The Dragon's voice was low, baritone, rumbling, and brimming with authority as it did boom it's question unto her. It was a threatening thing - shockingly quiet yet silencing all other noises. It's sole eye gleamed upon her a crimson light.
Ruth couldn't even hear the sounds of her own footsteps. She found herself taken aback; her face betwixt the violet-emotion. She pondered much and more in such little a time. She felt the stabbing of doubt; the clawing of interest; the joy of recognition.
"You... Want... Me?" The Dragon leered upon her with it's gleaming Hell-eye. The other portion of it's head, the one where it's other eye should reside, lied a smoking hole. She only now spied it, "Y-you... You want... Me t-to... Worship you?" Saying it aloud sounded most... Passing strange. She felt her heart jolt as the titan-shape did lower closer - it's jaws barring.
"W-wha-what ar-are yo—" It's snout pushed against her. Well, less a push and more of a nudge, but the effort sent her stumbling unto her rear. It's beak-like jaw now edged unto her stomach; cloth doing little to stop the warm, night-black, razor-sharp scales from marking her stomach with a thin yet jagged cut that seared flesh, "N-no! S-ser Dragon! T-tha—"
"Speak strong and true, joor! Are thee willing to pledge thee's soul unto thy? Alduin demands answer...!" Her entire body rumbled with each word it whispered. She could feel it reverberating into her very bones. She struggled to breathe with it's weight upon her belland chest, "Art thee foe? Or art thou follower? Chose." The Dragon's voice did snarl like crackling fire. It's eye cast fire-red light unto her; it's shape like a silhouette admist ruin as flame-smoke darkened Heaven above it. Her hand clutched her medallion tightly.
"I-I... I... Y-your touch burns! I-I..." She could tell the Dragon was being careful with it's movements as the tip of it"s snout pressed againsr her. It was putting only the slightest pressure upon her - just enough to restrict her autonomy. Any more force and... She'd be a memory. She shuddered at that thought, "I-I... C-can I have ti-time too c-c-consider, ser Dragon? Need I ch-chose this i-instant?"
"Yes. Thou do, indeed," It was careful with it's voice, she spied, as it's maw rose above, "Thee needth answer! Zu'u, Alduin, tires of waiting." Even while whispering so very lowly did it's voice demand all focus and fixation. She dared not stray from it's eye as it freed her too move.
"W... W-what you ask of m-me is... I-is..." She trailed off. This creature... This star-beast offered her all she ever wanted. The respect of the people, home, and a purpose too live beyond mere healing... And so much more. It offered her endless power, ultimate control, her own place by it's side... Her mind was overcome. Yes, it hurt her, but... It had also been kind too her. So few were even willing to speak with a Moonborn, let alone be kind to them. She could scarcely believe she was face to face with a real Dragon, yet... One who offered her everything she ever wanted and more? It... "Of what must I p-pay? All comes at a cost." Was too good to be true.
"Soviis? Zu'u lorfonaar... Hin mahfaeraak midrot fen dreh. Thee's unquestioning servitude shalt suffice," At that did the Dragon shift once more so as to more directly peer upon her. Her silver eyes and it's Hell-eye did lock, "Why dou'st thou deliberate? Hath thou chosen the path of thy foe?" It's great shadow loomed over her as it hissed. Ruth squeaked when she heard the glass beneath her rattling from the shifting of it's wing. Once more did it's jaws levey unto Ruth's form. Her dainty hands quickly pushed against it's balm-drenched snout as it pushed ever so carefully against her chest. She groaned in protest.
"I... I... I-I am no foe! P-please, ser Dragon, give me space! I can scarcely breathe! It hurts!" It slowly hissed as it's head slightly - slightly - shifted back. She could barely feel a difference in both force and heag, "I-I... I accept! I will become your apostle! B-but... But I have a... A r-request too make of you, ser Dragon!"
"Vahzah? Hi laan do zey truk nalkun. Tarvokus joor. What dou'st thee demand from thee's new God?" It's snout rose unto ashen smoke; black against a much darker color. She clould see only it's smoldering, hateful, eye in the smoke-dark, "Thy thought thou desired no boon. Has't thou reconsidered thee's offering?" It's voice was prideful now... And... Alone. It sounded so very lonely. Ruth... If Ruth wasn't certain before then she was now. This creature, this Dragon, this... God, it... It was alone - and likely for a very long time. She knew that feeling well... She felt it oft' herself. The girl slowly rose to her feet upon trembling legs. She held the smoking gash along her belly... It was bleeding yet it was no serious wound. Only a little... 'Little' cut. She's suffered far worse.
"Nay! No boon... Simply a request," It's Hell-eye did widen into a snow-pupil. She saw so much rage inside, yet... Yet it had chosen to spare her. To speak wise and kind words unto her. She... She had been pondering something for a time now, "I... I-I would ask thee only for a token," She attempted to mimic it's speech as she did bow politely, "I... I would ask only that thou... That thou would bequeath... Thy? Or is it thee...? Uhmm... T-thy friendship." Her gaze lowered as she saw her reflection in glass-earth. She did feel nervous, she noted, yet her features did not reflect so. That pleased her.
"Fahdonmaar voth Zu'u? Hi yah fahdonmaar voth Zu'u, Alduin? Fos hinzaal zaak. Thy... Can bestow thee's boon, however foolhardy it is," At that Ruth frowned, "Zu'u, Alduin, dou'st have thee's desire." She once more bowed. As she rose the Dragon, too, raised it's snout to curve away so it's ruby-eye could see her one-on-one. She was acast in a hellish red glow with the snow-slit peering upon her. She felt immense heat radiating unto her; warming her cool skin.
