The wolf and the lioness - The End of the World. (Patreon)

Aegon Targaryen, Throat of the World – Skyrim.

The fall was harsh, a blow that left him breathless, in the cold snow, which soaked his face and soothed the sensation of his aching body.

“Oh shit,” said Aegon with a sigh, as he turned his tired body, still panting, completely exhausted from the experience in the Soul Cairn.

“Are you… are you alright?” asked Serana at his side, who had sat down in the cold snow, while her mother struggled to stand behind her, looking toward the sky, toward the moon and the northern lights of Skyrim.

“Yes, everything… everything’s fine,” said Aegon, making a grimace of discomfort.

The young dragon stood up slowly, catching his breath as he looked around.

He was in Skyrim, of that he had no doubt, the sky, the fresh air and the stars above made that quite clear.

However, he was not in any known place, the air was freezing, even by Skyrim standards, the sky was illuminated with extreme clarity, without human interference.

So Aegon deduced that they were in a place of great altitude.

“At the highest point in Tamriel, to be precise, the domain of our kind, the Dovah,” said an ancient voice, filled with a power so overwhelming that, just hearing it, Aegon could not help but shiver.

Looking up, the Winter Lord swallowed as he beheld the imposing presence before him, it was a Dovah, but an old one, ancient even, wise and evidently powerful.

It looked at him with an expression that, being honest, Aegon never thought he would see in one of his kind, there was intelligence, compassion, curiosity… and regret in those imposing eyes.

“Uhhh… I don’t think we know each other,” said the Winter Lord calmly, while trying to recover his breath in case he had to defend himself, although something told him that the imposing Dovah was not a threat.

To be honest, Aegon expected… many things, threats, lectures or even an attack, however, the Dovah in question, to his surprise, did not seem to have any intention of attacking him.

But rather… to talk.

“You arrive sooner than I expected, Dov,” said the imposing being, resting calmly upon an enormous and ancient Word Wall, completely at ease.

Aegon raised an eyebrow in disbelief at those words, and could not help but ask.

“Do we know each other?” the imposing being spoke to him as if they did, something truly strange.

The imposing being laughed softly, a guttural, rough and deep sound, his powerful voice made the skies tremble with alarming ease, revealing the nature of his monstrous power.

The Thu’um of this Dovah was truly powerful, more powerful than any other he had encountered, that was evident.

“Silence, Dov, and witness with me the freedom of one of our brothers!” said the ancient dragon, his eyes focused on the sky, where, to Aegon’s surprise, the dragon that had been trapped in the Soul Cairn could be seen, its body slowly unraveling into particles of magic, leaving behind a trail of beautiful stardust until it simply vanished without a trace.

No bones, no scales, nothing at all.

“Curious, I had never seen bones and scales disappear,” said Aegon cautiously, his gaze still on the sky.

“The circumstances of our brother are quite different, he has returned to Aetherium, with our Arhk, Akatosh.”

And after those words, the imposing being turned his head, looking directly at Aegon.

“However, that is not relevant at this moment, but rather our meeting,” said the imposing being, as he descended from the great wall where he rested, walking in a non-threatening manner toward Aegon and his two companions.

“Drem Yol Lok, my brother, let us greet, as only the Dovah understand,” said the imposing being.

With confusion on his face, Aegon asked.

“A greeting?”

He wondered if the immense being expected a bow or something similar.

At his side, Serana and Valerica stepped away slightly from the intimate exchange, making it clear that the imposing beast had no interest in them.

The dragon laughed again, like an elder amused by the foolishness of a child, and replied.

“Your voice, your Thu’um.”

The immense being straightened and, pointing its massive snout toward the Word Wall, roared.

“YOL TOOR SHUL!”

Bathing the ancient stone in powerful flames, far greater and more intense than those of any dragon Aegon had faced before.

The voracious fire had a special effect, causing all the words of power engraved in the stone to glow brightly, revealing their divine nature.

Faced with that display of power, Aegon understood what the imposing Dovah meant.

Children of Akatosh, beings of immense power, with a dominant nature, could only greet each other in one particular way.

So Aegon looked directly at the ancient dragon and inhaled deeply, preparing his voice.

“YOL TOOR SHUL!”

He roared, unleashing a torrent of powerful flames directly toward the dragon’s body, wrapping around its scales like a comfortable mantle of fire.

“Ah… there it is, your Thu’um is strong, Dovahkiin, as is your power.”

Aegon nodded once, a sign of respect, not submission, an act that pleased the imposing dragon.

“I suppose our arrival to this place was not a coincidence, of all the places we could have appeared upon returning to Nirn, I imagine this is the most symbolic,” said the young dragon, making the imposing being nod slowly.

“Yes, your actions in the Soul Cairn had… more relevance than you can imagine, but that is not important at this moment, not now, when the World-Eater looms over us.”

Those words made Aegon frown, for a moment, he had forgotten about that damn problem.

Between Ulfric’s stupidity, the threat of Serana’s father and the damned mythical dragon of the end of times threatening reality itself, Aegon felt like he would go bald from frustration.

