Alduin Unbound

I'm back.

Chapter 7- Clean Slate

By the pricking
Of my thumbs
Something wicked
This way comes

William Shakespeare- Macbeth

It was truly an amazing time. In the space of minutes, the hopes and dreams and fears of two worlds moved inexorably closer to fulfillment. To recap:

The Elements of Harmony had finished bonding with their chosen wielders.

Princess Celestia, accompanied by her most trusted subjects, was attempting to locate these chosen ponies.

Twilight Sparkle had unwittingly resuscitated a world-devouring dragon god.

Akatosh was frantically and unsuccessfully attempting to salvage an otherwise disastrous situation.

Alduin was trying to kill everything in sight.

Sheogorath… was just being himself.

But few ponies were aware of these events, much less their future consequences. Indeed, most ponies had little difficulty recovering from the initial shock of the Sonic Rainboom. Despite an abundance of shattered windows and frazzled nerves, the majority of Equestrians simply cleaned up the damage and resumed their daily routines.

The citizens of Canterlot, however, quickly realized that something significant was occurring. For them, the moments after that rainbow-colored ring faded from the sky were like a surreal dream. Or a nightmare.

Before anypony had a chance to catch their breath, they began to feel a charge in the air. Hair and fur stood on end, and the sudden tang of ozone filled their nostrils, the scent thickening as a shrill buzz grew louder and louder. At the School for Gifted Unicorns, nearby spectators watched in dread fascination while beams of light shot up from the roof and into the sky, their vision dazzled when every window flashed with light and the top of the building exploded in a shower of debris.

Silence filled the streets, ponies staring as splinters of wood and chunks of stone landed around them. Most were too stunned to move. Others seemed to be waiting, afraid of what might happen next.

Then they heard it. A deep, crescendoing sound that rumbled out of the ruined structure, one that any pony instinctively feared.

The roar of something massive, something predatory, something enraged.

Ponies young and old froze in their tracks, hearts pounding with fright. Civilized equines, they had never encountered a situation such as this, and so they were rooted to the spot, even as every fiber of the bodies yearned to flee and escape this unseen menace.

Another roar sounded out, and their paralysis broke.

The entire city lurched into motion as ponies scrambled in every direction, ducking into stores and crowding into restaurants in their desire to hide themselves. But even off the streets, their relief was short-lived.

They heard the boom of colossal feet against stone and a voice faintly yelling in a foreign tongue. Curious, some of the braver ponies peeked out of doorways and windows.

A light flared from the school, accompanied by the shrieking howl of a magical blast. There was a terrible crash, and some observers could swear they saw the entire building shake. Then the roar came again, louder and filled with anger.

Panicked, the ponies barricaded doors and covered windows before huddling in corners or under desks, holding one another close as the noise built into a horrific cacophony.

A flurry of harsh, piercing cracks that sounded like breaking glass.

An agonized shriek and an echoing thud.

The voice, screaming loudly enough to be heard from Tartarus itself.

A sputtering trill that was swallowed up by a final, triumphant roar.

And then silence.

One by one, doors and windows cracked open as ponies looked up at the ominously quiet school. Bewildered, they turned to one another for confirmation. What had happened? What was making those sounds? And most importantly, where did it go? With no forthcoming explanation, they emerged from their impromptu shelters, unaware that the worst was yet to come.

“Strun… BAH QO!”

The shout was thunderous, seeming to echo off the mountainside and between buildings as it pummeled the eardrums of the terrified ponies. It was enough to send a few galloping back inside, but most were too busy looking at the sky in amazement.

The air surrounding the school heated immediately, the rising updraft forming a massive, anvil-shaped cloud that climbed higher and higher until it piled up at the very roof of the world. Within moments, the supercell was large enough to cover the entire mountain, blanketing Canterlot in shadow as the air pressure dropped steadily lower.

The black clouds at the base of the storm began to thicken, swelling up until they looked almost ready to burst. A few drops of rain plopped harmlessly down on the streets and ponies.

Then a blinding flash lit the sky as several bolts of lightning arced through the clouds. And just as if they had been split, the clouds opened and the rain came rushing down.

