Wyrmling (Elder scrolls/Worm Crossover

by PrincePenguin2002

Summary:

When his blade pierced Alduin's chest, the Dragonborn expected peace, a release from the endless chains of fate… but the gods had other plans.

Cast into a world not his own, with an impossible task before him and a child whose actions could either save or doom it, he finds he must once more stand against the unraveling of reality itself

"Shor's sake… let's get this over with."

Chapter 1

"As big as the mountain, and as black as night."

Even after all this time, the hysterical ravings of Sven's old mother echoed in the recesses of my mind.

And as far as descriptions of the World-Eater went… it was one of the most fitting I'd ever heard.

"Face me! Coward!" A coarse voice full of hate roared off to my left — one of the ancient heroes who had banished Alduin thousands of years ago, if I remembered correctly.

I begrudgingly sat up from my relaxed position on the ground. I saw her: the proud Nord Battle-Maiden, standing a dozen meters away at the edge of the fog, her head was laid back as she glared angrily into the hazy skies above us.

I followed her gaze into the deep, swirling storm above — to merely call it 'big' would be an insult, it could probably swallow all of Tamriel if it wanted.

But it was not the raging maelstrom that bore the fire of her ire... it was the dark mountainous shadow circling at its center.

I caught sight of it —of him— for a moment before he vanished into the thundering storm… only to reappear above the screaming Shield-Sister an instant later.

CRUNCH.

She didn't even have time to scream. One heartbeat she was there — blade raised, fury in her eyes — the next? she was gone, nothing but a red mist hanging in the air… and even that vanished as a blast of wind strong enough to fell the biggest Eldergleam tore through the field and strip the earth bare beneath it.

"GORMLIAH!" another voice cried, the aged tone cutting through the roaring winds — the old man, the one in grey robes I had mistaken for a Greybeard when I first arrived at the Hall of Valor.

He let out a mournful cry, clutching at the amulet around his neck. when i had first arrived he and his two companions had boasted to me, how they had spent thoudands of years preparing for thsi rematch with Alduin.

And yet it still wasn't enough. Their souls? now forfeit to the hunger of the World-Eater.

But if I were being brutally honest, I didn't care. Frankly, I was far more worried about the whereabouts of my helmet.

I'd spent hours at the forge on that thing — hammered it, quenched it, ruined it twice before I finally got it right. Never mind the enchanting. I was fairly sure old Turrianus had hauled me off the arcane table half a dozen times before the runes finally held.

i shook my head as i forced myself up, he world lurched beneath and almost seemed to rock, leaving me staggering around mead-drunk fool, i managed to steady myself after a moment however as i began to pear across Sovngarde.

The Land of the Dead lay in ruins. Mounds of earth as tall as inns dotted the battlefield, alongside felled trees, a river of blood, and the rolling banks of mist…

But there was no helmet.

Damn.

Reluctantly, I turned back to the moment at hand, finding the old man a few steps away from me. He was muttering something under his breath. I tried to listen, if only to avoid seeming rude — but he stopped abruptly.

His eyes snapped open and locked onto mine.

Gone was the weariness of battle, the sorrow of loss. All that remained was an unyielding wrath.

"Dragonborn!"

His booming voice cut through my meandering thoughts like Wuuthrad through Mer flesh.

"Are you ready to end this?"

The iron edge in his tone swelled to something almost deafening as he spoke.

Was I ready?

No.

"Yes," I lied.

i spoke in but a whisper but even still it send an almost crippling pain tearing through my chest. I nearly toppled back down into the bloody dirt beneath me.

In my mouth i tasted the coppry twinge of blood, but as I steadied myself, I swallowed it back down, painful as it was.

Not even Akatosh could shape mortal flesh to withstand such prolonged use of the Thu'um.

And I had been using it with near-suicidal recklessness for hours.

Nevertheless the old man responded with a hesitant nod. He saw through me — I knew he did — but we were out of time.

It was now or never.

I watched as the Ancient Hero turned and strode forth, towards the raging typhoon which was growing ever closer. He discarded his blade; the old, venerable steel would do nothing for him now, not with what came next.

With a resigned yet resolute look in his eye, he paused at the howling maw of the storm. I saw a slight tremble in his posture as he drew in his final breath…

And then he roared:

"LOK VAH KOOR!"

It was as if Kynareth herself had swept her vast hand across the sky. One moment the screaming winds drowned every sound and sight… the next, I found myself staring at the awe-inspiring landscape of Sovngarde — and its ugly invader.

Alduin's face still sends a dark chill down my spine. The demon's horrific visage inspires a primordial fear in mortal men.

Unfortunately for Alduin, I am no mere mortal man.

Any dread he might once have caused me now merely paved the way for something far stronger — a guttural fury spawned from the millions the World-Eater has terrorized in his far-too-long existence.

It was hatred. Raw, blinding, all-consuming.

It flooded my thoughts, lit every fiber of my being aflame, and tore itself out of my throat in a blood-curdling roar that shook the heavens:

"JOOR. ZAH. FRUL!"