"I... T-thank you, ser Dragon. I-I... Wh... U-uhhmm..." She found herself unable to speak before the great flaming eye of the titan-shape. It blinked suddenly; darkness shrouding the world.
"Kneel," The eye gleamed so blindingly bright that Ruth fell upon her knees - from instinct, or fear, or weakness, or spell she knew not. The girl found it suddenly quite difficult to concentrate, "Thou shalt forever serve thy's will. Thou shalt be thy's... Prophet. Thee will carry thy's word and bring before thy a great banquet; the souls of sinners, heretics, and false-kings. Thou shalt forever be thy's stalwart Priest - thee's mind and flesh and soul richly rewarded for thee's faith."
At once did the flame of the Dragon's eye darken. The red shifted into a pale blue as it began to chill the world around her. Ruth saw frost beginning to coat the glass-earth as. Her breath became mist in the repidly cooling air; fires hissing too death. She shuddered and held herself as her teeth began too chatter.
"Nol daar sul amativ hi los nid lingrahiik mon do Jul! Hi los kiir do Dovah; Alduin's funrahiik!" It's voice rumbled the cooling earth like betwixt thunder and stone, "Thou shalt forever be thy's Mortal Vestiage. Pray unto thy... Worship ye's God." It's voice seeped with utter pride betwixt hubris. Ruth felt her arms trembling as she did clasp her hands before her chest. She averted her gaze unto the Heavens - her people's custom when communing with the Divine. She did briefly ponder if she should instead look upon the Dragon during prayer... She decided against it. She quickly began to recite a rather standardized prayer that she oft' heard during the village ceremonies.
"I... I-I... I h-hereby... V-vo-vow too... T-too..." She struggled to find the words within her thundering heart, "M-my... My soul... T-too yo-your... W-wize L-Light... wait, no, that one doesn't work!" She realized her typical prayer simply wasn't apt for this situation. This creature was not of the Light or Dark... But... It was of fire... "I... I-I... Pledge m-myself... T-too.. Your... Y-your... Flames! Flames and... And ice..." She felt uncertainty in her words as the azure light of the Hell-eye cast her into freezing shadow, "I-I... I will... S-serve thee in t-thee's... Thy? I-in... T-thy's... Righteous commands." She felt uncertain in her own words. Her prayer felt... Inadequate.
"Rrrssssnnnsss... T'is a prayer, if a queer one..." The ruby-eye did return to it's natrual color as the head of the beast once more perched on high, "I accept thee's reverence. Arise... Reborn thou art. Look upon this earth once more through purer eyes; thee's veil removed." And so she did. Ruth arose upon quaking knees in immense uncertainty. She did look left... Right... Before settling on the ruby-eye. Her face was one of confusion.
"S-ser Dragon, Wh... W... Wh... What am I... S-suppose too... S-see?" She felt her heart stricken with fear. The Dragon... No, her... Her new God did look upon her. It's eye, ever wrothful, once more narrowed. It... He? She wasn't cerain... It did not look like a he, but it had said it possessed brothers, so... She wasn't certain. Ruth's Dragon God did look upon her with a dreadful hiss that shook her very bones.
"Art thou a fool?" She leveyed her gaze unto frostbitten glass, her cheeks reddening, "Thy words be of time-honored fancy! Not literal reality... Mey joor! Hinzaal joor... Lost hi ni dii kiibokin wey Zu'u fund naak hi! Thee art... Ruth, was it?" She found herself startled as it uttered her name. She... She did not know how that made her feel yet. Her embarrassment towards the insult and her fear made it difficult to speak properly.
"Y... Y-ye-yes, ser D-D-Dra-Dragon... M-my..." She coughed to clear her dry throat, "My apologies. I-I... meant no offense." She would've liked her new God to be kinder, but... She dashed away the thought. It would not do well too think ill of her new companion! Especially one so massive it could crush her with utmost ease.
"Ruth... Thee's trespass shalt be forgiven. Thou art young and of a fool race... By thee ilk's standard, thou art most wise for thee's youth," She did smile at that. As glowing a proclamation as ever, no? "But take heed. Suffer the daft I will not. If thou art too be thy Prophet than thou must take swiftly too thy words. Rrrrrsssssnnnn... Dou'st thou seek thy knowledge? Of thou's questions I alone hold all the answers." The girl did nod slowly as she absorbed the words into her mind. She never thought of herself as a fool, yet... Wasn't everyone a fool before a God? The Gods know all things and therefore were never wrong.
"I... I would ask thee but a simple question, ser Dragon," Ruth's God did lower it's... No, his head to rest atop a great boulder of glass. She was certain that 'it' was a 'he' now. And he peered unto her from up high, "I would... I want to know... What do you want? What is your desire, ser Dragon?"
At that did the ruby-eye dull from firery red into a more rustic scarlet. His snow-slit did widen into a pupil as his gaze slightly fell. Ruth could see hesitation in his Hell-eye. She felt sadness overtake her at the sight of his wounds...