What had once been a shower turned into a massive downpour. Hard, pounding drops stuck with the force of hailstones, causing the ponies to immediately rush back into their previous shelters. Lightning tore through the curtains of rain, and thunder boomed around them like a stallion’s hooves slamming against a steel drum. But gradually, a new sound rose through the rain and the thunder. A pony’s voice.

Peering out into the storm, they could see a pegasus pony racing down the streets, pounding on doors and yelling into windows.

“Are there any pegasi in there?! I need every able-bodied pegasus out here, now!”

As he drew closer, they recognized his voice and sand-colored coat. It was Stillwater, but what surprised them most was the tone of his voice. The normally stolid councilor seemed on the verge of panic.

Desperate for an explanation to these events, the ponies crowded back into the street, peppering the stallion with questions.

As though he was afraid of being blocked by the crowd, Stillwater gave a pump of his wings and took to the air. “We don’t have time for this,” he yelled over the rising wind. “Every earth and unicorn pony needs to get to shelter before this storm gets worse!”

Stunned by his ferocity, the flightless ponies drew back, allowing the pegasi to move closer. Satisfied, Stillwater alighted on the street and motioned at the towering mass of clouds with his hoof.

“Listen close! We need to break this storm up while there’s still time! Anyone with weather control experience is with me! We’ll be near the ground hitting the wall cloud as a delaying action. The rest of you, get as high as you can! If you can kick through the anvil and get to the boundary layer, we might have a chance at venting the updrafts before-”

The flat moaning of wind rose to an unearthly wail as a dark funnel-shaped cloud descended rapidly out of the thunderstorm. The ponies watched in horror as it sidewinded downwards, growing into a massive black wedge before slamming into the ground.

Right on top of the School for Gifted Unicorns.

There was a loud rush of air, and then winds were sweeping down the streets, flinging objects into building as the tornado tore apart any nearby structures.

Stillwater cursed and took to the air, bellowing at the awestruck ponies. “All of you that can’t fly get inside now! The rest of you, follow me!”

The pegasi flew after him as the others ducked back into their shelters. With no time to evacuate, they could only hunker down and pray for a miracle.

It was a mistake to meet that blast head-on.

The flickering sphere of red light that leapt from the staff was miniscule, feeble. Nothing in comparison to the earth-rending attacks that he had previously overcome. Certainly nothing that he should fear.

But deep down, buried beneath his instinctive fury, he knew this was somehow different. Pervasive. Subtle.

Still, he charged. His legs coiled and released, sending him into a rapid leap accelerated by a surge of his wings. He barreled towards the bearded figure, a primal exhilaration filling him as the orb broke against his chest.

There was a flash of red light and he was surrounded by billowing clouds of smoke. It felt as though he had been drenched in water, and then every muscle in his body went numb. With gravity pulling him along for the ride, he burst through the smoke and hurtled towards the bearded man.

The man gave a startled yelp and leapt to the side as Alduin crashed into the floor. The dragon’s body glanced off the stone and back into the air, finally striking and collapsing the southern wall.

Shaking himself free of the tingling numbness, Alduin staggered to his feet. Something felt… different. His scales were raw and itching, and a strange ache covered his back.

A measure of clarity had returned. He looked around, bewildered. Where was he? Broken walls on either side, openings in front and above, and a shrieking wall of wind and clouds blocking any view of the outside. He could remember facing a storm such as this before. But where? And why?

“How in Hammerfell?!” A voice rang out from behind. It was familiar, and Alduin wheeled around to look for its source. His gaze landed on the white-haired figure, and his skull exploded in pain. Images flashed through his mind, too quick to process, too vague to understand. He knew this creature… this… what was the word? This man?

“It… it didn’t work? Hmm, nope! He’s still big, still sharp, and still angry. That’s certainly not optimal. Wonder if the staff is out of juice? I swear, if that idiot Dragonborn used up all the charge, I’m giving him to the Gatekeeper as a chew toy!”

Alduin shuddered as another flash of pain ran through his head. Dragonborn. What did that word mean? If he could just remember…

Alduin hissed in pain, and the man turned its attention back to him. Its jaw fell open in surprise, and then it began laughing uncontrollably.