My Thu'um — my wrath — slammed into the Eater of Worlds with the power to sunder mountains.

And Alduin, the End of all things, the Eater of Worlds... began to fall.

The beast flapped his vast wings in a furious frenzy. it did little to keep him aloft as the unforgiving mistress of gravity grabbed and pulled at him dragging him closer and and closer to me.

He plummeted toward the ground — toward the ghasping form of the Last Ancient Hero, who had fallen to his knees. The old man made no move to stand or flee; he simply stared at the flailing abomination known as Alduin, an almost predatory smirk on his face.

"For Skyrim!" I heard him shout, just a heartbeat before Alduin's bulk crashed down like a meteor upon him.

The ground shook as if the very world were recoiling from the Dragon. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though Sovngarde might split in two — but, much like its Nord inhabitants, the Land of the Dead proved far too stubborn for the World-Eater to break.

Silence ruled for a few precious moments after the crash… before a titanic roar split the heavens as the rampant Dragon reared his ugly head out of the debris field — a truly monstrous sight.

But now?… It was just Alduin and me.

The odds were stacked against me, as always.

My voice — the weapon bestowed upon me by right of birth — gone, reduced to a whisper when it once echoed across continents.

My body — beaten and bloodied by the rigors of battle, i had thrown it time and time again against a deified force of nature.

But my spirit… Well, let's just say I couldn't stop the feral grin from splitting my face.

With a hushed cry, I threw myself at the World-Eater, my once-debilitated steps evening out into something far more focused — the deft, measured advance of a seasoned predator closing on its kill.

But Alduin was no simple pray. The towering black beast turned his disgusting head toward me, his maw opening wide enough to swallow a mammoth whole. A heartbeat later, the mouth of the World-Eater unleashed a torrent of flame hotter than the deepest pits of Oblivion.

The fire kissed my skin, melding steel and flesh as my once-protective armor became a crucible of pain. Agony unlike anything I had ever known tore through me — but I had come too far to let something as trivial as immolation stop me.

I took a deep, smoke-filled breath. The taste of my own burning flesh was worse than the pain — but It gave me what I needed. just one more time, one more little—

"WULD!"

—boost.

I shot forward like a bolt of chain lightning, piercing through Alduin's wall of fire. Even as the flames bubbled and scalded my skin, even as my throat bled and tore itself apart, I found little room to care.

After all, what was a fleeting flash of pain compared to the raw ecstasy of watching a smug immortal's gaze twist into genuine shock… and fear

The fear didn't last long — not because Alduin wasn't afraid. No.

It vanished because, an instant later, something else filled that eye.

A Blade of Ebony, buried to the hilt.

The Eater of Worlds let out a sound so alien, so profoundly wrong, that reality itself seemed to recoil in shock —

The sound of a god crying out in pain.

Alduin flinched violently, ripping the gluttonous blade of Mephala from my grasp. Not that it mattered — I'd kill the bastard with my bare hands if I had to.

He flailed, clawing at his own face as he tried in vain to tear the Daedric artifact free, screeching as he staggered backward — stopping dangerously close to the edge of gorge that separated the Hall of Valor from the rest of the afterlife.

But neither the fall into Oblivion, nor the hissing sword drinking his eye, should have been his greatest concern.

It should have been me.

Me — and the massive ancient steel sword I'd just found lying in the dirt.

…Thanks, old timer.

I charged the floundering Endbringer with a hushed yell, driving the blade forward right into his black heart.

…or at least where I assumed it was. I wasn't entirely sure he had one, if I was being honest.

But i did hit something if his his agonized wailing was anything to go by.

Alduin reeled backward from the blow, dragging me high into the air with him as he lurched back and back until —

Crack.

The rock beneath his talons began to give and brake, hunks of rock as big as carriages broke away as the Dragon once more began to fall

it seemed he hadn't expected the ground to give way.

…unfortunately, neither did I.

For my part i had been busy. It turns out that trying to carve out someone's heart makes little things like gravity seem… redundant.

Or, well — at least until you fall off a cliff.

The fall from Sovngarde was… strange, to say the least. One moment we were at the mercy of gravity, the whistling wind rushing past as Alduin and I screamed at one another.

And then?

There was nothing.

No raging storm. No unyielding pull of gravity. Nothing left to distract me — only Alduin and I… and the blade in my hand.

I didn't need anything else.

Alduin tried to burn me, to bite me, to do anything to stop the inevitable, but it was a futile effort — the last gasp of one who knew he was beaten yet refused to go quietly.

I drove the blade in as deep as it would go, powered by nothing but simmering rage and pure spite.

Alduin roared in fury and i roared back as the blade sank deeper and deeper into his chest, a black ichor spraying across my face. His blood was bitter — tasted like death…

…and yet it was the finest thing I had ever drunk.

I looked the World-Eater through his sole remaining eye, glaring past the hate-filled orb and straight into his black soul. Even as that sickly black blood washed over me, I kept my gaze fixed on that fading spark… watching as it flickered and died.