"Domination... Thy seekth to rule the world once more. T'was the case with ages past, t'is to be so again. Does this deter you, Pyt?" At that Ruth's ebony brows furrowed. She opened her lips to speak yet never had the chance, "Pyt... Rose. In thy's Tongue thou's name - Ruth - is Pyt." At that she did nod her head. Pyt... Strange word, yet... She found herself liking it. It was endearing... But then a new thought entered her mind.
"Tongue... What is your mother tongue, then?" The Dragon's eye did slowly close as he hissed longingly. She could feel the wind ushered from it's snout blowing against her, "Ser Dragon?" Ruth could feel her fear fading away as the Hell-eye's malice, too, faded. Within the ruby-eye did she spy a hint of the amber-emotion.
"It is... Dovah... Speech. Dragon Tongue. Mortals oft' dubbed my Tongue the 'Thu'um'. It is the oldest of all languages - the wellspring from which all Mortal tongues were born. It is the language of Power," Ruth found herself enraptured by the Dragon's words. Her eyes were wide and full of awe, "It does not have a name, in truth. Not in it's own Tongue it does not. Vir hi yiir voknau zey. Zok... Ferviit. Zu'u fir hin tolaan wah mindos. It cannot be learned without great sacrifice and even greater will... Few would share your intrigue in Zu'u, Alduin's Tongue. Your curiosity is... Admirable, Pyt." The young woman found herself blushing at the compliment. She did that often around the Dragon, she realized. She nary received any compliments... Was it not natural for her to bask in the praise? She held her medallion once more. She was smiling, she realized.
"Thank you, ser... Ser Dragon. I find your words most interesting... I have always been enamored with tongues of all variety. I... I... Thank you for your wise words... I know not what to say." She found her eyes gazing over his night-black form. His legs - assuming he had any - were hidden beneath his great body. A single wing did extend outward. The wing alone was so massive that if turned sky-bound then it would surely darken Heaven. She found herself afraid imagining the levels of destruction that single wing could summon if provoked...
"Say nought at all then. Thee may dou'st as thee pleases, Pyt, so long as thee follows thy will. Rrrrrssssssnnnnn... Zu'u, Alduin, tires of conversation. Thy shall... Slumber once more." And so Ruth's new God huffed as he faded into a deep, deep sleep in but a moment. She stood in the shadow of the Dragon; mind abound with many, many, many thoughts. One of which was, 'How can he fall asleep so fast?' That thought would quicky be forgotten, however, as a much more pressing matter made itself clear.
She... Had... Met a God. In the woods. She worships it... Him now. The realization of her own actions only now truly settled with her. She... Abandoned her Twin Gods in exchange for a new one. A more... Aggressive God. One who claimed too be stronger than they, yet... Fell from Heaven regardless.
"I... Did I make the right choice?" She whispered to herself as she approached the titan-shape. Glass and frost crackled beneath her boots. She was... Uncertain now. This God promised her everything and yet... Yet she said no to it all. She instead requested companionship... From a Dragon. And he agreed. Did that make her... Special in some way? She liked to think it did.
Her throat felt parched as she neared the Dragon. It's movements left it's chest visbile. She could see glowing ichor flowing from a gaping hole... She felt pity. How much pain was he experiencing now? She felt anger surging through her veins.
It was wrong. Evil, even! Too see a God... Bleed was... A sin. The worst of sins. She felt anger yet she had no outlet to vent it. So she did what she always did when angered; she ignored her own feelings. She let the rage settle deep inside... Caging it, trapping it, ensnaring it.
Ruth knew this wouldn't last forever. She knew, sooner or later, the anger would explode out of her in a uncontrollable fashion. Yet... What else could she do? She was no fighter. She was no hunter. She was no sorcerer. She was but a healer... And anger represented everything she wasn't. She had too cage it... Too forget it.
She knew her duties. Too heal this broken creature... This fallen Dragon. As she prepared the necessary ingredients her mind did wonder. The God said he had thousands of Brothers. There were more then three Brothers, let alone two... But... Only hundreds of Gods? The math befuddled her. Her hands did work swiftly as she applied smooth balms unto torn muscle. She spied the beast had plenty muscle yet... No tendons. No veins. No flesh. It was as if the God was only scale and muscle... A queer notion, if ever one was.
She avoided the flowing plasmas as they tinged glass orange. She held aloft a nettle yet she stopped. She chuckled. She put it back in her small satchel as she pondered too what use it could possibly be.
Long was her work and little it's fruits. So vast the Dragon, and so small his... 'Prophet' that no amount of effort would amount to nought more than poultry. Not in a single day's time, that is. The Dragon... The God's wounds were betwixt great and small. Some looked as if by blade, others by... She wasn't certain. Like... Like a great force ruptured through him...
Her mind wondered further as balms cooled muscle. She began the process of kneading the Dragon's exposed musculature with herbs and brewery. She thought about her God's... Title for her. 'Prophet'... She didn't feel like a prophet. Prophets were suppose to see into the future... Or... Read the stars! Something like that.
Prophets were wise, intelligent beyond their years, and noble. Ruth was none of these things. She wasn't a prophet... Not truly.
She pondered the nature of the Dragon's words. The language he spoke was certainly... Interesting. A very unique tongue. A very... Unusual one, too. She pondered the posibility of learning it one day. It would be a fun challenge, Ruth surmised as she smoothed over deep gashes and enlarged cuts, if a time-consuming one. Maybe he would even teach her?