“Ha ha ha ha haha, oh, oh do excuse me! But, ha ha ha!” The staff nearly fell from its hands as it clutched its stomach and doubled over. “I… I guess it wasn’t a complete failure after all. You’re… much more colorful than before… ha ha ha ha!”

The dragon’s thoughts flared with hate and the anger returned full-force. This nuisance, this pest had the gall to mock him! Whatever it was, however he had once known it, it was going to die!

And so, unmindful of the fact that his razor-edged scales had changed into a smooth, soft hide, or that the sculpted spikes of bone along his back had been replaced by rounded spines, the now purple and green dragon lowered his head and charged.

Right into another crimson orb of magic.

Another flash of light, another cloud of smoke. But this time the effect was far worse than simple numbness. This time, he could feel a terrible wrenching in his wings, could feel the membrane and veins withering away, the bones cracking and popping as they changed in shape and density.

He hit the ground with a resounding boom, rolling to a stop and moaning in agony. He could still hear the sounds of his body rearranging itself, could feel the muscle and sinew winding down his limbs as the bones continued to morph. Pain rippled through his tail with a series of rhythmic cracks. Pressure tightened at his shoulders until it seemed as though his wings would snap off at the base.

It was over in an instant, though to him the change had lasted hours. He shuddered, drew air into his raw and burning lungs. His wings felt thick, unfamiliar. There was a marked shortness in his tail. He tried to rise, but his body felt wrong. Too heavy in some places, too light in others. He collapsed back to the floor, wrapped in the pain of his shrieking nerves. What was happening? Why did his wings feel so…

He looked to the side and froze, letting out a flat, uncomprehending grunt at what he saw.

His wing was gone, replaced instead by a muscular foreleg. He stared at the five talons, separated and free of the tissue that had once connected each bone. The wrist, the elbow, it all looked and felt so alien that he was unsure if it was even his own limb. But somehow, he knew that the bearded man had done this. That staff and its red orbs had changed him.

He was shaken out of his stupor by the sound of boots tapping against stone. The man was coming towards him. Alduin still could not remember who or even what it was, but he knew that it was dangerous. And he had to get away.

He pushed himself up on his feet and took a single step; only to fall once again as his newly acquired legs became tangled with his hind ones.

The man was coming closer. Alduin forced himself up, tried to back away. His heart was pounding, well aware of the threat posed by the staff in the man’s grip. He snarled, knowing it would do little to dissuade the man.

It stopped, looking at him as if surprised. “Oh, still have some fight left in you? Well, don’t get used to it.” The man chuckled and raised its staff. “Here in a minute, you’ll find yourself with a great deal less bark AND bite.”

Alduin tensed, looking past the man and through the ruined wall. The storm continued to rage, and though the wind lashed and tore at the structure, it seemed a safer choice than remaining here.

A red light began to glow at the staff’s tip. “Now then, that last shot did quite a number, so I think one more ought to finish things. What do you say, best two out of three?”

Best two out of three…

Another flash of revelation. Another series of memories, images and sounds. He could recall only the scantest details about the man, but even that was enough to send his adrenaline skyrocketing.

Not a man, this creature was a Daedra! An immortal, immoral madman who doled out cruelty or compassion purely on whimsy. A being of indescribable power.

And he was at its mercy.

His memories scattered, his cognizance barely existent, Alduin made the instinctive choice.

He pushed off all four of his legs, launching himself towards the gap in the northern wall. The Daedra shouted something, but he was already hurtling past, too quickly for it to catch him. But there was a rush of air, and time itself seemed to pause, and then it was standing before him, staff glowing as brightly as the sun.

“GOTCHA!”

Alduin shut his eyes as the red orb slammed into his chest.

Sheogorath grinned in triumph as the cloud of smoke hid Alduin from sight. That last hit had been a doozey. There was no way that scaly little bastard was any more than shin-high by now…

Then a purple and green shape flew out of the smoke, crashing into Sheogorath’s chest and knocking him to the floor. The Daedric Prince screamed and began to thrash wildly.

“It’s got me! Oh sweet, suffering skeevers it’s got me! I can feel its hideous fangs! All is lost! Monks, monks, monks!”

“Sheogorath…” Akatosh’s perpetually annoyed voice cut through his histrionics, and the madgod sighed.