A golden flame suddenly consumed us, burning the flesh and scales of the Eater of Worlds down to the bone. His blood, which had begun to flood the vast realm of nothingness around us, shuddered and splattered — turning the same brilliant shade of gold.

Alduin had stopped screaming, and for a moment all that remained in the blinding light was my own hoarse voice. My furious scream twisted into roaring laughter. It hurt — gods, it hurt — but it felt so good.

I did it.

He was dead.

I laughed and laughed, even as the pain began to overwhelm me.

"AHHH… may you burn in Oblivion till the end of time!, you—"

"'Dovahkiin.'"

Reality itself shuddered as a voice like rolling thunder spoke, every instinct in my body screaming in response.

…

"…No."

I froze, my joviality dying as quickly as it had arrived. Desperately, I wriggled in the void, searching for anything other than the looming skull before me — but there was nothing.

Nothing but me… and him.

With a pit growing in my blood-filled stomach, I forced my gaze back to Alduin's remains. The once fearsome World-Eater had been reduced to a hunk of decrepit bone. He would have made a fitting trophy to mount on a wall back in Lakeview Manor. Unfortunately, I doubted I would ever get the chance

A river of golden light began to spew from the Destroyer's empty eye sockets.

The Ebony Blade — which had resisted even the fires of the Skyforge — burned, the satanic steel warping and melting until naught but ash remained. I took a small, vindictive pleasure in Mephala's scream of rage as it vanished… but even that enraged wailing was dwarfed by the sudden, overwhelming surge of power as a pair of piercing eyes, brighter than stars, ignited within Alduin's skull.

"Juntiid (Time-King)," I spoke, the word tearing itself from my throat without any conscious decision on my part. I knew the name — knew it was as much a title as it was a moniker — and I knew who claimed it.

Gone was the savage snarl of the World-Eater. In its place stood a regal form which, while mirroring Alduin, carried none of his inherent malice. Golden scales bristling with power shone like the brightest of bonfires, driving back the encroaching darkness. My gaze faltered the moment it met… his.

Looking upon Akatosh — the Dragon-God of Time — was like staring into the sun. A futile effort. The sun does not feel the heat of your glare, nor would it care. All I accomplished was blinding myself like a Mey (fool).

The giant golden dragon huffed in amusement, and I felt a sting to my pride.

He mocked me?

...

He mocked me.

After everything I had done for him — every drop of blood I had bled putting his rebellious spawn back in line — he had the gall to belittle me?

I met the gaze of Akatosh, one of the three, with all the fire my draconic pride could muster. I cared not for the consequences; he wasn't the first divine I had spurned, and though he might very well be the last, I would be damned to Oblivion if I sat here and took it without—

"Hah… hah hah haa."

The Dragon God let out a low, amused chuckle as the crushing intensity around me vanished in an instant.

What—

"The fire of a Dovah indeed burns brightly within you, Dii Kiir (My Child)," Akatosh stated softly.

His ethereal voice carried a note of humor that sent a peculiar feeling warmth through my being. As he spoke, the agony consuming my body — my soul — vanished, as if it had never troubled me at all.

I'd never known a member of Dovah-kind to show anything other than arrogance and disdain for anything weaker than themselves. And make no mistake — I was weaker than this one.

Even Paarthurnax — who claimed to have overcome his inherent evil — had always carried a hint of malice when we spoke.

"They cannot help it. It is simply how we are," Akatosh said softly, and an icy chill battered against the warmth the Dragon God was pouring into me.

Akatosh wasn't the first to violate the sanctity of my mind, but unlike Hermaeus Mora and the Wolf Queen, I couldn't just shout his ass back into Oblivion.

…At least, I didn't think I could.

Akatosh bristled, his once-placid gaze hardening ever so slightly.

"I will not tolerate such Vothaam (disobedience/disrespect) from any of my Kiir (children). Cease your insolence and heed my words, so you may know why I bothered to reclaim you from the void."

The weight of him crushed what little fight I had left. My knees buckled, and I hit the ground, face down, prostrated before my forebearer.

Damn… well, he was definitely the father of dragons. That much was clear.

Even as the unbearable pressure began to ease, I made no effort to stand. Was I really up for this — dealing with another pissy god?

…Why not? I've got nothing else to do at the moment.

"Dovahkiin (Dragonborn)," Akatosh growled, his tone exasperated.

Good.

"I commend you for returning Alduin to me and restoring the balance to Vus (Nirn)…." He hesitated for a moment, his gaze fixed on me.

This is the part where he says but —

"-unfortunately—"

…ehhh. Close enough.

"-your work is not yet finished."

"What?"

I stared at the glowing dragon. Any feeling of accomplishment I had died then and there — like King Torygg when Ulfric came for a visit.

"What the fuck do you mean I'm not done?" I cried, my voice far too pitiful for my liking, but I pressed on regardless.

"I—he's dead! I killed him. Alduin's gone… you said so yourself!" Anger and fury built inside me with every word.