As she set about snipping muscles too damaged to heal she did ponder the nature of... Her 'status.' She felt an immense sense of excitement, yes, but it was tempered by caution. She has much too do now... Her new God, she sensed, would not be a kind one or forgiving one. Maybe... Maybe that's what she needs? A strict Divine underwhich she can strive to better herself... She did feel uncertain about it's... 'Request' however.
Heretics, sinners, and blasphemers are wicked, but... Too die? Do they deserve to die? Ruth was no briggian or vegabond. She did despise unnecessary pain in any of it's guises. If... If the Dragon devours all the wicked ones, then... Would the world be a better place? Or would the world be worse off for it? All those who commit sin can still he reedemed.
The girl had been raised to believe none were beyond salvation. She knew well how cruel Men could be, yet... Even the blackest of hearts still held within them light. There was no such thing as pure evil... It was fantasy meant to scare children. Ruth knew it to be so... Or at least she believed it so.
'Surely,' she justified to herself, 'The Dragon will have mercy?' All Gods are merciful, no? If not than all sinners would be smoten upon their birth. She shivered as lapping winds did darken. She glanced upwards only too see the pale moon in all her beauty. Night had fallen... And with it freezing cold.
Dainty fingers shook in the icy winds. Her cloak flowed as her body trembled. She knew that winter's first kiss was soon to fall. The frost beckoned by the Dragon's Hell-eye when it changed color did not help, either.
"Sssshhhppppssss..." She hissed through chattering teeth, "C-c-cooold!" Ruth's flesh felt like glass; fragile and weak. She could see her breath as a fine mist in the night air. She turned towards the expansive crater... The fires had all but died save a few infant-flames and their ember-children.
She knew the dangers of the cold. It was the frost which killed her brother, after all... She never feared the cold yet she knew to respect it. All of nature was worthy of respect. The girl hugged herself as a fridged breeze did send a shiver up her spine. Her lips trembled.
Ruth pulled her cloak tightly about her skin. She shivered. She watched the moon up above... The moon which shared the silver of her fell eyes. She oft' like to think of the moon as a mother... Of what she never quite determined, however.
Ruth opened her satchel to remove a small stone and a thin stick. It was exceedingly simple, yes, but it could birth a fire nonetheless. Silver eyes scanned her enviroment for any form of kindling...
"Damn!" Nought met her eyes. The available trees were all eaten by flame already. The grass had become glass. But... Her eyes saddened as she did remove her boots. Leather can still burn... It won't smell nice, but it can burn.
"Oh! C-cold..." Bare feet did touch glass. She hated the feeling of frost against her bare flesh yet she had no choice. She placed the boots down as she crouched. She was near her new God yet far enough away not too feel his furnace-heart's warmth. She set about quickly in igniting a flame admist leather.
"Tssska..."
"Tssska..."
"Tssska..."
"C-come on... Just a spark!" Her efforts bore no fruit. The stick wiggled yet refused to burn as the stone marred it, "Come on!" She tried again and again and again. Shakey hands did brush stone over wood over and over to no avail. She could feel her anger rising.
"J... Just light!" She moved faster. She applied more force unto her movements only for no reward. Her face betwixt anger as she grit her teeth. Her grip tightened, "Burn! Burn, damn you!"
"Tssssk!"
"Tssssk!"
"Tssssk!"
Still the stick did resist her efforts. Ruth did bite her lip hard as she growled. She pulled back her fist - stone falling away - and let lose a punch towards her wooden foe.
"Brrshk!"
"Ahh... Damn you!" The pitiful barken object snapped in twine. Anger-fueled did young Ruth throw it into the darkness of night. In her rage she felt nought as she stomped her foot admist glassen shards, "A thousand curses upon you!"
The girl did stumble back as her anger was quickly consumed by fright. How would she survive the night now? Her only tools for fire-birthing were gone now... She had doomed herself. She... She was stranded alone in the dark of night. Freezing. What could...
"Huh!" Her back did press against warm scales. Her cloak prevented her skin from being burned like her hand had earlier. She turned to face her God as realization dawned. He... Was... Warm. Very warm. His body exuded heat... Enough to ward off the night's cool embrace, "S... Ser Dragon?"
"..."
Silence greeted her. The beast slumbered - sometimes hissing in his sleep. She bite her lip as silver eyes were clouded with uncertainty. T'was a risk, yes, but... What other option did she have?
"I... Ser Dragon, may... May I rest alongside you?" She knew he wouldn't answer yet she did not feel right without first asking. She took a step forward. She stopped, her leg rising, and a wheezing gasp escaped her lips, "Ahh! D-damn!"
She spied her bare foot. Glass had embedded into it. She hopped on one leg only to tumble; arms thrashing in the air. Her cloak muffled her drop unto glassen earth. She groaned through gritting teeth. Her head felt light.
"Hhhuuuhh... O-ow..." She crawled towards the God's resting neck. When near enough she did sit and rest her back against night-black scales. She cradled her bleeding foot, "G-Gods... God damn it!" She corrected her tongue. She worships one God now, not two...
Slowly did thin fingers caress torn skin. Blood spilt onto glass. It stung, yes, but... The pain cleared her mind. Made it easier to understand. Too think clearly.
Maybe... He was testing her? Maybe... Maybe the Dragon had been testing her since he first spoke. She pondered then... Did she succeed his test? Or fail it.
"Arrghh...!" She growled as she pulled a shard of glass free. The bloodstained reflective earth stared at her. She tossed it aside and into the darkness. She repeated this until she cleaned her foot of all glass. All glass she could spy, that is. She unsheathed her dagger once her task was complete, "S-sorry..."
