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The Lost Dragonborn30

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(General)
His bones ached from so long exposed to the night chill. Skaal he may be but he was not immune to the weather, merely conditioned to it. He was content to merely enjoy the fire and perhaps doze awhile. But that was no longer a possibility, not when his daughter reentered the room, trailed by a Nord and the Halfling. He'd never have been able to tell, the Dunmer in her nearly disguising the Nord features. It was the eyes though, the cold blue that was not native to her kind and even more rare in his own. It was those eyes that zeroed in on him as she approached, sitting across the fire with no greeting to him, no acknowledgment past her steady gaze.
"I am Storn," he greeted, nodding her way.
"Syra," was her response, though she returned his nod.
"How is your injury?" he asked, lifting the warm mead to his chapped lips.
"Well," she replied. "The rest I got didn't hurt."
She looked away from him, her eyes falling on her female companion, the one who stayed tucked in the fire's shadow, hood pulled low over her face. He had tried to coax her out, urge her to join his conversation with the other Nord, Steinar, but she had been stubborn and silent, only interrupting when Steinar began to reveal too much. With Syra's presence though, the Nord had fallen into his own silence. But it was not him that Storn needed to speak to.
"I do not presume to know the All Maker's will," he began with. "But to reunite the dragon within you with Miraak-"
He broke off, shaking his head, unable to share the dread he felt. It was the youth in her face, the appearance of innocence that a hard life had cost his daughter. The youth of this Halfling's was eclipsed by a weariness that just seemed wrong.
"That's the thing, its not just Nithrogr inside me," Syra argued. "I'm more than a dragon soul in a human body."
Her voice was calm but carried weight as she rested a hand on her chest.
"I was a mortal soul, a weak one, but still mortal. Nithrogr is a part of me. I am not a part of her."
It was a subject that had clearly been raised in the past and one she'd given some thought.
"The only way to stop Miraak is to kill him, for good," Storn informed her.
Her face gave nothing away on how this news made her feel.
"I know," she replied, her voice as steady as it had been before.
"Can you do that?" he asked.
"She won't have to," Steinar piped up, his own voice laced with bravado.
Storn pointedly ignored the lad. He had no doubt that the boy would stand some chance against Miraak but not against Miraak and Syra, if she did not speak the truth of her feelings on taking Miraak's life. "Miraak never betrayed Nithrogr. He was loyal to the very end to her and she to him."
Syra's eyes widened a bit.
"Are you implying-"
"It was always viewed as odd how close the two were for a human and a dragon," Storn informed her.
"How do you know this?" snapped the woman in the shadows.
Storn ignored her as well as she had ignored him though he heard the faint whisper of his daughter's voice as she explained.
"He loved her."
Syra's voice was low but audible. The hand on her chest curled into a fist.
"And she him."
Her eyes changed, briefly, the blue pupils becoming the slitted eyes of a dragon. The change barely lasted a second but Storn caught it, sitting back a bit in caution. Syra closed her eyes letting out a deep sigh.
"The monster that was once my brother has an entire Hold of innocent people held hostage. He controls an entire army, one he's used to attack innocents," she said. "And his biggest ally is a overgrown lizard who is suppose to devour the world."
She opened her eyes, the pupils back to normal as she stared at Storn across the fire.
"If Miraak has to die so that Steinar can fulfill his destiny and I can tear Dyre apart, then Miraak will die. And even Nithrogr cannot stop me."


(Syra)
Storn nodded in response to my words before he rose. And bit by bit the other trickled off to sleep, Brynjolf only leaving at my request. Soon it was just Serana and I. She was watching me from under her hood but I kept my eyes on the fire.
"You should get some sleep," she suggested. "I think Lilith wants to start out early tomorrow."
"You're one to talk," I retorted, kicking myself as I realized what she was.
Serana shook her head.
"Look, we're walking into a temple that no one has been in for thousands of years," Serana pointed out, tone even. "And the owner of said temple is somehow alive and able to control people enough to make them unearth it. Who knows what else he can make them do or who else is under his control."