“Hush! Can’t you see I’m in the middle of being mutilated? Now then, where was I? Oh yes! ARGH! It’s too late for me! Save yourself! Tell… Kynareth… I… always… loved…”

“Sheogorath!”

“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to interrupt a tragic death scene? Terribly impolite.” Opening his eyes, he fixed the possessed pony with a glare before gesturing to himself. “How am I supposed to convey the sheer agony of being torn apart by this giant, bloodthirsty...”

He looked down and noticed that curled up on his chest was a tiny infant dragon. The hatchling gave a quiet yawn and smacked his lips.

Sheogorath gave a weak laugh. “Well, you see, he was quite fearsome a moment ago! Give him a second.”

The two deities watched raptly as Alduin snuggled closer and began to drool onto Sheogorath’s coat.

At once, the Daedra resumed his thrashing. “ARGH! The drool, it burns! Saliva of death! I’m melting, melting! Who would’ve thought a pudgy little dragon like him could defeat my magnificent beardliness!”

Akatosh groaned and pulled Alduin away, carrying him to the room’s far side. Sheogorath let out a frustrated huff and leapt to his feet.

“Bah, you have no sense of humor whatsoever! Anyone else would’ve understood the joke! Come on, omnipotent deity mauled by cute baby dragon? It’s absurdist humor! Do you really have to be so damned stolid all the time? You must be a real bore at parties, and trust me I’ve seen some-”

Akatosh ignored him and lowered his son onto the small pile of ashes that remained from his rebirth. The hatchling shuddered and weakly lifted his arms, as though reaching out for the warmth he knew to be close by.

“Not to mention how it’s seemed to translate to each one of your offspring, as well! I swear, it’s like there’s a gigantic stick jammed up your arse and you broke a piece off for each one of…” Sheogorath stopped, recognizing in a rare moment of tact that this was not a time for levity. Moving behind Akatosh, he placed a hand on the pony’s back.

“You’re doing the right thing, you know. Giving him this chance.”

“But is it a wise decision, loosing him upon this world after so many misdeeds, so many past crimes?”

Sheogorath’s face was the picture of indignation. “Now you wait just a minute! I don’t care for what you’re insinuating! I’ll have you know that some of Nirn’s greatest heroes started out as pardoned criminals.”

The madgod snapped his fingers. His body changed into that of a thin, black-haired man, dressed in rags with shackles on his wrists. “Why, just look at me! Once a poor, falsely accused Imperial languishing in the dungeon, I was rescued by a doddering old emperor and his retinue of laughably ineffective guards!”

Another snap of the fingers, and the man was now dressed in simple leather armor and brandishing a rusty sword. “From there I was thrown, lost and unprepared into the cruel world. And what did I accomplish from these humble beginnings?”

*snap* The man was wearing heavy black and gold armor, an ebony claymore strapped to his back. “I rescued the bastard heir to the throne! Chased down a cult! Ate some cheese! Thwarted an invasion, and finally saved an empire!

Sheogorath returned to his normal form. “And after all was said and done, I ascended to godhood! Grew a lovely beard in the process! All while remaining a paragon of morality and deliberation.”

Akatosh was unconvinced. “Paragon of morality? You once destroyed an entire village by bombarding it with flaming dogs!”

“They had it coming,” Sheogorath scoffed. “But fine, if you need further examples. How about the Eternal Champion? Snatched from prison by Jagar Tharn’s own apprentice to liberate the true emperor? Or the Nerevarine, imprisoned and exiled before embarking on a quest to save her homeland?”

He jabbed a thumb at Alduin. “Even your little Dovahkiin was all set to be judged, juried and executed before big brother here swooped in and tore the place apart. So don’t act like his previous attempts at genocide are any cause for alarm. In Tamriel, social reprobation is almost a job requirement for heroism!”

“Perhaps that is as much of a reassurance as I can expect,” Akatosh said.

Sheogorath grinned. “That’s still better than dissuasion, right? So come on, stop stalling and let’s get to unscrambling the boy’s head so you can send me home.”

Akatosh hesitated. “I think perhaps it would be best if I undertook that task alone. I doubt you’ve much skill in repairing a mind. More the opposite, in fact.”

