Dragonspeech bolded as usual in speech, most of this is suppose to be read as if it was in dovahzhul as it is Alduin's thoughts. I'm gonna try to show the main storyline through Alduin's perspective rather than the DB. I will eventually deviate from the lore cause I kinda have too for smut to occur, but for now enjoy! We'll see how far I can take it lol I also don't have a title for this so just calling it Alduin... not very original I know lol
Comments are love!
Comments are life!
1
What was Time? Mortals and immortals alike have different concepts of it, yet it is the same for both. It is unchanging in the grand design that is life. A bug's life measured in the breath of a man's, while a dragon could sleep the life expectancy of same said man.
The abyss in which Time ceases, the very chasm in which he found himself, surrounded on all sides by a black void. This was a place without light, normal or abnormal. The Thu'um would light nothing but him for there was nothing here. This was where he was sent. A prison from which there was no escape. There was no portals to be created here for him to leave. His powers were for naught.
The Elder Scrolls were powerful. A force that was never meant to be seen, much less used, by the mortal coil. He would have to ensure when he returned, to collect all the Elder Scrolls and bring them to his realm where they would remain for eternity.
He relaxed his entire body, stretching his wings out and folded them in on his claws. He deliberately dropped his body onto his lower legs until his belly touched the same substance he stood upon. He curled his tail and lowered his horned head.
The World Eater closed his ruby red eyes. There was only one thing to do in the tear of Time, his breathing eased and his heartbeat slowed.
Sleep.
************
A tear.
Red eyes slitted open in the darkness as the sound echoed.
He raised his head as the ripping noise came again. Followed by another, longer sound and his eyes zeroed in on the black hole slowly forming in the distance. He shifts and moves first time since his arrival. His advancement towards the tear is slow and methodical, like everything else about him.
There was no hesitation as ancient muscles bunch beneath his scales, his heavy heart pumping nourishing blood through his starved limbs. Massive wings unfurl, the leathery sounds of the membranes echoing in the silence. Overly muscular rear legs spread to support his weight for him to stand.
A deep inhale, humongous lungs expand, he salivates uncontrollably standing there in the shadow of the disruption. A roar so loud, and so long blasts from his throat, it would have been deafening to mortals and immortals alike.
His bulk fits through the rift perfectly and falls. Falls through space and Time, he knows this feeling well. He had been born this way, falling from his father's hands through all the realms created and not-yet-created. Harvesting his powers from each Plane of existence until reaching his zenith.
Breach.
Wings large enough to block out the sun catch his bulk as he crashes through the sky of Skyrim atop the Throat of the World, the very place he was banished from originally. The tip of the mountain rushes towards him, ready to impale him. He roars again, this time it is heard by all. His great wings flap against the air and he slows his fall down to a glide.
He avoids the tip, and tilts his massive body to the side, circling the mountain, in an ever downward spiral.
Multiple millennia has passed since he's soared these skies. His senses are assaulted on all sides at what has become of his kingdom, his people. He senses no dragon. Not on Skyrim. Except...
Dragonborn.
Another full circle brings to him a human construct, a village. A city and a dragon in human form. A dovah was there. He opens his jaws, feeling smoke escaping from between his teeth. He calls. Shouting towards the city, seeking an answer, waiting.
Nothing. No answer.
He dives towards the city. He can see a procession, prisoners on carts and wagons. An axe reflects the sunlight and a head rolls into a dirty basket. He watches the soul depart for Sovngarde. He can see the magical auras that cover the people outside, telling him everything he needs to know about those below.
He roars again as he watches the Dragonborn shoved forward, towards the bucket. The white light surrounding them was almost blinding, a beacon for dragons, proclaiming to him and his that a dragon lived within this body. That he is ignored does not go unnoticed, and wrath stirs. There was a Time when his voice, however distant, would have been recognized and feared.
Skyrim is his. His presence needed to be felt again.
He landed on the building right over the Dragonborn. He wanted a good, long look at the last of his kin in this barren land. That they were about to be executed begged the question of how they managed to find themselves on the wrong side of an axe. They, whom could overpower almost any force, including the very dragons he ruled.
The white light that was the Dragonborn also shows him a being adept at magic and melee. A small warrior able to adapt to all forms of combat with no real fear. Not even death, for even now, their was head pushed into fresh blood from previous prisoner. They do not stink of fear. Only when they make eye contact, does the light quiver and vibrates nervously.
A worthy dovah.
Dragons were not executed though. This was the end of this construct. Never again would they have the capabilities of holding a dov captive. He would see to it. The World Eater unleashed his powers. Opening the skies so that the flamings rocks he called from space could pepper the ground brutally with ease. The sky turned the same colour as an Oblivion gate, which was what he was doing essentially for the meteors came from another part of the vast universe.
He spared no one.
And while it rained meteors, he burned the rest. Turning humans into piles of ash and bones. The corpses were outnumbering the living and he torched a house at the same time he used his tail to smash a tower of stone down. The humans defended their dwellings but not for long. He was too powerful. Arrows and swords could not penetrate his scales, his hide was too thick.
He lost count of the amount of soldiers he swallowed whole. He could feel them fighting their way down his gullet, kicking and punching. He enjoyed feeling them struggle until they died in his stomach, melted and absorbed. He would expel their armours later, melted into unrecognized hunks of metal.
The last meteor hit a large tower, leveling it completely, the entire place surrounded by heavy clouds of dust and smoke. The air was heavy with the smell of burning wood and flesh. The flames roared unchecked, moving over everything, feeding itself. In the midst of it all, Alduin stood, large and imposing. He stepped on a fallen tower and Shouted his return.
The Dragonborn had escaped underground and he had allowed it. He had waited for the white light to vanish within to release the full extent of his powers. They would meet again. There was no stopping that from happening either for a dragon was within the human. Allegiance was owed, and a throat needed to be bared.
He scanned the ruins that were once Helgen, looking for signs of life. He stood silent and unmoving for a long time before finally opening his wings and taking flight. He roared as he made for his Skyrim home, Skuldafn, gliding on black wings of death.
There was an army to raise.