Her logic so far was hard to argue with.
"I don't trust Steinar but I trust you," Serana went on. "And it would make me feel better to know the person I trust is alert enough to watch her own back."
I smirked.
"I can't. Sleep I mean. I'm too awake."
Passing out earlier didn't help either.
"I'm so ready to be done."
I sighed, not knowing how to elaborate.
"What's done for you?" Serana asked. "At the end of this all, where do you see yourself?"
I closed my eyes, letting my mind drift.
"I'm at Goldenglow Estate. I can finally hold a weapon again without being afraid. Can finally waste a few days just laying in the grass, knowing that nothing is going to happen. No one is coming to attack me. I'm free."
Serana was watching me, her eyes shadowed. And I knew she wished for the same thing, wanted what I wanted.
"And I want you there," I declared.
Serana seemed surprised, momentarily, before she smiled.
"I want to be there too."
There was nothing more to say but it seemed wrong to leave it at that. I opened my mouth, to say what I didn't know but was cut off as a loud roar echoed into the peace of the Great Hall. I scrambled to my feet, Serana in tow and ran outside into the snow. Lilith was on her feet, eyes on the dark sky. She'd just risen too, the indent of her knees in the snow still clearly visible.
"Dragon?" I checked and she nodded, fireballs appearing in her hands.
"Its circling back," Serana reported, probably the only one of us who could see clearly through both the snow fall and the dark.
Lilith tried following Serana's gaze but the frustration on her face told me that wasn't going well. Serana saw it as well, lightning dancing in her hands.
"Its directly above us," she informed Lilith. "And coming closer fast."
It seemed to be enough for Lilith who thrust her hands up, the fireballs turning into streams of fire. They didn't get far as they hit the dragon and, with another roar, he changed direction, zipping upwards. Serana threw her lightning then, letting it travel across his hard skin as he fled. Magically inept, I watched all this from the ground, vision enhanced by Nithrogr. The dragon flew towards Miraak's temple, landing just out of sight.
"I think Miraak knows we're here," Lilith reported. "And why."
"Then he's smarter than we thought," I replied.
"Or we're being watched," Serana suggested, her words followed by the slamming open of the Great Hall doors.
Steinar stumbled out, sword in hand, Brynjolf in tow carrying a torch.
"Dragon?" Steinar panted.
"A warning," I told him. "From your better half."
He made a face, one of loathing and resentment, or at least that's what it looked like to me, but that was it before his attention returned to the dragon.
"Where'd it go?" he asked, looking at Serana, the only one of us, I suspected, that he could tolerate.
"To the temple," she replied, nodding.
I'd have thought Steinar would sit on the knowledge and decide the best course of action to take. Instead, he took off, surprisingly fast in his heavy armor.
"This idiot," I growled, chasing after him without thinking either.
"Syra!" Lilith objected, her voice already far away.
I chose to ignore her, a choice she no doubt read in my mind and would lecture me about
later. If there was a later.


