PART TWO: Shadow of the Past

Alayne always felt like a child approaching Paarthurnax's roost. The moon was high in the sky by the time she pulled herself over the final crest, her breath coming out on fast puffs of steam. She heard the soft swoosh of Paarthurnax's tattered wings overhead, saw him shadowed in moonlight against the snow. He circled the mountain peak once, twice, before landing in his usual position on the faded Word Wall.

"Drem Yol Lok, Paarthurnax," she said respectfully.

"And to you, Dovahkiin," he replied, inclining his head slightly in her direction. His eyes glittered strangely in the moonlight. "You are troubled, mal gein. What brings you to my strunmah like a vokun tafiir, a thief in the night?"

Alayne sighed and sat down on the stone at the bottom of the Word Wall. Just for once, she'd like to be able to have a normal conversation with someone. How was your day, how are the kids, that sort of nonsense. Ever since defeating her first dragon near Whiterun, life was nothing but trouble.

She decided honesty was the best policy. "The Blades and I had a talk today," she said, the words rushing out in a jumble before she lost her nerve. "They...told me you were Alduin's right hand during his first reign. They want me to kill you."

It was her turn to be flabbergasted when Paarthurnax looked at her with kind, weary eyes. "I am not surprised. It is always wise to mistrust another dovah."

Alayne blinked up at him like a deer caught in torchlight. "You...did just hear what I said, right?" It sounded even stupider aloud than it had in her head, but she plowed on. "Shouldn't you be telling me not to kill you?"

The elder dragon shook his head slowly, sadly. "The Way of the Voice forbids nok, falsehoods." He dropped from his roost a few feet away from her and extended his wings toward her.

"Come, Dovahkiin. This night is cold, and my tale is long and bitter. I ask only that you listen."

And like a child, Alayne scooted closer, allowing the dragon she was supposed to be executing to fold tattered wings around her.

"Before you understand me, you must understand Alduin. You know his thu'um, his power. But you do not know the reason why. He is the firstborn of our father Akatosh, the greatest and wisest of the dovah. We are not like joor. We do not commit zeymah kein, warring among ourselves. We simply bow to the one with the strongest thu'um. Until recently, that was Alduin."

"Recently?" Alayne asked.

"Your thu'um bested his," Paarthunax explained patiently. Before she could press him, he continued, "But that is a conversation for another time. I speak of Alduin of old, before his fall to his own pahlok."

"The dovah ruled many lands in days long forgotten. The golt you call Atmora, homeland of your hero Ysgramor, was one of them. We were gods to the joor, chief among their pantheon, and in those days, there was peace."

Alayne frowned up at him. "I read that the dragons were brutal tyrants."

"Niid. We were the gods of a stern land, but we were not unnecessarily cruel. Until Alduin turned his gaze to Taazokaan, this land you call Tamriel.

"Here he saw chaos. Fahliil and muz fighting for scraps of land, with no order imposed upon them. He declared it the duty of the dov to serve as gods of Tamriel, and he would sit at the head of the pantheon."

"And no one challenged him?" asked Alayne incredulously.

"No dovah had ever challenged Alduin. It was vanmindoraan, akin to challenging Akatosh himself. And so, the dovah came to Tamriel...and naturally, the joor resisted.

"We slaughtered the native joor by the thousands. The willing followers of the dovah, those you know as dragon priests, were unable to fully quell a population that despised them, and after decades of stalemate, Alduin intervened personally.

"His retribution was swift and brutal. The very heavens spat fire and lightning at his command. For ten days and nights he rained devastation. And I aided him. There were those who bent the knee to the dov, out of fear and desperation. My task was to break them, to turn them into slaves who were little better than sivaas. I played my part well."

Alayne shuddered. The self-loathing in Paarthurnax's voice cut like a knife. She reached out to touch his wing, then pulled her hand away as though burned. All the warmth seemed to drain from the dragon's presence.

