they were not. Dragonborn had a... tendency of ruling Tamriel. Who was I to end that streak?
I watched my pacing Jokaar with interest. As much as I hated to admit it, the man's power was – then – greater than my own. A true fight, at that moment, would have ended in my defeat. My death. Our truce had ended with Paarthurnax's life. Killing Lucius on the ship... I knew it was not an option. My eye drifted to a candle and I smiled. Walking right past the fool... that was an option.
I tore a shred of cloth out of my pack and wrapped it tightly around an arrow. I dipped the arrowhead into a wine bottle on a nearby table, then nocked the arrow and placed it above the candle. Sure enough, the flames erupted into being on the alcohol infused rag, and my distraction was readied. I crouched in the shadows once again and the arrow flew through the air until it collided with the hull of the ship, the wood bursting into fire. It seemed the gods were on my side, then.
"Dammit!" Lucius snapped to himself as he glanced the fire. He drew his sword, obviously prepared for an assassin. The loud man bumbled right past me and I laughed to myself as I placed the bow back over my shoulders. I drew the dagger known as the Blade of Woe from my hip and marched right into the Emperor's study. I locked the door behind me, then turned to Emperor Titus Mede II.
"Hm, and once more I prove Commander Maro the fool. I told him you cannot stop the Dark Brotherhood; never could," the old man said as he stood up from behind his desk. I was amazed by just how much he looked like his double. They could have been brothers, for all I know. Of course, all humans look at least a little like each other to me. They do not deserve the careful study of an Elf. "Come now, don't be shy. You haven't come this far to just stand there, gawking, have you?"
"Indeed I have not. You know who I am?"
The Emperor shrugged. "While many Mer disagree with the Aldmeri Council, I can tell you are not one of them. It's in how you stand, Elf," he said, disgust creeping into his voice. "The way you killed my family, my double... you relished murdering humans too much to be merely any Dark Brotherhood assassin. Thalmor."
I smiled sinisterly. "Yes. And don't worry, after you die, I'll kill the fool who put this bounty out," I told the Emperor as I approached him. To his credit, he didn't flinch or step back at all. "To take two leaders of the Empire out in a single week... how could any good Thalmor pass up such an opportunity? How could any Dragonborn?"
The Emperor's eyes widened in surprise. "So the rumors are true... You are his opposite. His obstacle," the human before me said. "His final barrier to the Empire he will craft."
Lucius Atmoran... "No. He is mine," I snapped at the Emperor. "When I conquer him, tear his soul asunder, I will craft an Empire. Infinite. Everlasting."
"I'm sure that's what Talos said," the Emperor responded coyly. "Perhaps you are right, though. All I know is what the Divines deem I should know, and that is that I must die for the next Empire to live. I suppose you are like Alduin, then. Sweeping aside the old world to craft a new one upon its ashes."
I smiled. "Thank you for the compliment, Mede. Don't worry... I'll take good care of your people when I rule. They'll hunger for nothing."
"Because they would be dead," the Emperor said. He sighed. "Get on with it, monster."
"Gladly," I said. The Blade of Woe plunged into the Emperor's chest, and the ruler of Tamriel was no more.
"The Empire is dead." I mumbled to myself with a grin. I tore the Blade of Woe from the corpse's chest and took the Dragon Amulet from around his neck. I carefully draped it across my own shoulders. "Long live the Empire."