(General)
It was the action he'd been looking for. Finally a dragon he could slay. He'd been stuck in the temple with the old men so long it had begun to drive him crazy. And yeah, he felt like a part of him had been missing. It was an itch he couldn't scratch and the Greybeards didn't understand, the confusion when he brought it up evident in their faces. And as much as he didn't like the tiny halfling, he was somewhat grateful that he had answers now and angry that they'd been so easily handed over to her while being kept from him. He was the dragonborn of legend, the one sung about in songs, whispered about in stories to little Nord children as they fell asleep. He was the last and it was his destiny to slay the World Eater. Not the half pint running behind him. The snow stung at his skin as he pounded across the wooden bridge, the temple in sight now. The dragon sat atop the structure, looking down at him, amusement in its reptilian eyes. It dared mock him. He reached for his sword, his hand only just grazing the hilt when he felt it, the surge of heat that touched his back right as another dragon flew over his head. He recognized it immediately and gritted his teeth as the dragon, Nithrogr, or Syra, whatever her name was, flew at the waiting dragon. In response, his leathery wings sprang to life, lifting him into the air with surprising speed, Nithrogr following after. She was smaller, compared to him, and so faster, able to avoid his snapping gaze as he tried to catch her with his teeth. Her response was a blast of fire, her Voice deeper than he would have expected and echoing with more power. A blast of frost was her response, though the dragon clearly knew he stood no chance, even as a path of frost crisscrossed its way across Nithrogr's back as she dove for the ground. The other dragon followed and last second, right as she would have crashed, Nithrogr shot back up, leaving the other dragon to tumble to the ground, his large body sliding easily in the snow, leaving behind a muddy wake. Steinar wasted no time, hurrying to the fallen dragon that flopped just a bit. He rammed his sword into face, between its nostrils, twisting with savage determination, watching those eyes all the while. The dragon was angered by both his actions and the humiliation that came with crashing to the ground. It opened its mouth, blasting Steinar with frost. He covered his face, releasing his sword as the force behind the Shout sent him flying back. Next the dragon went for Nithrogr, fueled by its rage, its wings beating faster. Steinar shook off the Shout, waiting to see what she'd do, if she'd attack. Instead, the female dragon shrunk, body returning to that of a mortal, one that fell from the dragon's path, landing easily on one of the pillars of the temple. Confused, the dragon took a sharp right, zipping right for her.
"Move you idiot!" Steinar yelled, ignored as the Halfling braced herself, her knees locking.
The dragon was on her now, his jaw parting and his mouth snapping at her. She leapt then, grabbing the sword still embedded in the dragon's face, using it to pull herself onto his head and then onto his back, a fact he didn't like too much as he shot into the sky again, flying upside down in an attempt to shake her. Syra held on, even as the dragon landed, thrashing wildly and trying to crane his neck to snap at her. Steinar took his chance, running towards them, a shout on his lips. He was too slow though. The dragon shook Syra off, throwing her a good few feet away where she crashed into another pillar before dropping to the snow, dazed. It was those seconds that counted as the dragon closed in, only to be stopped by an imposing masked figure, the likes of which appeared out of nowhere between Syra and the dragon.
"Cease," he ordered, standing tall, voice clear even with his mask.
The dragon did not seem to like the order, looking as if he wanted to object, wanted to fight. And instead, he backed off, shaking his wings off before lifting himself into the air and away from them. Steinar watched it go, really wishing it had had the courtesy to leave his sword. Meanwhile, Syra's vision cleared and she beheld the strange man who'd saved her. Who was now facing her, standing over her.
"If I had not seen it, I would not have believed it," he whispered, offering her his hand.
She should have been suspicious, should have wondered who he was and how powerful he was to have just appeared from thin air. But she felt calm, as if at peace, taking his gloved hand. There was no warning of what he would do afterwards, pulling her to her feet and into his arms, his grip on her waist firm. Even then, she found her attention focused on his mask, his voice.
"How is it possible?" he asked. "For a dragon to live inside a mortal form?"
"Who are you?" Syra whispered, her voice unable to go higher than that octave, her mind desperately grasping at memories not her own that had the answers she sought.
Unbidden, her hand reached for the mask and he let her. Let her pull the mask away, revealing the face of a Nord, his face decorated by three scars that stretched from the bottom left side of his face, trailing through his full lips, all the way across his cheekbones and stopping just shy of his left eye, the likes of which was brown. His other eye was a deep blue. And it was with the sight of those eyes that she finally seized hold of the memory.
"Miraak," she breathed, shocked.
So this was the man they had come to kill. He lifted a hand, caressing her cheek.
"Nithrogr, I have waited so long to see you again," he informed her, his eyes seeing through her, as if he could look into her very soul.
"I came to kill you," she informed him and his faint smile did not waver.
"I was told," he admitted. "But you won't."
"How can you be so sure?" Syra demanded.
"Because the bond I shared with my mistress is a deep one. No doubt it transcends time."