If Sheogorath knew he had just been insulted, he didn’t seem to care. “Then what are you waiting for? Send me off! It’s nearly time for my daily sweetroll after all!”

“Very well, I release you from my service. Go with my eternal gratitude, and that of my son, though it will be some time before he remembers this day.”

The madgod waved his hand dismissively. “Bah! No need for thanks. Just don’t go spreading the news around! The last thing I want is a reputation as an Aedra’s errand boy!”

His smile dropped slightly, and he looked down at Akatosh. “But, if it’s not too much to ask, there is one thing you might do to repay me.”

This was certainly unexpected. Half-dreading the answer, Akatosh nodded. “Speak, and I will heed.”

Sheogorath paused to consider his words. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its overbearing brogue. “When you return to Aetherius, you might give my regards to Martin, and to Uriel as well,” The madgod now spoke with a soft, Colovian accent. The voice of the mortal he had once been. “Let them know that they haven’t been forgotten, by me or their people. Tell them… I’m keeping an eye on things in Cyrodil for them.”

“Of course,” Akatosh placed a hoof on Sheogorath’s knee and smiled. “I am certain they will be pleased to know of your well-being.”

Sheogorath coughed harshly. “Well, they certainly ought to be,” he roared, his voice back to its usual timbre. “After all, I’m the one they saddled with the brunt of the work on stopping that particular apocalypse! All they had to do was make speeches, pose dramatically, and die inspiringly! I was the one who got stuck trudging ‘cross the continent, dungeon-diving, and knocking down each of those damned Oblivion Gates!”

Sensing that their moment of profundity was over, Akatosh gathered his magic. “Fare you well, madgod, and may our paths cross again.”

“Hey now! You can’t just dismiss me while I’m in the middle of-”

There was a burst of light, a soft ‘pop,’ and Sheogorath vanished into thin air.

The possessed pony blew out a long, tired breath. This one day had proven more exhausting than the previous two hundred years combined. But now, it was almost over. Just one more piece to set in motion…

Moving back to the broken wall, he looked out at the storm still raging overhead. It had done an admirable job of cloaking them from any outside witnesses, but he imagined the citizens of this land were none too pleased to have a tornado sitting motionless in their city.

“Lok… VAH KOOR!”

The wall of clouds buckled, denting outwards as though struck by an invisible fist. The winds and rain ceased as the storm broke apart, and Akatosh looked down at his borrowed form and smiled as sunlight filtered back into the room.

“My deepest thanks to you as well, child. Though none may ever know of your role in this, it gladdens my heart to know that my son will not be alone. Sleep well, knowing that you have helped to save this world.”

There was a rush of air, and Twilight’s eyes drooped shut. The pony’s limp body slumped to the floor, and the spirit of Akatosh was formless once again. With no further resistance, he dove into Alduin’s body, descending down through the broken ruin of memories. With the utmost care, he began pulling them close.

The memories and knowledge of any creature were not unlike a vast, woven tapestry. Each strand was unique and beautiful in its own right, but when twined and arrayed with others, it helped to form the story, the very identity of the being to whom it belonged.

Alduin’s tapestry was frayed and tattered, tangled beyond recognition. Akatosh probed carefully, feeling the mangled strands and skewed images. His heart sank.

His son was almost beyond saving. The damage was too extensive to simply repair.

He was left with only one choice. Alduin’s very mind would have to be unraveled and rewoven from scratch.

Alduin had awakened. He could sense the confusion as his son tried to make sense of the few memories that remained intact.

Regretfully, Akatosh took hold of the tapestry of Alduin’s life.

And ripped it down.

Something had gone wrong. As much as she wanted to deny it, the evidence was right in front of her. And several miles above her, judging by the size of the storm.

They were nearly in sight of Canterlot when the clouds began appearing. They built quickly, and soon the entire city was covered. It was happening far too quickly to be a natural occurrence. Not even an army of pegasi could hope to stir up this kind of storm in so little time.

The base of the cloud had already deepened to black when they were still three miles out. The storm was truly massive, enshrouding the entire mountain and towering high over the earth. Celestia pushed herself to move faster. This storm was obviously of magical creation, almost certainly an Element’s work.