The Winter Lord sighed heavily, looking at the imposing Dovah and saying.

“I’m Aegon, by the way,” he said with a tired smile.

The dragon nodded with elegance and replied.

“Drem Yol Lok, Aegon, I am Paarthurnax,” the courtesy in his tone more than evident, something quite strange for Aegon, considering the aggressive nature of the Dovah in general.

“You said we had a conversation pending, and if the Aedra have brought me to this place, then it must be important, let’s speak then, Zeymahzin,” said Aegon, his face serene and his gray eyes filled with determination.

Without knowing that everything he understood about the world was about to change.

Forever.

Cirilla Targaryen, Markarth.

“RAAAAAAGHH!” roared the former prisoner with fury, as he beheaded the arrogant Silver-Blood with a single swing of his axe, only to roar in triumph an instant later.

“Well, that was… more anticlimactic than I expected,” said Jarl Igmund, frowning as he watched the lifeless body and the traitor’s head roll across the halls of his fortress.

Around them, several guards were kneeling, completely subdued and disarmed, all of them the corrupt idiots who had been wreaking havoc in the city and causing problems between Igmund and the Forsworn.

Ciri stepped forward with determination, her presence filled with authority as representative of both her husband and Elisif, looking directly at both the Jarl and the now freed tribal leader.

“Justice has been served, the armistice has been created, a bilateral non-aggression agreement, the Nords will not attack the Forsworn, and they will respond with the same courtesy, if any group or individual breaks the agreement, they will be judged and executed by the opposing leader,” said Ciri firmly.

Both leaders remained serious, but both nodded, giving validity to the oath of non-aggression.

Ciri was not sure how long the ceasefire between these two would last, but she hoped it would be long enough until Ulfric was dead.

By that point, both she and her husband would be far from this Tamriel.

The Forsworn chief withdrew with his people peacefully, escorted by a regiment of guards, leaving Ciri alone with the Jarl, who simply sighed heavily and rubbed his face.

“I suppose you will return to Solitude, my Lady,” said Igmund, making Ciri nod slowly.

“Yes, my husband must be concerned about the massacre in Falkreath and I must coordinate with Elisif an offensive against the vampires responsible, an overwhelming and decisive response, we cannot afford to be distracted any longer than necessary, we have Ulfric against the ropes,” said the beautiful warrior, making the Jarl nod, stand up and strike his chest in a sign of respect.

“Those blood-sucking demons massacred my people, good men and women, thanks to them, I have widows, widowers and orphans in my city, may the fury of Talos fall upon them, the axes and swords of Markarth are at your disposal,” said the Jarl.

Ciri nodded, about to respond, when it happened.

The voice of her beloved husband, powerful, fierce and terrifying.

“JOOR ZAH FRUL!”

The power behind the shout was such that the entire cave, the palace and the city were shaken.

“What the hell was that?” asked the terrified Jarl, looking toward the exit of the fortress, concern more than evident on his face.

“That… that was my husband,” said Ciri with concern, as she and the Jarl exited the cave.

And what they saw… froze the blood in both of them.

“Oh shit,” said the Jarl, and Ciri could only agree with him.

Oh shit indeed.

A devastating storm struck the entire hold, with lightning so massive that they shook the earth when they hit the ground, all the people of the city ran to seek shelter from the powerful winds, which did not seem like they would stop anytime soon.

And everything seemed to come from the Throat of the World.

“SLEN TIID VO!”

Another Thu’um, different from her beloved husband’s voice, more guttural, filled with malice and a simply overwhelming power shook the land and caused the damn sky to split open, unleashing a fucking rain of meteors that began to fall across the entire hold.

The heavens themselves seemed to fracture under the force of that voice, as if reality struggled to contain what had just been unleashed.

A second later, Jon’s voice was heard again, powerful, furious and terrifying, shaking the skies of Skyrim entirely and forcing reality itself to obey.

Seconds later, the dark voice responded and her husband did not take long to answer after that.

Even leagues away, the colossal power of Jon’s Thu’um resonated everywhere, it was like a conversation between beings capable of bending reality at will.

The princess of Cintra had not the slightest idea what was happening, but it was evident that her beloved husband was fighting something, and it was her duty to be at his side to face it.

With urgency and decision, Ciri looked at the Jarl and ordered.

“I need a horse, the fastest you have,” said the princess, her face filled with determination and concern.

Her man needed her, and she would be there for him.

In the good and in the bad.

Serana Volkihar, a few moments before, the Throat of the World – Skyrim.

The ancient dragon, Paarthurnax, was the leader of the Greybeards and a master of the Thu’um.

And by the Nine, how he liked to talk, thought the vampire, listening as the old dragon chatted with Jon about crazy arcane theories and projects that Serana did not truly understand.

Her mother, Valerica, observed the interaction in disbelief, more fitting of a scholar than of the fierce warrior she had seen challenge and defeat the Ideal Masters of the Soul Cairn.