Ruth cut free a sampling of her ebony cloak. She set to work tying it tightly about her wounds; foot covered in quickly reddening cloth. She hissed as she laid against warm scales. The cold was nary a concern now. She let her head rest against a particularly smooth ridge. She breathed deeply as she felt pain and exhaustion lul her into a deep sleep. She frowned.
Ruth laid against the Dragon as the cool winds blew against her. Her cloak did prevent the God's scales from burning her, and they cushioned his scales against her skin and hair. Ruth smiled at that... Her God was already aiding her, in a way. He was keeping her warm during such a cold night.
"I... Hope... You'll be..." She trailed off as sleep stole away her mind. Soft features evened out betwixt pale moonlight. She would dream much and more that night... Little of her dreams would be pleasant. They rarely were.
God and Prophet alike slept side by side. One of deep thought, the other of exhaustion and pain. In her sleep she did huddle closer to the titan-shape; her cloak pulled tightly around young Ruth. They slept...
One of peace, one of malice. One Mortal, one God - both now irreversibly connected for all time.
The Dragon did begin to awake...
Within Tyrant Wyrm's slumber did the Bane of Kings witness elder memories; betwixting rage and betrayal. He remembered smoldering Heavens, drowned earth, and fallen Dragons.
The Mortals did sunder Heaven of it's Drake children. Moutains did brew great firestorms that clouded the skies with ash. Great whirlpools did devour entire nations into the Deep Ones realm of watery death.
T'was Kyne... Kyne and Paarthurnax whom betrayed the Black Dread's rule and empire by handing over the Words of Power to ancient men and women. They... No, he chose the Mortals over his own God-King; traitor-heart was wicked Paarthurnax. So Alduin did cast him from the Heavens and unto drowning earth.
Paarthurnax was strong, wise, and of the mightiest of the Drakes. He was once the Dread Tyrant's second-in-command over all the world. Once was the traitor-Drake a cruel overlord - his wroth slow and agonizing. Once did his own cruelty match only the World Eater's sheer malice. Yet the Drake's traitor-heart did soften. He changed... Became weak.
Alduin seethed at that. He seethed at the weakness his brother invited into his own heart. Paarthurnax felt... Mercy for the rebels. He felt that Alduin was too... Destructive too rule. He felt that the Black Wings could only worsen the earth, not better it.
It was Kyne who deceived Alduin's most beloved brother. And so it would be Kyne, not Aka, who would suffer first come the End Times. When the Black Dread grows mighty again than he will ensure all nature burns - such the penance of the foolhardy Goddess. Alduin thought upon the moment his brother did reveal his betrayal... It was bloody.
The battle of brothers raged within the storms of Heaven's Hallow. Each beat of their wings was thunder, each roar an earthquake, and every Shout was akin to apocalypse for young Mankind.
Yet lo! The Black Wyrm did smote his lowly brother unto ruination. Paarthurnax, wounded and weary, fell to the earth admist ash and blood with torn wings. It was only the grace of mercy that led the Dread Tyrant to spare his defeated Drake-servant amongst flame and thunder.
Mercy... Alduin realized what his weakness was shortly after that battle. Mercy was weak. Redemption was weak. Traitors will never change...
Those whose loyalty shifts so easily are not worthy of serving the Twilight God. The traitor-Drake chose Humanity as his new God over his own brother. Weak... Paarthurnax was weak. He will die a traitor's death.
All weakness must be purged so that strength may mend this broken world... Weakness is evil. Strength is good. Alduin must purge himself of all vestiges of mercy so that he may once more be his purist self. He realized that now as his mind wondered to other flagrant displays of weakness.
Black Wings had provided salvation to the Man-Drake: Dovahkiin. The Tyrant Wyrm had saved the fell Mortal... What a fool mistake. The Black Dread had assumed the Dragonborn to be as weak as the first of his kindred - yet he was stronger. Far, far, far stronger than the Traitor. The Black Wyrm was underprepared for the Mortal's sheer power...
Favored by fate was the man-Drake - empowered by the All-Knower like his forefather before him. Ironic... The Dragonborn, like all Heros, was born free of fate's strings and yet... Yet he gave the God of Fate what it wanted anyway. He didn't even try to resist Alduin's Rival as it whispered the blackest, and most wretched, of secrets unto the fell Mortal.
Alduin was weak for expressing mercy. The Eldest Elder knew he should've devoured the Mortal when first they met. He almost did, too... Yet the Tyrant Wyrm thought otherwise. He did believe, in his weakness, that if the Dragonborn truly possessed a Dovah's Soul than he would understand the necessity of the Firstborn's actions.
Alduin foolish believed the Dragonborn would join him... As a brother. He knew better now. The man-Drake is as evil as any other human...
The Mortal, in spite of his heritage, was as daft as the rest of his breed. He did not... Or could not understand why the Mortals need a God-King. He... He thought they could rule themselves. Or...
Or mayhaps he desires to rule over them as Dread Alduin once did? It made more sense to the fallen God than it's contrary. Mortals are greedy... Why wouldn't the most human of all Mortals be the greediest? Of course... He desired the status of God-King.
And too think the Tyrant Wyrm showed him mercy... Weak. Pathetic. The furnace-heart did seethe at all Mankind. The Black Wyrm hated all men and women. The young and old. The weak and strong. The wise and foolish. He hated them all...