And she knew exactly which one it was. She’d bet her crown on it. Now if only she could get there in time to stop it…

As if in reply, a tornado spun down from the cloud, its tip stabbing into the ground like a manticore’s tail. Celestia’s heart leapt into her throat, fear for her subjects overwhelming any other thought. Tucking her wings, she dove towards the city.

A crumbling object shot past, merely inches away from her head. She looked back to see one of her guards bank hard to the left, narrowly missing the broken chimney as it flew through the air.

Debris was hurtling past them on all sides. Broken trees, chunks of masonry, entire walls, broken carts, and a million more objects launched from the tornado’s funnel.

She caught sight of a white shape to the left, and one of her guards struggled to fly alongside her.

“Princess, we have to turn back” he screamed over the howl of the storm. “It’s far too dangerous for you to try and go through this!”

“I will not let my city be destroyed!” She screamed back, the wind seeming to rip the words from her mouth. “Take the squadron and retreat to a safe distance, but I am pushing through!”

She gave a pump of her wings and shot past the protesting stallion. Blue streaks of lightning scythed down from the clouds, washing out her vision with their glare. More debris streaked towards her, and her horn flared with light.

Lowering her head, she cleared a path through the wreckage. Flinging aside the smaller pieces, blasting straight through the larger ones. The winds were stronger now, and they pushed and tugged at the alicorn. She was shoved several hundred feet upwards, battled the rising air and fought her way back down. Her wings were straining with the effort, and she leaned onto her right side, plummeted and rose again like a foal on a carnival ride. Her necklace ripped away, two of her shoes were yanked from her hooves. But she pulled free of the downdraft, stabilized her descent, and continued on.

She passed over the city, noting thankfully that it was largely untouched. The storm appeared to be immobile, its epicenter fixed over a single building. Her school. She was certain of it.

Small multicolored shapes flitted above and below her, and for one terrifying instant, she thought she was seeing the bodies of her subjects being tossed about by the wind. But the details became clear, and she saw that there were dozens of pegasi circling the tornado, occasionally darting in and striking at the clouds above it.

A tan stallion caught her eye, and she struggled towards him, futilely screaming his name through the wind. The rain was falling harder… her wings were soaked and heavy… but she was almost there… his gaze turned to meet her. Then his head angled down and his mouth opened in a yell.

Celestia looked.

From out of the black funnel an object was streaking towards her. She barely recognized it but for the color. It was a train car, bent and twisted by the winds. Through the windows, she could see tattered seats and abandoned luggage tumbling about.

With no time to prepare, Celestia snapped her head downwards, firing a bolt of magic straight at the incoming missile. It struck the car with a boom, shearing half of it away.

But the remaining section was still rising to meet her. Her blast had sent it tumbling, and she could see the objects inside spilling out from the broken end.

Celestia beat her wings harder than she would have thought possible, even feeding magic into the air below to lift herself higher. But she was rising too slowly, and there was no more time to dodge.

She wrapped a shield of magic around herself in the last moments before the car hit.

Even with the shield, it hit with enough force to punch the wind out of Celestia’s lungs. Pain exploded in her head, rattling through her skull as a muted roar filled her ears. It reminded her of being kicked full-force in the chin by Luna when they were fillies, and then she was sent flying backwards. Too disoriented to fight the shrieking winds, Celestia tumbled wing over wing through the black air. Dimly, she saw a tanned streak pass underneath her, and then there was warm fur and hooves against her shoulders.

She was falling more slowly now, and she could feel the pressure beneath her more clearly. Something was pushing against her, attempting to slow her descent. As she came to her senses, she felt more hooves against her coat, feathers scraping her back as they beat furiously against the wind. Whatever was below her landed shakily, and then she felt several hooves carefully lower her to the ground.

She lay there, for how long, she didn’t know. She was eventually roused by a voice yelling over the sound of the falling rain and the wind. It was calling her name.

She lifted her head and immediately regretted the action. Bands of pain rippled down her neck, shoulders and chest, and she could already feel that her entire body was severely bruised. Carefully, she pressed each of her legs against the ground, probing for broken bones. She was lucky. Everything appeared intact. Sore, but intact.