He leaned in closer as he spoke and Syra could only focus on the stubble along his jawline, the same deep brown as his hair which hung long, to his shoulders and the way his chest felt beneath her hands as she rested them there, the only thing she managed to do as he kissed her. And with that, her resolved cracked, just a bit. But a bit was enough and she hated herself for realizing that, grateful when Miraak was yanked away from her, giving her room to think. Serana stood now between her and Miraak, fangs out, her eyes glowing red. Syra reached out, catching hold of the vampire's arm as Miraak returned his mask to its place on his face.
"Ah, more guests," he mused, his voice as collected as it had been when he'd ordered the dragon away.
"Are you hurt?" Serana asked, voice low and directed at Syra.
"I'm fine," Syra replied, releasing her arm, slowly.
"I am nothing if not a gracious host," Miraak went on. "I grant you safe passage into my temple. Let us see how fortified you are when the advantage is mine."
His words were followed by his disappearance, the likes of which was sudden and silent. In that silence, Syra became aware of the crunch of snow under boots as the others caught up. The others being Steinar, Lilith, Frea and Brynjolf. Her face went red as she realized that the thief had seen her kiss Miraak, his own face hurt though he approached her with a weak smirk.
"Well, lass. Never a dull moment, huh?" he joked.
"Brynjolf-" she began only to stop.
What explanation did she owe him? Really? He seemed to catch her line of thinking but said nothing.
"We should take advantage of his offer," Lilith announced. "It'll give us a chance to see what's going on inside."
"Or it could be a trap," Frea argued.
The two said more but Syra didn't listen. She was tired and cold but wide awake at the same time. And with each passing second, she became less and less sure of her resolve, wrapping her arms around herself. It wasn't just the kiss. No, the emotional rush before that as well as the crushing wave of memories Nithrogr had pumped into her mind had cracked her. Lost in thought, she didn't feel the calloused hand as it gently touched her arm but when it registered, she looked at Brynjolf. He offered her a smile before he held up a fur laced coat, like the ones she'd seen back at the Skaal village. He winked and she took it, sliding it on, the act of kindness hurting her all the same.
"Thank you," she said in a low voice.
"Frea,we're going," Lilith insisted. "This was our whole reason for even coming to this island. To find and kill Miraak. The plan doesn't change just because he knows."


(Syra)
The temple was large,imposing in the dark of the night. And there was an air of loneliness to it mixed with the bone chilling cold. I craned my neck as we trekked after Lilith, following the winding stairs inside. The temple had held up a lot better than I had thought it would, if it truly had been destroyed by dragons ages ago. Despite being in the enemy's stronghold, where who knows what kind of traps awaited us, my attention kept wandering back to Brynjolf who flanked the group. He would catch my glances and give me a wink or a smile and I'd turn back around, keeping an eye on our surroundings as we passed through what appeared to be mass tombs. I eyed the bodies stretched out on their slabs, knowing that sometimes, the dead did not stay dead.
"He can't be letting us in trap free," Serana observed, though we'd met no resistance.
So far. Lilith glanced over her shoulder.
"I only just managed to read his mind. He seemed sincere when he said we had safe passage."
"What does he expect in return?" I asked, my question meant for Lilith only.
It did not stop Steinar, who scoffed.
"From the kiss he laid on you, I can guess what he expects in return."
I glared at him, a fact that didn't seem to bother him.
"Enough, Steinar."
Brynjolf's voice was low but gruff, an edge to it. Looking back at him, I could see the irritation in his eyes as he glared at Steinar. Steinar smirked over his shoulder at the thief.
"Even you saw it. Clearly there's not much of her that can resist Miraak. Despite all her big talk."
"Are you intentionally trying to piss me off?" I snarled his way, forcing him to look back at me.
I stepped closer, trying to make myself appear bigger, even if such a thing was impossible.
"Whatever issue you may have with me, put it aside. If Miraak does harbor some feelings for the dragon in me, that can only work in our favor."
Steinar smirked at me,condescendingly.
"And what about your dragon's feelings for him?"