Mercy was his weakness... Loving Men was his weakness. Mortals do not share this flaw. They cannot feel even the slightest hint of empathy or compassion... Only greed. Greed and bloodthirst. Of that he did respect them... At least they were true to their nature and honest to themselves unlike Paarthurnax.
His new reign would not be as weak as his last. He learned from his mistakes. There will be no mercy, no redemption, no love. Only Alduin and his malice. The faithful will be rewarded... All others will be destroyed. No more second chances.
There will be no exiles, no punishments, no salvation. Only death too those who wronged Divinity. The loyal ones will be rewarded, of course, yet... They would need a short leash. They will be judged strictly and harshly... All Men are animals. He made the mistake of treating them with respect before. He will not do so again. They are most vile! Wicked, ugly, weak, stupid little creatures! They all must be cured of their Mortal stupidity. And if not cured... Then they will be erased. All of the sinners, heretics, and blasphemers will be devoured without question, hesitation, or a chance for mercy.
All Men are cattle. They're are beasts too be broken and dominated. Those who foolishly believe they're deserving of more will banished too the Void; becoming one with the Nothing-Soul. Even the faithful will be pruned of all those harboring the traitor-thought. None will be shown even an inkling of mercy! None will be free... Not before Alduin, the World Water! Humanity will pay penance for all time...
"F-father...!" A soft and weak voice carried itself to his ears. The Mortal's voice. The child's voice... The Pyt's voice. His furnace-heart did smolder as Black Dread narrowed in on the sound. She was beneath him... Near him. The sound did stem from below his neck - near where he had coilied in on himself, "Hhhuusssahhh..."
She made a hissing gasp in her slumber. She did not sleep soundly. Her breathing came fast and harsh. He could feel her against his scales, he now realized.
Her form was small and so too was it's feeling against his vastness. Her flesh felt... Cold. Like the fridged winds of Atmora, or the neverending blizzards of Akavir. It made the Tyrant Wyrm... Nostalgic. His furnace-heart did cool as he recalled what few memories he possessed that could be labeled 'fond.'
"Hhhuussss...!" He could feel her shifting against his hide. Soft fabric prevented flesh and scale from meeting. Her freezing shape felt... Soothing, in a way. Her touch reminded him of the peaceful frosty moutains he originated from.
Oft' it was that great Alduin laired upon moutaintops. They served as fantastic perches through which the Eldest Elder could perview all the lands for dozens, and in some cases, hundreds of miles...
She smelt of pine cones, of freshly cut grass, and of a queer tinge. The tinge was like smoldering iron, or burning steel. Faint, weak, yet impossible to miss once one is familiar with it. Her scent reminded him of the many great forges fueled by Dragon's fire and Dragon's water that invested him with such great pride once.
There was a time long, long ago where all cities housed a Dragon's Roost - a Mortal-crafted perch for which any Drake or Jill could rest upon and be admired. The Mortals praised the Dragons with love once, and so the Dragons rewarded them with many tokens - chief of which was the forge and the grindstone and the hammer. The humans built such grand works in honor of their Twilight God... Few such relics have survived the passage of the eras.
The Eldest Elder could hear the faint beating of a frail heart; small and meager. The Pyt's life-giving organ did thunder against it's bone-cage. Her heart was enraptured by nightmares, he surmised. This... This did bring a great smoldering to the furnace-heart; mind tortured by memories of betrayal. The touch of her fear, and her cold skin, reminded him of the many troubles brought about by the Vampyr-Serpents and their false-Dragons... Oft' was it that he thought of them and feasting upon the heart and blood of Dragon kin.
The God-Dragon did shift slowly. He did so by instinct. He slithered his neck as though a serpent; night-black darkening glassen earth. He circled about the Pyt with a slow and careful restraint so that he would not crush her.
Ever carefully did he form a great ring of Dragon scales about the sleeping Mortal. He used himself too shield her from the gaze of the night and her...
"L... Lilah?" From his perch of rest did the seething ruby-eye spy the full moon high amongst her resting spot. She did lord over Heaven in her beauty, yet... She was without her brother. The grander of the twin moons was gone. He could not see nor sense him. He was betixt confusion and mild irritation. He was... Uncertain. At times the masculine moon did hide behind his sister, yet he was far too large to be completely hidden.
"Hhhhhaaaa... Huusssshh! N-no!" The child did whisper and thrash in her state of rest. He could feel the kicking of her bare feet against his night-black scales of ruin, "F-father..!"
"Rrrrsssnnngggsss..." A low and grumbling hiss escaped Alduin's throat, "Hahvulon. Vos Zu'u, Alduin, wah frey hi, Peyt..." His tail shifted from it's rest. He pulled it to his side, earth heaving and wind whistling, as he laid it atop his wing. The tip of his barbed tail did settle atop his head; the light of the moon now steeled from the young Pyt. He shifted his thumb-claw as he let the scythe-talon rest near his snout - wing blanketing the child from the cold.
Her nightmare persisted. A scarlet glowing eye did watch her more directly now as his new position did allow. Her face was betwixt fear and pain. He could see tears rolling from her eyes, her lips trembling, and her hands grasping an object about her thin neck. Her ebony hair laid long and messily about her features; pale skin admist inky blackness. She looked like the feminine moon... Small, vulnerable, and exposed.
The Dread Tyrant shifted his raptor-claws against the earth so he may rise ever so slightly. Her body, hidden by a reddish-black garment, did shake. He could smell her fear. It was rich...