"Your mission was never to 'Krii' (kill) Alduin." Akatosh paused, as if the very idea of Alduin being slain offended him. "It was to put him back in line… to serve as a Vahlok (Guardian) against the Geinviik (Parasite Worms)." The Golden Dragon spat the words, his tone almost seething by the end, the regality of a god lost to the fiery draconic rage that burned bright within Bormahu.

"The fucking what…?" I replied incredulously.

"I have seen visions of their Kaal (Champion/Avatar) — a being which calls itself Zion," Akatosh rumbled. "He will invade our Junaar (Realm). He will battle Alduin. And even after your brother drives him off, all of Vus will be left as nothing but a husk of ash and death."

An all-encompassing fury flooded the realm of nothingness we inhabited.

"I will not allow such a Nimaar (Idiotic) being to ruin my work, to squander all the energy I have spent upon this world," Akatosh roared. The rage radiating from him washed over me —

Unfortunately for Akatosh, the anger that rose in response was very much my own.

"So?" I snapped. "What does any of this have to do with me? If your precious Destroyer can drive him off, then send his scaly ass to fight these fuckers. Isn't that why you made me — to get him back in line in the first place?"

"No!" Akatosh roared. The force of it staggered me backward.

"The Vahlok (Guardian)," he growled, sounding more disappointed than angry, "cannot leave my side. If he does, he will once more try to test my patience. It must be you…" Akatosh declared.

I just stared at him.

"…And what if I say no…" I pondered out loud. Akatosh paused, his golden gaze narrowing as it settled on me. The God of Time went to speak, but I continued:

"I already defied the odds once in your service. I beat one world-ending threat — one I was predestined to beat. Why the hell do I now have to stop another, one that even the World Eater cannot kill?" I challenged, my voice echoing through the void.

"Because if you do not, then another will have to," Akatosh replied, fixing me with a hard stare. "A Goraan Mon (Young Girl)… she will bring ruin upon herself and her world in her desperate attempt to save it."

"Tell me, Dovahkiin… are you truly willing to Zahrahmiik (Sacrifice) a Kiir (Child) for your own survival?"

I stared back. I wanted to roar in anger, to shout him out of existence… but I was just so damn tired. My quest to kill Alduin had consumed me a mad quest to defeat the undefeatable.

And what if I said yes — that I would let her suffer? Would he accept it? Would he try to convince me… or force me to go? perhaps would he simply leave me in this void to my fate?

I was no fool. I could feel the eyes of the Daedra upon me; were it not for my father's presence, they would have torn me apart in a futile bid to claim whatever scraps they could.

Vultures, the lot of them.

Now, fear of death held little sway over me. I had long since considered myself dead. After all, having your neck laid upon a headsman's block, with the hooded bastard looming above you leaves a lasting impression. Still, death wasn't something I actively sought out… despite my best efforts to prove otherwise.

Regardless, self-preservation no longer held any sway over my actions. And even if it still governed me… I doubted my answer would change.

"You know damn well I wouldn't," I spat scornfully. "Fine, then. You've proved your point. Let this be over with already. I no longer wish to look upon your face, Dragon."

I fixed my sovereign with every ounce of frustration, anger, hatred, and malice I could muster. For just a moment, I thought I saw him flinch.

But before I could even smile at that small victory, the great golden Dragon was upon me.

"Then prepare yourself, Dii Kiir, for the future before you is filled with nought but pain and strife," Akatosh spoke.

I went to offer a cheeky response… only for a blinding agony to tear through me as a far-too-familiar energy began to seep out of my body and into the glowing mass of the Dragon God.

"I apologize once more, Dovahkiin, but I cannot send you physically to their realm. To open a bridge between our worlds would draw the eyes of the Destroyer. Instead, I shall send your mind and immortal soul into the world their Kaal chooses to wander. You will serve as a Vahlok — a guide to the hero who will slay the Avatar — and with your influence, the end of things as we know them may yet fail to pass," Akatosh explained.

For my part, I was far too busy screaming in pain to listen — let alone respond. And even if I hadn't been, my mouth no longer obeyed my will.

In the blink of an eye, I found myself cradled in the palm of Akatosh's massive golden hand my body stood life-less before me, my face eternally frozen in horror.

Akatosh did not care, his unyielding fingers began to twist and mould my essence like a child playing with a lump of clay.

Around me, the sound of the vast void muffled, as if a heavy sheet had been draped over reality itself. The looming gaze of the Daedra that had bored into the back of my mind faded into nothingness, leaving only me… and my creator.

Me — the great and mighty Dragonborn, slayer of Alduin and Miraak — reduced to a candle in the shadow of the sun.

"I release you from your mortal shackles, Dii Kiir(My Child). Go forth, restored to your true form, and cast down the Great Enemy for the sake of Vus!" Akatosh declared.

A sudden jolt of agony tore through my essence as Akatosh wrenched free a stray strand of it… a shard of my soul. It slithered away into his awaiting claw.

"There you are," Akatosh muttered, more to himself than to me.

I wanted to tell him to shove it up his scaly ass.

I couldn't.

Akatosh spoke something to the shard — more a whisper than a shout — and it twisted and writhed in response, drawn toward its master's world. It grew and grew, blossoming into an all-encompassing blue light that threatened to swallow the entire realm.