His eyes narrowed but his smirk remained.
"Or your feelings for him?"
"I have no feelings for him," I snapped, matching his smirking condescension with righteous anger. "Enough, both of you."
Serana stepped in, her irritation on her face.
"The two of you, standing her, arguing as if stopping him is our only mission."
She looked at Steinar.
"The faster we stop Miraak and unify your souls, the faster we stop Alduin and complete your destiny."
She looked at me next.
"Remember, Dyre has a whole city of innocents. And every passing second runs the risk that he will make a snack of them."
I nodded after a minute in surrender and Steinar took a step back. He shot me one last look before he continued on, passing Lilith. She looked at me and I could feel her in my mind, trying to find who knows what before Serana stepped between us, her presence urging the Arch Mage to keep walking. I didn't much care, turning my gaze to Brynjolf as he approached me, passing me without a glance. I watched his retreating backside, watched all of them as they continued on. I don't know why I did it, my own feelings still a mess as they drifted back, but I reached out, touching Brynjolf's hand with hesitation. There was no hope for my relationship with Steinar and on both Lilith and Serana I was unsure. Even this tangled mess of emotions Miraak stirred made me uneasy. The one relationship that I was even somewhat clear on was Brynjolf and I wanted it to last just a bit longer. I waited for a second, worried that he'd reject me and feeling such relief when his fingers intertwined with mine. His gaze stayed forward and I knew he was still not over the kiss I had with Miraak or the implications that Steinar had thrown my way. But he wasn't holding it against me. It was enough to almost warrant a smile. Almost.


(General)
If she closed her eyes, she could almost see their progress, deeper into the temple. It almost made her smile. However, she was too charged up, anxious in her excitement. And had it been up to her, she would have sprung some semblance of a trap on the party. But the temple was the one place where Miraak's control was near absolute. After so many ages within Apocrypha, he'd learned at least how to keep her from doing too much within what had once been his sanctuary.
"Priestess."
The voice whispered through her mind and she lifted her head, though her master was nowhere in sight, choosing not to manifest himself.
"Yes, my Lord?" she asked, eagerly awaiting his orders.
A single word from him and any restrictions Miraak had placed on his temple would be whisked away and she could do as she pleased. The excitement grew as she waited, surrounded by the presence of the very master that had made her whole once was a feeling of coming home and she basked in while hoping he would speak faster.
"Enter the temple and fetch me my prize," he intoned, his voice echoing in the recesses of her mind.
She wasted no time, opening her eyes, leaving the mental room in which she did her best work. Windhelm returned to her, the reeking evil the scent she loved coming back to. The touch of misery, fear and blood were nice accents. She'd been out of her own mind long, viewing the blood stained stone floor of the Palace of Kings through her mask. It was a nice touch, the congealing red a nice touch against the dull slate. Certainly better than the rug. She rose from the arm of the throne, giving the poor brainwashed Jarl a quick pat. She had no time to search for his keeper, her lord's bidding more pressing than anything. She motioned at the guard, one of the meat sacks by the door. The look of pure fear that flashed across his face was delicious, as if he was worried that this was it. That his time had come. She nearly laughed but chose not to, waiting patiently as he approached her. Her excitement had been quenched, subdued by the sense of purpose she had no that she'd been given a task. The guard now stood before her, shaking ever so slightly. And she loved it.
"I require something of you," she admitted to him, pausing to study him.
He was far too thick, too muscled to serve her purpose. But someone else had caught her mind and remained in it since she'd first entered Windhelm.
"Bring to me the beggar woman," she commanded.
"Yes ma'am."
The guard bowed, his voice flooded with relief as he nearly ran out. The Priestess was too focused on her preparations, lifting a fruit bowl from the great table and dumping it out, the fruit carelessly rolling to the floor. It would serve its purpose, she assumed, studying it. Her observation was interrupted as the guard hurried back, the beggar in tow. The Priestess smiled, the expression hidden behind her mask, the mask in the image of her master.