When she finally opened her eyes, her vision was filled with golden armour and white fur. Her soldiers were huddled together around her, their bodies forming a makeshift barricade to guard against further debris. She noticed that a hoof was tapping against her shoulder, and she turned to see Stillwater’s panicked face sag in relief.

“Princess, thank goodness you’re alright,” he said. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to slow your fall. Luckily for us both your guards were nearby, or I… wait! Princess, you need to rest after a fall like that!”

Celestia pushed herself up, ignoring Stillwater’s protests. “No time.” She said. “Is everypony alright?”

“Wha… yes, yes of course. I mean, I managed to evacuate the two closest blocks surrounding the school, but there’s no telling what kind of injuries this debris has caused!”

The alicorn nodded. “Then you know why we have to break this storm apart as quickly as possible.”

“We’ve been trying as best we can,” Stillwater said. “But we can’t puncture through!” He gestured to the clouds over the tornado. “Whatever dent we make in it, the clouds reform immediately! I’ve never seen a storm like it!”

“It has to be of magical construction. And if the source is what I believe it to be,” she looked up at the swirling funnel and extended her wings. “Then we have to get inside of it to take it down.”

Stillwater flew up to eye-level with Celestia, his hooves waving frantically. “No milady! I can’t let you fly into that thing! Look what nearly happened! The next time could be worse!”

“Stillwater, we don’t have any other choice-”

“VAH KOOR!”

The sound boomed out from somewhere inside the twister. A massive hole blew through the wall of the funnel, sending dirt and rock flying out and over the city. The tornado crumpled, the bottom tip dwindling into a thin needle while the remaining half heeled onto its side before the entire mass dissipated into thin air. Like an unraveling carpet, the massive pile of clouds began to burst and scatter. The towering anvil split down the middle, and bolts of lightning arced between the two halves. Then the great masses of clouds began to shift. Cracks of azure spread out through the black, and sunlight began to pour through the final, crumbling pieces.

An unseen wind swept the last remnants of cloud up and away. Within moments, the skies were calm and blue over Canterlot.

Well, except for the rain of dust and debris. As objects showered down over the city, Celestia, Stillwater and the numerous pegasi could only gape in astonishment at the empty expanse.

Had it not been for the ring of shattered buildings at the heart of the city, no one would have suspected that a storm had even taken place.

Realizing that the way was clear, Celestia leapt to her hooves. She had to act fast. Whatever stroke of luck dissipated that storm, another might form just as quickly.

She turned to Stillwater. “I want you to take my guards, search the affected area as quickly as you can. Evacuate any injured ponies you find, but do not treat them until you’ve reached a safe distance from the school. We might not have seen the last of that storm.”

Stillwater nodded. “As you wish, milady.”

With her orders delivered, she took to the air with a flurry of wing beats. Stillwater and her guards would assess the damage, care for the wounded, see to the repairs. Right now, there was only one pony on her mind.

Foregoing the entrance, the princess swooped in through the broken wall, her eyes widening as she took in the chaotic state of the room.

Perhaps this was not Twilight’s magic after all. With the potted plants, levitating ponies, and mismatched décor, it looked more as though Discord had stopped in for a visit.

Warily, she turned and looked over her shoulder, then at the floor beneath and finally at the ceiling, half-expecting the crazed draconequus to drop out of the sky and onto her head. Luckily, there were no ‘pfoofing’ flashes of light, no bone-chilling finger snaps, and no mariachi bands popping into existence.

She let out a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding. Well, that was certainly a relief. But then, where was… She spotted an unmoving purple shape from the corner of her eye, and Celestia dashed over to examine the unconscious filly. She was relieved to see that Twilight was merely asleep, no doubt exhausted from having unleashed such chaos.

Leaning down, the alicorn gently nudged Twilight with her nose. The unicorn mumbled and turned over in her sleep. Chuckling, Celestia tried again. This time, Twilight groaned and flung a foreleg over her eyes.

“Rise and shine, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia chided playfully. “I don’t allow my students to laze around when there’s work to be done.”

As though she’d spoken a magic phrase, Twilight’s eyes shot open, and the filly leapt to her hooves.

“Me? Student? Yours? Test? I? Passed?” The filly’s mouth was moving a mile a minute, her expression filled with shock, disbelief and hope.