Finally, Paarthurnax began to speak again, breaking the silence like a physical wall. "Alduin called the most powerful of the dovah to speak with him here, on this very mountain. He claimed that in defying him, the joor had defied our father Akatosh himself. He declared himself the physical manifestation of Akatosh's will. That was when I first began to see Alduin's pahlok, the pride that gnawed at his heart.

"I did not take counsel with my brother that night. Instead, I flew and looked down upon the land. The ashen forests, the blood-red sky, the smoke-laced air. A seed of doubt crept into my soul. But I did nothing. I warred with myself as Alduin laid waste to city after city, and only when the rivers ran red with joor blood did I act.

"The rest you know, Dovahkiin. I betrayed Alduin. I taught the thu'um to mortals. And here I have lived with my shame and guilt, waiting for my brother to return."

Hundreds, thousands of questions swirled in Alayne's head, each fighting to escape. Finally, she said quietly, "The Nords say it was Kynareth who gave mortals the power of the thu'um."

"I was the teacher. Perhaps I was merely an agent of the gods. I do not claim to know their will. I am not Alduin."

Alayne got to her feet unsteadily. Paarthurnax opened his wings, letting her walk away. She retreated to a safe distance, out of the range of his thu'um.

"The Blades were right. You-" Her voice broke.

"The dovah were made to dominate. The will to power is in our blood, even yours. I know I can be trusted due to meditation and long study of the Way of the Voice, but I will not ask you to spare me."

Paarthurnax turned away, looking up at the moon. "What is better? To be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"

The words were directed to the sky, or perhaps Kynareth, not her. But Alayne remained standing there for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she willed life into her limbs, near-frozen with cold, and pulled her dagger from her belt.

The daedric weapon felt like lead in her hand. Paarthurnax didn't even turn around to face her. She looked at him in the moonlight, the weight of eons on his shoulders, the scars cresting his spine, his tattered and powerful wings.

Mehrunes' Razor fell from her fingers, landing point first in the snow.

Paarthurnax turned around at the faint sound, but there was no one there. Only light footprints to the edge of the mountain, where a near precipice concealed the barest hint of a steep and treacherous path.

"Drem voth hio, Dovahkiin," he whispered into the wind. "Aal kun aak hin sil."


Alayne nearly blundered into two bandit ambushes and a giant's encampment during the long ride to Sky Haven Temple from Ivarstead. Mercifully, Frost knew when his mistress was being an idiot, and steered them clear of danger in time. She slept restlessly if at all, and it wasn't for lacking her favorite dagger.

She had never been the religious type, beyond uttering the odd token prayer for courage or luck or whatever. But on the second evening since leaving the Throat of the World, she struck camp near Bloated Man's Grotto. Leaving Frost to guard the campsite, she made her way into the cave.

The weathered Shrine of Talos was still there, its surface covered with fallen leaves. She swept them from the shrine and knelt next to it.

Most people offered septims, flowers, or tokens to these kinds of shrines. Alayne fished around in her pack for her spare dagger and slid the edge along the very tip of her index finger. A few drops of blood, livid against the grey stone, fell to the bottom of Talos's symbol. Before she could feel too self-conscious, Alayne closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"The Greybeards called you Ysmir, Dragon of the North," she said in a hurried whisper. "You were Dragonborn too, but you were a general, conqueror, emperor. I just got caught up in this mess. I'm no Ysmir, no matter what the Greybeards say. So if you can hear me, please help me."

She opened her eyes to silence. Sighing, she got to her feet and walked back to camp.

"I don't know what I was expecting," she said to Frost. "Maybe a brilliant moment of divine inspiration. Or a new Shout, perhaps something to make all my problems evaporate." The horse looked up at her briefly before sticking his nose back into the stream. "I know you can't talk. Pretending you can just helps me think."

Frost snorted, spraying her with icy water.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't pretend to hear that!"