Akatosh — my creator, my tormentor — cast one final look my way.

He spoke no words. His lingering gaze held something like resignation. I tried to glare back at him, though I wasn't even sure how I was seeing anything at all.

He huffed anyway.

And then he shoved me into the light.

I tumbled and turned, flung through the void, a streak of burning essence hurling between the stars. The cosmos blurred into smears of light as I raced onward — Nirn long gone.

Yet, oddly, it was peaceful. i took a moment to enjoy the quiet spectacle

At least until a voice, soft as snowfall on High Hrothgar, curled around my thoughts.

"Drem. Be still, Zeymahlos (Little Brother)."

My mind froze. The haze thinned. I knew that voice.

Knew it in bone, in breath, in every scrap of what remained of my soul.

"It would seem," Paarthurnax murmured, ancient warmth coiling around the words, "that Bormahu wills our paths to cross once more. A new kalpa (cycle)… a new struggle. Always another."

If I'd had a body, I would've shuddered. If I'd had a voice, I would've cursed. But I was only light, a half-torn soul drifting in the wake of a god.

"Do not fear," he continued, his tone impossibly gentle for a creature forged from fire and the merciless flow of time.

"I hold no ill will for your... previous actions. We all carry scars we would rather forget."

The ache in his voice cut deeper than any Thu'um.

Images shimmered around us — conjured, coaxed into being by his will. A girl. Wounded. Alone. Her pain radiated across my essence like a cold wind. This world was cruel to her... and that pissed me off.

Paarthurnax hummed, a deep resonanting sound that shook me.

"There," he said softly. "The one whose fate twines with your own. Kiir Kaal, the Child of Fate. She suffers… and yet she endures, much like you. You will go to her, and together you will shape the path yet to come."

I felt myself steady in his grasp — or whatever passed for grasp in this place.

"You are Vahzeymah now. A brother made new. A Dov reborn."

There was pride in his voice. Sadness, too.

"Go, little one. I shall keep the eyes of this world and its… web from noticing you."

"May your new path be kinder than the one before."

Then, as always, I was cast down into yet another dark void.

Frankly, this was getting repetitive.

But there was a difference between this dark space and the last… namely, the scent of decay that had suddenly begun to assault my senses.

I almost gagged. I was no stranger to the smell of death — the tombs of the ancients always carried it — but I had never known it so pungent, so thick I could almost taste it.

I had to get out.

I needed to get out.

I roared and rammed my head against the walls surrounding me. The familiar echo of scale against steel rang in my ears, but I paid it little mind as I swung my claws at the metal, gouging deep gashes into it.

A warm river of blood began poured down my face from where I'd smashed it against the steel… but even so, triumph rose in my chest as the shoddy craftsmanship of my cage revealed itself. The corner of what I assumed was the door had begun to bulge beneath my assault, allowing a thin trickle of light to spill through the breach.

I surged forward, ramming my snout into the opening. Fresh air flooded my lungs — sweet as the finest wine, richer than honey. It vanished a moment later as the stench of death followed me out

I pushed harder. The metal buckled and bent as I forced my body through the far-too-small opening. I felt flesh tear, skin split — but I didn't care.

I was out.

I was free —

— and I was falling... again.

God damn it.

At the very least, this fall was far more abrupt than the last two. After only a few seconds, I slammed into a hard floor. The impact hurt, but I'd been through far worse, and I was just glad to be out of that damned cage.

I lay there for a moment, sprawled in a growing pool of my own blood. The cold stone I lay on was a welcome counter to the hot, burning pain of my wounds, but frankly, I was just grateful to finally have a moment to myself —

"What the fuck is that?" a young girlish voice questioned from somewhere off to the side.

"…And here we go again," I muttered to myself as I forced my tired eyes open.

I raised my head from where it lay on the ground, scanning my surroundings warily. I had to blink several times, trying to clear something slick and clinging from my vision. It resisted, stretching rather than breaking, until I shook my head sharply and the film finally tore away.

A moment later, my sight cleared, and I spotted the source of the voice.

A young girl — a Redguard? — stood a dozen paces away. Her face was caught somewhere between curiosity and trepidation. Unfortunately, that didn't last. The instant our eyes met, something far more primal took hold of her.

It was a reaction I'd seen countless times before — one I'd learned to enjoy in the faces of my enemies.

Fear.

But seeing it in the face of a child?

That didn't sit well with me.

"Worry not, lass — I mean you no harm," I tried to say, forcing my tone into something calm, something reassuring.

What came out instead was —

"SCREEEEE—!"

An ugly, furious screech tore from my throat, like a cat whose tail had just been trodden on.

The sound was wrong. Horribly wrong.

The girl cried out, clapping her hands over her ears as she staggered back. Her eyes locked onto me, wide and glassy, like a rabbit that had just spotted a wolf. Then she turned and fled — backpedaling at first, then outright sprinting away at a speed that would've put any courier to shame.

…Fuck.

What the hell was wrong with my voice?

