Various Tales from The Elder Scrolls (AU)

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The dragons lingered upon Nirn in an incomprehensible slumber. Dead were they to the mortal races, dead to the flow of time, and the heroes who slew them had long ago passed beyond to Aetherius.

Although they were forgotten on Tamriel and lost to the hearts and minds of men, they were all but truly gone.
No breath filled their lungs, they did not stir, but their dormant souls awaited when again they would be called back to the land of the living-- to emerge from their mounds and wreak havoc upon the mortal races who cast them down into the bowels of the earth.

That time for which they had waited so long was now. Their lord had returned in all his fury from whence he was cast with the Elder Scroll so long ago; and he would summon them out of their death-sleep, to at last fulfill dragonkinds' vengeance on the children of Skyrim.

×××

A dragon mound lay forgotten in the vast expanse of Skyrim's wilds. None dare adventure so far as to discover where it lay, and none recalled its existence. As time had passed, the ancient burial site became lost beneath the grass and ivy, creep clusters and mountain flowers grew undisturbed around the stone structure that had since fallen into ruin. The bones laid within the ground were as nameless and unremembered as any other, until the day they were called forth again.

The sky grew grey with dark storm clouds swirling overhead, thunder growled and lightning flickered in the shifting expanse of the sky. The flowers shuddered in the cold wind as it howled through the ancient stone. Alduin descended from the tumultuous skies, the shadow of his grand form cast itself over the mound.

"Vulsiklok, ziil gro dovah ulse!" the black dragon shouted, "Slen Tiid Vo!"

The earth and stone of the shallow grave sundered in an instant, bones that had rested for millennia burst from the rubble, becoming wrapped in flesh and scales once more.

"Alduin, dii In! How much time has passed?" the newly awoken dragon croaked, looking up at the dark shape above him.

"Ages, ages spent contriving a worthy punishment for the frail loyalty of mankind," Alduin replied, settling on the ground with a gust of wind.

Vulsiklok looked around, he did not know this place, the trees and the rubble were unfamiliar, and the plains certainly had changed within the passage of ages lost. Last he remembered the mountains had been aflame, the scent of blood, smoke and steel mingling in the air as the last battle he had fought raged between the dragons and those who rebelled against their might.
How peaceful the world looked now! No longer was it charred and scattered with lifeless bodies as it had been; it had healed from the ancient struggle.

"Do they live in drem without us?" Vulsiklok asked, overlooking the landscape, "Did they grow slow and dull-eyed in our absence?"

"Nii los ni ful! They bicker amongst themselves," Alduin scoffed, "Yet, they will fall without defiance. Kinboknu tul ukuz, niist haal fen motaad."

"Then what would you have me do, Thuri?"

"Jul are fickle creature, we give to them the punishment worthy of their ignorance and betrayal, Dinok. Death, as they once gave to the Dov," the great black dragon answered spreading his wings, "Nahkriin engein wah mii."

"So it will be, dii In."

Vulsiklok watched as Alduin ascended swiftly into the storm and vanished from view. The clouds grew smooth and rain began to fall as the thunder rumbled in the distance.

Ages indeed had passed, as Alduin said. If Vulsiklok had lived through them, perhaps he would not have noticed the changes, it would have all happened so gradually to him; but he had not watched the world shift and rebuild, everything had gone on without him, without the dragons.
Vulsiklok took to the skies, rain streaming over his scales as he took in this new Skyrim beneath his wings. Rivers had made themselves new courses, hills were beaten down and valleys hollowed out, forests had sprung up where plains had been, and the old forests had died away, leaving nothing but grass or snow. He barely recognized any of it. Only the mountains seemed to have remained almost exactly as they were, and the Monahven, with its peak cloaked in the storm, stood just as he had remembered it.

As much as he wished to visit the one landmark seemingly unchanged by time, Vulsiklok continued to wander in flight over the expanse of Keizaal. He followed the storm as it rolled south-westward. The world below was green with grass and speckled with flowers, in the distance the land climbed into snow and stone. So strange, so much more beautiful than the world he had been taken away from.

Soon he could see a city in the distance. A city of men, filled with the descendants of his slayers. Animosity swelled inside him, Alduin's words burning in his mind, vengeance was theirs, mankind would fall trembling, without defiance.

Vulsiklok descended on Whiterun with a roar, watching the people gathered in the Plain District scatter before him, abandoning their marketplace stalls. The guards challenged him with meager weapons and strong language, but he could have laughed them all off. What a thrill to watch men fear him again as they once did long ago!

The dragon snapped his jaws at those who came at him with their swords, speaking fire and ice into the streets of the Hold. Their arrows barely scathed him, and their threats did not so much as reach him. He took flight and landed on top of the Temple of Kynareth, proud of the power he yet had over these frail beings, though long he had been laid dormant by their blades. He would not again be reduced to a bloodied corpse by mortal steel, the dragons would be Nirn's masters once again.

The ancient wounds inflicted on Tamriel would be split open again.
Dragons and mortals who opposed them would war again.
The mountains would catch fire again.
The earth would change, again.

Vulsiklok reeled back as an arrow pierced his scaly hide, he hissed in pain and anger. The city was in pandemonium around him, where he spoke his Thu'um, ruin followed. Was revenge worth the world becoming unrecognizable again? What was a worthy price for his pain and mankind's rebellion? Was it not the rite of a strong slave to throw off the binds of a ruthless master?
The dragon snarled and struck an attacking guard with his tail, throwing the man the ground, then took off like a bolt of lightning, vanishing into the sky with another earth-shaking roar. He flew as far as he could from Whiterun, overcome with rage and confusion.

Vulsiklok settled down by a spring far from any sight of men, pulling the arrows from his hide and cursing the bow that gave them flight. Had he lost his steel nerve? Had all that time lying in death-sleep caused him to become one slow and dull-eyed? Alduin would rightfully have his throat torn out for such cowardice.
That city should have been left in ashes, its inhabitants frozen like statues in their tracks; but no, he had fled. Perhaps he was not even worthy to enact the vengeance Alduin had promised the Dov.

The dragon laid down next to the water, wishing the grass was tall enough to hide him and his shame. What dovah feared change? Who amongst the Dov cared if the world reshaped itself in their absence? Was not the world theirs to take and do as they wished with? He no longer knew; but to set the fields and forests of this new Keizaal alight to him would be a disgrace, for Kyne had healed the ground from their war. A war which Alduin wished to start anew, and for what? The ancient Nord heroes were long since dead, even those who struck him and his brothers down had passed out of Mundus ages before.
Power and control over all of Tamriel would have been meaningless to him if Skyrim were reduced to rubble and corpses.

"If the Jul be strong enough to throw off their binds, let them do so, I care not," Vulsiklok snarled, though no one was there to hear, "Nahkriin is senseless when Nirn does not remember the crime."

He turned his eyes to the Monahven, which men called the Throat of the World, perhaps seeing something unchanged through the long ages would ease his turmoil. There might be something for him in this new world yet, he thought, even if it would not involve Alduin's own will.
Dovah were proud creatures after all, why should they follow only the strongest among them and fear their deaths? They should take for themselves their Destiny and use it as they choose, not as another chooses for them.

Towards the great mountain he soared. Let Alduin tear out his throat, he felt he would die something greater than another pawn in the wild games of his kind. Alduin could not truly assure such a victory as he claimed, the Dov were cast down once, why not again? Why take the chance of failure when Keizaal was large and its unsettled lands vast?

"Let the others do as they see fit," Vulsiklok said to himself, "Zu'u fen kuz dii meyar ven."

I will take my own path.