"Rrrooooophhh!" The Dragon huffed, "Thou art... Confusing, Pyt." The way she filtered through emotions was most queer. From anger to joy, from joy to fear, from fear to sadness... She did mention a dead father. Mayhaps her mind drifts to him? Most certainly...
Alduin desired nought but one thing in that moment: too understand Ruth. Too understand why she chose him over her own Gods. For so long had he been alone... For so long had he been despised... He knew it was weak to do so, yet... He leapt at the first chance he had for a companion. He anointed her as his Chosen Prophet too swiftly. She wasn't ready... She did not know the Old Ways, let alone how to govern Men according to them. He must teach her how to carry herself, how to treat others, and how to appropriately leige over her fellow humans.
He acted rashly. He regretted that now, yet... He was at least no longer alone. The God-Dragon had found his Priest... His Chosen Prophet. He had found a new Nahkriin... And like Nahkriin once did, she has so much left too learn. She will not understand some of it. Even Nahkriin, wisest of his breed, could never hope to understand the complexities of it all. Being a God-King is never simple or easy. But at least Nahkriin understood the core principlas of the Beast of Aldugga, if not the deeper implications.
Yet the Pyt wasn't Nahkriin. Nahkriin shared Alduin's malice for Man, yet the Pyt? Nay... She was bereft of any inkling of true hate - only it's glimmer. She was a soft and weak creature by her own admission... Unfit to be a Priest of the God-Dragon. Yet he had already declared it so and as such could not revoke his word with becoming a liar... Reckless. He had been reckless and now he must pay the price.
The Black Dread was beholden to his words. He never lied, or spoke half-truths, or attempted to sway one through falsehoods and metaphor. He spoke truth! At times, yes, his vision was clouded and so too his words... But even in his blackest of rages did he never betwixt one with falsities! Not even once.
His dedication too truth was as much a strength as a weakness, he knew. He both lost and gained many allies from it... Lost many of his traitor-brothers too it.
Alduin detested the kings, the peasants, and the bards - for it is they who father the greatest of lies; but chief of all Mortal liars is the the All-Knower's Thrall - the first Traitor. He who insipidly inspired rebellion in the hearts of the faithful... He who has been forgotten by the Time-Dragon for his sacrilege.
The Traitor escaped persecution through Entropy's Rival. He lingers to this day in a Realm of twisting angles, warped time, and unknowable colors. He plays the role of servant to his colorless God of Black Waters... He is one of the few who escaped Divine judgement.
The Tyrant Wyrm watched his young worshipper sleep while betwixt fear and dread. She groaned, she twisted, she whispered. He knew of ways too mend that. He could use his Thu'um to banish away her frights... But he would not. She was soft... If she were to be Prophet then that must change. She needs to learn of strength... Too be broken and reforged into something new. Something stronger... Something worthy of being Alduin's personal Prophet.
For now he would let her sleep... Let her fears and ills eat away at her mind. He would seethe malice unto her; scales of night-black warm and ironclad.
She will learn to hate like Nahkriin before her. She will learn to seethe as her God. She will learn to despise weakness. The Black Dread will ensure his Prophet grows strong, wise, and as unlike the rest of her kin as is possible. She will come to embody the strongest traits of the human spirit without embracing the weaknesses of mercy, regret, or love.
Together the Prophet and her Twilight God would slumber; one dreaming of fear, the other dreaming of malice...
"I say we should confront this interloper," In a land far, far removed from the Domain of Men did the Dragon Gods stir, "His arrival alone has proved... Chaotic."
"Patience," Bespoke the elder of the Twins, "Of what crime has he committed? I know you've caused far more destruction than smoting a mere moutain." The Tree of Life did sway upon gentle winds. Golden leaves fluttered unto the earth - mending the broken things they kissed.
"But I helped father this world. I have earned the rights to remove the aspects of it I do not enjoy. This interloper hasn't." The Dark Twin did prod further. He stood before his Brother's Tree - the very one cunstructed in their Mother's image. The Tree, it's sap, and it's leaves did possess the ability to reincarnate the souls of Mortals into the flesh of newborn babes - be it of Man or Beast. It was but a pale imitation of their Mother's Gift of True Rebirth to the wretches of their first and everlasting Domain. The one they abandoned too create this world together.
"Whose too say whether the interloper belongs here or not... We were not born of this Realm. We, in essence, do not belong either," It was truth; the Dragon Gods, indeed, were born not of this finite and fleeting existence - but of a Realm eternal and consumed by meaningless change, "Besides, the humans have grown... Wearisome. Perhaps our arrival may... Disrupt their stagnation."
"Oh, of course, Brother. Let him dig his roots deep in our garden as we stay here and watch the rot bear sickly fruits. I am sure we won't regret this later..." The sun shined bright upon this Holy Site - the Domain of the Light God. Yet it was stained in the gloom of twililght thanks to the arrival of the Father of Grimm, "I must admit that you truly are the 'wisest' of us all."
"Little Brother, you are rash... You let your baser nature dictate your actions like a human. Relax... He is no threat to us. He is merely a interloper... I am confident he will leave of his volition when he is ready." The Light God spoke unto his Dark Twin. Silence settled between the Divinities as a great wind did blow golden leaves free from the Tree. The Brothers stood side by side as they observed a brewing storm in the distance.