I lifted a hand — no, not a hand — to rub the last of the clinging film from my eye, only to freeze.

Claws.

Far too long. Far too sharp.

Black scales covered them, sharp and horribly familiar. I looked down and felt something cold settle in my chest. Gone was the body of a Nord — replaced by thick, corded muscle, far to wide and pronounced. The same sickly scales traced every line of it.

No.

My gaze snapped around wildly until it landed on a broad sheet of metal — the warped remains of my prison. In its battered reflection, I saw a shape that had burned itself into my mind long ago.

A dragon.

And then I saw the face.

Every warning screamed at once. Every instinct I had recoiled in horror.

I stared at my reflection.

…The visceral visage of Alduin stared back.

Chapter 2: Arrival 1.1

Notes:

(AN:DovahZul is a strange language which is as much reliant on the context of the sentence as it is the word choice, some translations may not be exact, but rather as close to fitting the intended word.)

I stared at the reflected face of Alduin—the being who had terrorised my existence for years.
The monster I had, quite literally, been forged to hate and kill.

And I spat fire at the horrid image.

Which, all things considered, was a rather tame response on my part.

I watched as the twisted echo burned away under the raw intensity of my flame—my fire washing over the cage, the paint bubbling and boiling until all that remained was blackened steel. I kept breathing until I was left gasping for air.
Just to be sure.

I took a few deep, calling breaths as I glared at the smoking metal where he had been.
Alduin was gone—or at least, I no longer had to look upon him. I tried to force him from my thoughts, focusing instead on the steel plate in front of me.

Said steel should have been reduced to molten slag after that much dragonfire, so the fact that the damage was little more than superficial irked me.

"Great. So not only am I tiny, but my fire isn't firing properly… heh."

I didn't have much time to enjoy my little joke, however, as a sudden—and profoundly annoying—wailing began stabbing at my ears.

And then it began to rain.
Inside a building.

"Hmm," I grunted, glancing up at the ceiling where a strange metal contraption was mounted.

"A trap?" I murmured to myself.
"Quite tame compared to the ones back home," I added, attempting critique.

Unfortunately, all that came out was another angry screech.
Which was odd. All dragons could speak at least a little Common; indeed, many spoke it better than some scholars I knew. Yet I couldn't so much as curse.
A notable problem for one like me.

I wasn't left to ponder it for long. A sudden flurry of chattering reached my ears.
Voices… young voices.

I stared in growing horror as a deluge of children began to flood out of the doors, many holding things over their heads to shield themselves from the downpour.

It took seconds for the first one to spot me.
His reaction was much the same as the first girl I had run into. He froze for a moment as his mind caught up with his eyes. They widened, and he—

"AHHHHHHH!"

—screamed, a high-pitched shriek that would put any banshee to shame.

And that… was all it took.

He screamed as he threw himself back as far from me as he could. A few others stared at him in confusion, only to then follow his gaze to me.
And then they screamed too.
Others still saw the commotion and, lacking context beyond the frenzied actions of their peers, decided it wasn't worth sticking around for answers.

"Bah," I muttered as all hell broke loose. The mob surged through the hallway, crashing into one another like a gaggle of terrified geese, while the incessant wailing continued to hammer into my head.

Now, ordinarily, a horde of adolescents charging at me—much less a dragon-shaped version of myself—would have been little cause for concern. Unfortunately, I was barely a foot tall, and the likelihood of being trodden to death was rising by the second.

And so I, the Last Son of Akatosh, slayer of Alduin and a hundred other dragons, promptly turned tail and scampered away as fast as my little legs would carry me.

If I ever saw my father again, we were going to have words.

I ran—or tried to. It was less a sprint and more a gangly crawl, my claws failing to find proper purchase on the wet, slippery floor.
I dodged—"Pardon me"—and dove—"Watch it, kid"—between stamping feet. I had to get out of this bottleneck fast, before I—or Kyne forbid, one of the children—got hurt.

I twisted past another descending boot as I scanned my surroundings for a solution to my predicament.
All I saw was an army's worth of thundering feet striking the ground.

I cursed and pressed myself as tightly against the wall as I could, sending a few kids sprawling away in their panic. I might have stayed there—
Until I saw it.

A spear's throw away: an ajar door leading anywhere other than here.

Decision made, I dodged another flailing limb and set off, squeezing between the stamping legs of the mob like a bar of soap between a giant's fingers.

I was no stranger to running on four feet. A few drunken escapades with the Companions—in both forms—had seen to that.
But running as a dragon? That felt strange, unnatural even. I could do it, sure, but it felt like I was moving the wrong way…

Wait.
I have wings.
I can fly.

Granted, flight was not something I was well versed in. Sure, I had flown before—but always on the back of Odahviing or one of Miraak's pet dragons.
Regardless, it was better than staying at ideal stomping height.

Besides… how hard could it be?

After avoiding yet another near-fatal stamp, I crouched as low as I could… before pouncing high into the air.
I flapped my wings as fast and as hard as I could, and then… I flew.
Sort of.