At this moment, Jon was speaking about his own arcane theories, about some Thu’um he had designed on his own and philosophy, it was like watching two scholars discussing topics that most of Tamriel would never be able to comprehend in their lives.

The conversation remained pleasant for quite a while, until both touched on the important matter at hand.

Alduin.

Just the name of the beast was… imposing to say the least, Jon frowned with fury and his eyes filled with hatred just by mentioning it.

“I cannot find a way to fight him while he is in the air, there is no way I can fight on equal terms,” Jon confessed, the frustration more than evident in his voice.

“Is there any way to prevent a Dovah from flying?” asked the Winter Lord with certainty, and Serana observed shrewdly how the ancient dragon seemed to… hesitate at Jon’s precise question.

“There is, but… it is not something I can teach you, there exists a Thu’um, lost to time, created by humans, aberrant words, a heresy for the Dovah, Dragonrend,” said the immense being, who seemed to shudder at the mere mention of those words.

“Dragonrend? That sounds… terrible, for you I mean,” said Serana quickly, noticing that her words had drawn the attention of the immense being.

“It is, an abominable Thu’um, created by humans to weaken the Dovah, words of power that strike directly at what is most sacred to us, the soul.”

Jon simply frowned, lost in his thoughts.

“That… sounds dangerous,” he said, earning an approving look from the ancient dragon.

“Good, that you think that way soothes my old scales, Dragonrend is, indeed, a monstrously powerful Thu’um, but equally dangerous, and no, I cannot teach it to you, you must learn it yourself, from its original creators,” said the dragon, looking at Jon expectantly, as if his words had given him the clue he needed.

And his dear Jon, once again, proved how brilliant he was, catching it almost instantly.

“The Scroll, you want me to use the power of the Scroll to learn this Dragonrend,” he stated, looking seriously at Paarthurnax.

The immense dragon did not respond, he simply looked at Jon with complete calm, who simply sighed and summoned the Scroll from his enchanted pouch.

The one that, according to what he had told her, he had found lost in some ancient Dwemer ruins.

“Are you sure about this, Jon? That thing… is dangerous,” said the vampire, clearly worried for her man.

Jon looked at her with a soft smile, while Paarthurnax responded.

“Dangerous, yes, for a human, but you are a Dovah, like me, you possess the blood of the dragon, if you wish to learn the Thu’um, you already know what to do,” said the ancient one.

Serana watched as Jon inhaled deeply to calm his nerves, took the Scroll and, gathering his courage, opened it.

The monstrous power of the object manifested as a wave of invisible magic that rapidly spread across the mountain, at the same time Jon’s eyes turned completely transparent, shining like diamonds, his body was entirely paralyzed and inert, as if… frozen in time, for lack of a more precise word.

“Is he alright?” asked Serana, unable to contain herself at the sight of Jon’s condition.

The immense dragon nodded calmly.

“He is, the Kel are powerful and complex, for us it may be an instant, but for him… it could be years or even decades.”

“And where exactly is he?” asked Lady Valerica, looking with fascination at the motionless Jon.

“It is impossible to know, he could be at the beginning of time or at the end, here in Skyrim or hundreds of leagues away, with the Kel it is impossible to know,” said the dragon in his characteristic wise tone.

Serana looked with disbelief at the casual tone the dragon had used, and was about to respond, when the calm of the moment was interrupted by a powerful flap of wings.

At the same time that a massive figure, with black scales and red eyes descended from the skies, roaring in fury, its gaze focused directly on the other dragon.

“Fen hin sahrot nid wahsti, zeymah,” said the imposing black-scaled beast, making the green-scaled elder roar fiercely back at him, his powerful fangs fully exposed, more than ready to fight.

“Nid fen sahrot do hin, Alduin. Voth!” roared back the emerald-scaled dragon.

“Serana, we must leave, now,” said Lady Valerica, watching cautiously as both beasts prepared to fight.

However… just as the black beast lunged toward the peak of the mountain…

Jon awakened.

His eyes returned to normal, with a furious expression, more furious than Serana had ever seen.

His gaze locked onto the imposing black-scaled colossus and the Winter Lord roared.

“JOOR ZAH FRUL!”

Serana covered her ears as she heard the unbearable screech that emerged from Jon’s mouth, at the same time that a wave of blue magic erupted from his throat and struck the entire body of the black beast.

Alduin fell upon the summit of the mountain with a scream of agony, crashing violently against the rocks, clearly disoriented.

But Jon gave no respite, he simply walked calmly toward the World-Eater and roared.

“MUL QAH DIIV!”

And Nirn obeyed.

A spectral armor of pure magic manifested around Jon, draconic in appearance and radiating a power so overwhelming that Serana and Valerica were completely frozen in place.

Jon looked like a dragon incarnate, his face, unmistakably furious.

“Let’s finish this,” he said, opening his mouth and preparing another Thu’um, at the same time that Alduin did the same.

And when the two voices clashed…

Nirn trembled.

The world itself seemed to hold its breath for a fraction of a second, as if even reality understood the magnitude of what had just begun.

This was only the beginning.