"Hello, beggar," she greeted, stepping forward.
Every step closer, meeting the fetched wretch halfway, made her body tingle. She was doing her master's bidding, actively again, rather than the orders from the fanged mouth of a child. And it was a refreshing change. She savored death but in her excitement, she moved fast, her long nails slicing through the soft but weathered throat of the poor woman before she could fully process what she was doing. Her other hand brought the bowl forth, catching the fresh blood, at least until the beggar's stunned body got the idea, falling to the floor at the horrified guard's feet. She didn't waste her time, turning with her bowl of gathered blood, retreating back to the arm of the throne that she'd laid claimed to and sitting. Slowly, she ran one finger through the blood, not allowing herself to be distracted admiring the color, intoning the words needed to return to the almost godlike state of being she would need to enter Miraak's temple without leaving Windhelm. The blood responded to her influence, following the path her finger made for it. It took a bit longer than she liked, the beggar's blood not as magically inclined as the court's wizard had been, but finally she felt it start to work, her body separate from that of her soul, of her astral being. And with that done, she was free to carry on her mission.


(Syra)
I didn't fail to notice the cultists, how they watched us, their masks hiding the fact that their eyes followed us. But I got the feeling.
"Creepy, aren't they?" Brynjolf remarked.
"Understatement," Lilith said as Steinar snorted.
Serana didn't respond, choosing instead to pull her hood over her head. I chose to not say a word, wondering instead how much further we'd have to walk. And what would happen once we got there. What trap Miraak would spring.
"Look."
Lilith's voice was a whisper as she stopped and indeed we all looked, beholding the approaching cultist. Underneath the stocky armor, the woman's curves were nearly obscured but there was no hiding the feminine walk, the likes of which one would need to possess curves for in the first place, hidden or not. There was a near ethereal feel to her and my eyes narrowed, the dragon in me stirred. Lilith seemed on edge too, tensing when the cultist stopped before us, holding a covered item in her hands. Her fellow cultists were watching her now, their heads turned, as if her approach was a surprise to them as well. "Something's not right," I said, my voice an uncertain whisper.
I gripped Brynjolf's hand tighter as an ominous feeling took hold. Something in me didn't want her uncovering whatever it was she held. It was the source of the wrongness in the room, twisting and corrupting the air and , by extension, us as well.
"Welcome, Dragonborns," the cultist said, her voice filled with dark glee.
"That voice-" Lilith began as the woman lifted the corner of the cloth.
"No!" I objected, the outburst instinctual as I lunged forward.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Steinar move too and in this we were in perfect sync though neither of us was fast enough. The cloth slipped away, revealing a black book. As fast as she'd dropped the cloth, the cultist opened the book, turning it towards Steinar and I, tentacles shooting out, wrapping around us.
"Syra!" Lilith cried and I felt her seize my waist.
Glancing at Steinar, I saw Serana and Brynjolf pulling at him. Despite their best efforts, though, the book was slowly pulling us away from them, the tentacles tightening. The sensation was less physical though and more as if the clammy arm had burrowed in, resting on my soul. Steinar grunted in pain, his hefty body collapsing, his eyes glazed over as what could only be his soul was yanked into the book. "No," I cried, reaching out as if I could catch what was already gone.
It did nothing for my cause as the tentacles that had just deposited Steinar snapped back for me, curling around my arm, pulling with more force. The ripping sensation tore a scream from me as I too was yanked from my body, the book's pages the last thing I was aware of before complete and utter dark.
LAST EDIT! And then we pick up where I left us off MONTHS ago which I am sorry for.  I so badly want to do more with the Skaal and their village. Its one of my favorite places and I so badly wished you could choose to live there. Though, given Syra's hatred of the cold, I doubt she'd want to.
That being said I hate the island of Solstheim...mostly because I can't spell it right to save my life half the time. I also hate this new trend of calling Paarthurnax (another name I cannot spell allthe time) PaartySnax....NO...no me gusta.
© 2016 - 2024 Blacknightmarerose
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