"And if he doesn't wish too leave?" The Light God did lower his eyeless gaze unto the Waters of Life - the Foutain of Youth. He had created these very waters too nurture the earth in her primordial eras. It had few uses left, but... He allowed it to remain out of a sense of duty. How could he destroy something responsible for so much of this world's ripe fruits?
"We observe... We will observe until he does something that warrants direct action. Until then, little Brother, we wait and watch," He would've sighed were he a human. A God he may be yet that does not free him from the stresses of having his authority questioned.
Too be a perfect being of order is... Taxing. He, at times, failed to live up to his own example... In moments of frailty, the Light God oft' failed to be orderly at all. At times he was as destructive as his Brother. Yet he did what he could too mend the broken things and heal the despair ridden... But it was not always so easy.
"Very well, Brother. I will not question you further. My children call too me... Farewell." Into the shadows did the Grimm Father meld and dissipate. He returned to his own Domain of Darkness. The Light God stood alone before his Tree of Life.
"Children?" The Light Twin's voice was mocking, "Wretched things... You really should of destroyed them all when we created Mankind," He bemused to himself, "Humans are our true children. Not those hideous mockeries of my Firstborn you call 'sons' and 'daughters.'" The Brothers had many disagreements... Many battles. The Light despised the Dark's needless apathy, and the Dark despised the Light's needless vanity. Yet the Gods of Light and Dark needed one another... They were two halves of a greater whole, in truth. Useless if not tempered by the other.
The God of Light hung his head as thunder arced across the Heavens. He could sense a brewing storm, yes, but within that storm he tasted...
Malice. Pure, unending, and ever maddening fury called out to him... He knew his Brother felt it as well. The interloper's mark upon the world. He wanted too believe their new arrival was benevolent and yet... That became increasingly unlikely.
The God of Light did meld into the Tree of Life; his Golden Essence merging with the Tree's very sap. The God did rest amongst bark and leaves - one with nature. He pondered.
The interloper assumed the form of a four limbed Dragon. The Light Twin knew not if he was a Dragon, or merely played at being one. Yet the creature claimed to be so to the human known as Ruth.
Yes, the Gods saw it. They see all that befalls under sunlight or moonlight - such is their powers of awareness. They saw the interloper's fall, they saw the girl's discovery of him, and they saw her swear fealty.
Yes, it did sting. The God of Light would not deny feeling a fleeting sense of anger at her swift of betrayal of him, yet... He is not his Dark Twin. He can resist the baser urges of destruction and petty revenge.
He and his Brother created Man to be in possession of free will for a reason. If she worship this 'Dragon' then so be it. He would not intervene over such a trivial jab at his ego. The God of Light had hoped his wayward creation would've been wiser, more inclined to forethought yet. A shame, really. And to think he had hoped she would live up to her mother's example... A true pity.
The interloper was a queer thing. He was clearly magical, not of Mortal spirit, and he did exude an Aura not unlike that of the Gods. Yet the 'Dragon' was distinct from Divinity... He could sense within the interloper's smoldering heart laid enumerable ambitions. That may prove... Undesriable.
He would send a Champion of Men too investigate this 'Dragon' in the coming morning. Yes, a mighty warrior... Someone noble of heart. The human will deduce the true nature of the malicious presence and report back. Then...
Then the Gods will judge then interloper and his newfound Prophet...
Aria of Ashes here.
Hope your all doing well! I haven't had the best week, hence my slow update. Dealing with... Pretty much everything one can deal with, I guess. Oh well... Onto the main point, I suppose.
Fun fact: early on during development, Monty Oum planned for Ruby Rose to be a wolf Faunus! And to have dark gray hair. The hair was changed as it made her look too old, but I don't know why they decided to make Ruby a human. Maybe so Blake would be more special?
Fun fact 2: Yang was at one point in development going to have permanent red eyes and flaming hair. That was changed because Monty prefered the lilac look and wanted her Semblance too be more visibly unique. Yang was also meant to be Qrow's daughter at some point during development.
Fun fact 3: Jaune was originally a joke character. He was meant to only appear in a single episode - originally during the Ruby Rose episode of Volume 1. This was changed because Miles really, really, really wanted a self-insert character through which he could pretend he was cool back in highschool. I will be honest... I do not like Jaune - mainly because I think Miles is an extremely despicable human being.
Not so fun fact - kinda sad fact, really: Miles contributed to Monty Oum's death. Monty died from cat allergies because his girlfriend valued them more than his life - so much so it led to several arguments between the two. Miles convinced Monty not to break up with her after one such argument. Because of this Monty died shortly thereafter from allergies. His girlfriend then proceeded to make 250,000$ off of gofundme to cover funeral expenses... Not a single dime was put into Monty's funeral. But it was used so she could have surgery performed to enlarge her breasts... She's a real keeper, eh?
Ok, to lighten the mood I'll share a more light-hearted fun fact: Ozpin and the Wizard were initially seperate characters. Ozpin was initially envisioned as puppet controlled by the Wizard - potentially even under mind control hence the "It's almost like he's not even there..." line Yang says about him in Volume 1. The Wizard has since been merged with Ozpin too create the character of Ozma, but the Wizard character was originally gonna be the main villiain before Salem was conceived. This is still seen in how the writers constantly hate on Ozma for literally no reason - even over things he has no control over like being merged with Oscar.
Yeah... That's all. Have a good day/night!
For now: I will return to the void and fade into ashes.