It turned out that, in my earlier escape from the Cage of Death, I had torn a sizable gash through one of my wings. The result was an exceptionally large leap… followed by something best compared to a thrown boot.

And then things went from bad to worse.

One of the students—the same one who had opened the door to safety—froze in shock, centered directly in my flight path.

"Duck, you stupid kid!" I roared, my words dissolving into unintelligible screeching that only drew his gaze to my rapidly approaching form.

He blinked.
I crashed into him.
He lurched backward, sending the two of us careening into—and then through—the door.

Well.
Fuck.

We tumbled into the room—which, mercifully, seemed empty—and hit the ground hard. I rolled with the fall. The teen came to a stop a few paces away, groaning in pain.

The impact did little to me—or rather, no more than I was already hurt. Not that it mattered.
The unfortunate kid I'd collided with, however? He fared far worse.
After all, he'd just been hit by what was, for all intents and purposes, a flying brick.

I dragged myself to my feet, even as the world spun around me. My legs buckled under my weight, but I forced myself upright and crawled toward my unfortunate victim.

I scanned him with sharp, if dazed, eyes.
He was alive at least, groaning in pain as he lay dazed on the ground. Blood poured from his crooked nose where I had struck him, but the worst injury was to his head—he had knocked himself senseless when he hit the ground.

"Faal… zu'u krin," (Damn… you fool) I muttered, cursing myself.

Head injuries were always a dice roll. You could wake up fine… or never wake up at all. Either way, I wasn't leaving it in the gods' hands.

One thing I'd noticed was that, unlike Common, Dovahzul flowed naturally from my tongue. That gave me at least one tool.

I swallowed a deep breath.
"Aak—Slen·Hah!" (Heal—Body—Mind)

The words flowed with unnatural grace, more a loud squawk than a roar. While it lacked the force of a true Shout, it did not lack power.

A surge of green, mystical energy burst from my mouth, enveloping the injured youth. He let out a gasp—half pain, half relief—as the magic took hold.

A moment later, the green glow faded, and the room fell silent—a silence that stretched far too long for my liking.

Then the kid lurched upright, taking a deep, half-panicked breath, a shaky hand held to his chest.
I sighed in relief.

The child dragged himself into a sitting position, tearful eyes settling on me as he took in his surroundings.
And he promptly kicked me as hard as he could before scrambling backward.
Honestly? A fair enough reaction.

I lay there on my back, staring at the spinning ceiling, half mesmerized, half concussed. The door slammed open as the youth fled, but I paid it little mind. I let my heavy lids droop as the panicked screams faded, leaving me in blissful silence.

Well, apart from that fucking alarm.

I cracked open one eye, spotting the flashing little bastard perched above the doorway.

"Fo-Krah-diin," I spat, freezing it solid and finally silencing it.

I breathed out in relief and rested my head on the cold ground. I could feel myself drifting off into sleep… only for the door to smash open once more.
I sighed

(AN: note DovahZul is a strange language which is much reliant on context of the sentence as it is the word choice, some translations may not be exact, but rather as close to the meaning as i could get.)

Chapter 3: Arrival 1.2

Taylor POV

 

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake, huh?” a gruff voice said as I slowly came out of my daze.

 

“Wha—” I slurred sleepily, a bit of drool escaping down my chin.

 

“Oh—shit,” I muttered as the blob of slobber dripped onto my ragged tunic.

 

Wait.

 

Why was I wearing a ragged tunic?

 

“They caught you trying to cross the border, right?” the voice continued, his accent unfamiliar enough that I had to concentrate to follow it.

 

“Border? What border?” I asked, turning to look at the large, bearded man beside me.

 

He didn’t answer. Instead, he launched into a complaint about the ‘Empire’—which, oddly enough, I could at least follow. Complaining about ‘the Empire’ was practically a Brockton Bay pastime.

 

My attention was stolen, however, as a thundering roar echoed all around us

 

I looked to the sky in equal parts worry and curiosity, but between the cart’s bumpy ride and the tall trees hemming us in, it was a futile effort. I turned back toward the man, about to ask if he’d heard it too—

 

Only to find he was gone.

 

In his place stood another man, just as large, his body bound in leather, a humorously small quill clutched in one hand.

 

“What the fuck—”

 

“By your orders, Captain.” He turned to look at me. “I’m sorry. At least you’ll die here, in your homeland. Follow the Captain to the block, prisoner.”

 

He cut off my confused rambling before I could finish.

“At least I’ll die here—what?” I cried. “Why? Am I sick? What the hell is going on?” I begged, as my body began to move on its own.

 

No one answered.

 

I watched helplessly as i followed after this ‘Captain’, she led me toward a strange group of restrained men and women, all dressed in the same blue and grey. Each wore a different expression — anger, fear, resignation — but all of them stared at the same thing.

 

A simple slab of wood, only a few feet away.

 

Another roar shattered the silence, and this time it drew everyone’s attention.

 

Unfortunately, it didn’t last.

 

A man in ornate armor barked an order, commanding a woman in orange to “read us our last rites.”

 

The robed woman began to drone on about gods I didn’t know, about our condemned souls—but she was cut off as a red-haired man strode forward, an enraged snarl upon his lips.

 

He cursed her for wasting his time and practically threw himself onto the block. That was when I noticed the masked executioner standing above him.

 

“My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperial. Can you say the same?” he taunted, smiling at his soon to be killer.

 

That smile didn’t falter, even as his head bounced away.

 

I think I’m going to be sick.

 

“Next! The Nord in the rags!” the captain barked.

 

I looked around.

 

I was the only one in rags.

“No—oh God, no, please, I haven’t done anything,” I cried as I stumbled backward.

 

Hands seized me. Arms as thick as my legs, abd dragged inexorably toward the bloody stump where a man had been moments ago.

 

An echoing roar shook the heavens, rattling stone and bone alike. The hands hesitated—

 

—but a sharp barked order from their superior snapped them back into motion.

 

I was thrown forward.

 

I stumbled, made a vain attempt to keep my footing, only for the Captain to kick the back of my leg out from under me. Pain flared as I crashed down, knees slamming into stone, and then I was forced flat, pinned hard against the blood‑slicked block.

 

It was warm and held a hint of copper.

 

I stared up at the towering man in the black hood.

 

I stared at the blood dripping steadily from his axe, like an gruesome timer for my end.

 

I was going to die.

 

He raised the axe high above his head

 

“What in Oblivion is that?!”

 

—VRAAAAAH—

 

A deafening roar tore through reality itself.

 

Behind the executioner, a mountain fell.

 

No — not a mountain.

 

A creature as large as one.

 

It crashed down atop the high walls surrounding us. Stone groaned and screamed beneath its immense weight, cracks racing outward as the battlements buckled.

 

The headsman turned, axe raised—

 

And a pair of titanic jaws snapped shut around him, swallowing him whole in a spray of blood.

Around me, panic erupted. Screams, shouted orders, boots scrambling against stone. Some tried to restore order. Others tried to flee.

 

It didn’t matter.

 

The noise faded, drowned out, until I was left alone beneath the towering monster perched above me.

 

Slowly, I met its gaze.

 

Eyes as red as the blood dripping from between its fangs stared back hungrily.

 

It smiled.

 

A feral, gore‑slickened grin.

 

“Zu’u hi.”

(You belong to me.)

 

The monster lunged.

 

I couldn’t even muster the will to scream as it drew closer and closer—

 

Until it stopped.

 

Claws as thick as tree trunks froze a hair’s breadth from my throat.

 

No—

 

Not frozen.

 

Held.

 

“Ald niid nol, zeymah!”

(End your meddling, brother!)

 

The black beast roared, and the world trembled.

 

“Dii.”

(No.)

 

The reply was calm. Colder than death.

 

The black beast rumbled in fury as the world around us began to fracture, spiderwebbing like glass. It reared back, maw yawning wide as a torrent of flame surged toward me—

 

Only to shatter midair as the monster vanished with a blood‑curdling roar.

 

I was left shaking, suspended alone in a vast, white void.

 

“Are you well, little one?”

 

The second voice returned like a gentle wind, carrying a quiet, grandfatherly calm.

 

“What… what was that?” I asked, i tried to stop myself shaking, that wasn’t a sight i was soon to forget.

 

“A being of boundless ambition,” the voice replied, weary but steady,

“One who has yet to learn when defeat has already claimed him.” a gust of wind like a sign punctuated the end of its words

 

What the hell could have defeated that!

 

"Do not concern yourself with him... for the path before you carries an abundance of challenges"

 

"'The path before me'?" I echoed, i had managed to stop shaking at least,

 

Before me the void began to change, a small light appeared, as blue as the calm skies above the Brockton docs.

 

"Who, or what are you? and— and where am I, what path?, there's nothing here "I almost begged, throwing my arms out wide to the void around us.

 

"I am a friend, and you're not where you should be..." it continued, answering none of them.

 

The wind made a sound akin to an amused snort as I frowned, my temper beginning to rise.

 

“Be at ease. All will be revealed soon… once you are ready to hear it.”

 

“But for now?… you need to wake—”

 

I blinked.

 

“—up.”

 

The void vanished. And I found myself lying in what could only be a hospital room.

 

I blinked a few more times when i sat up, my joints cracking and letting out a small moan of relief that he dream was over

 

“What the fuck was his problem?” I murmured to myself as I rubbed an eye.

 

“Right? I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s tired of his shit,” a small voice commented from somewhere nearby.

 

I almost jumped from the bed, I scanned my surroundings hurriedly but found only an empty room around me— apart from the sleeping form of my father slumped in a chair.

 

“What,” I said, for what felt like the hundredth time.

 

“Oh. Right. Shit, I’m invisible—hang on,” the voice continued.

 

My bed shook slightly as indentations formed in the blanket, followed by a faint shimmer in the air.

 

There was a flash.

 

Something began to appear before me.

 

Those horrific black scales.

 

I watched in frozen horror as the monster reappeared.

 

Right on top of me.

 

I screamed.

 

“Ah fuck,” it muttered. “Not again.”