Celestia laughed. “Well, of course! I don’t think I’ve ever come across a unicorn with your raw ability!” She gestured to the room around them. “Though in your case, those abilities are perhaps a bit too raw.”

“Huh,” the unicorn squeaked.

Celestia tapped her chin with a hoof. “You need to tame those abilities through careful study. Perhaps if I, well, first I think another test will be in order.”

“ANOTHER test?!” Twilight thought she was going to faint all over again!

“Well of course! Undoing the effects of your magic will give me a better understanding of your control.” The princess smiled and pointed up at the levitating unicorns. “And besides, we can’t simply leave them floating about, now can we?”

Twilight gulped. She’d completely forgotten about that. What would the professors think? Would they be angry at her? Would they kick her out of the school? Or worse, what if they flunked her and THEN kicked her out!

Misinterpreting her panic, Celestia rested a hoof on the girl’s shoulder. “Don’t be nervous, Twilight. I can walk you through performing a counter-spell.”

“Oh, no, no! It’s not that,” Twilight stammered out. She continued with a hint of pride. “In fact, I already know how to use it!”

The alicorn blinked in surprise. She knew that this filly was a bookworm, but already knowing a general purpose counter-spell at her age? Perhaps Cascade had been instructing her in his spare time?

“Wonderful! In that case, let me see what you can do.”

Realizing that she had put herself on the spot, Twilight gave what she hoped was a confident smile and concentrated. To her amazement, a field of magic instantly surrounded her horn. What had once been a difficult, even strenuous process was now as simple as breathing in and out. Spurred on by this discovery, Twilight took aim and cast.

A series of flashes lit the room, and things returned to their normal state. The potted plants were replaced by her parents. The unicorn professors fell back to the floor with a ‘thump.’ The statue in the back shattered as Sweet Grass was freed from his stone prison.

The rows of chairs burst back into flames.

Twilight drew back in alarm, but before she could even remember if she had learned a counter-spell for counter-spells, Celestia had stepped forward and extinguished the fire. The purple filly felt everypony’s eyes turn to her, and she braced herself for what was sure to be a scathing condemnation.

“Sweetie, that was amazing!” Her mother raced over, grasping her around the chest and tossing her into the air. “You did so well! Your father and I are so proud! I just can’t wait to tell your grandfather about this!”

One of the professors hobbled over. “I must say, Miss Sparkle, I am duly impressed. That… display… was certainly enough to qualify you for entrance to our school. More than qualified, I daresay.”

“Well, of course she’s qualified,” her father said. “With how much she’s practiced and studied to get to this point, you wouldn’t find another foal in Canterlot with better skills!”

The professor nodded. “I quite agree. Princess? On behalf of the advisory board, I place my full recommendation for Miss Sparkle’s immediate enrollment!”

The girl’s parents cheered, but Celestia remained silent. Her brow furrowed in consideration, and she finally shook her head. “No. I have decided that Twilight Sparkle will not be granted general admission to the School for Gifted Unicorns.”

The room fell silent, and Twilight could feel her heart breaking at the news. Tears welled up in her eyes, but then Celestia turned to her with a mischievous smile.

“From what I have observed, she has proven herself more than your staff is capable of handling. Therefore, rather than have her follow the usual curriculum, I have chosen to personally instruct her as my student and protégé. That is… if I’m allowed?”

Twilight was frozen stiff, her eyes wide as dinner plates. The seconds ticked by, and finally Twilight’s mother gave her daughter a gentle shake.

“Honey, the princess wants to teach you HERSELF! Would you like that?”

“YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” Twilight screamed and leapt several feet into the air.

“One more thing,” Celestia called up to her. Twilight flopped back to the ground. There was MORE?

Looking up, she could see the princess pointing at something. Turning her head, her eyes lit up at the sight.

“My cutie mark! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

As the overjoyed filly hopped about the room, her parents approached Celestia.

“Thank you so much, your highness, for giving her this chance.” Her father bowed deeply. “I promise you that you will not regret it.”

“I am quite certain I won’t. I expect great things from your daughter.”

Her mother snickered. “Well, if she takes after my dad, you won’t be disappointed. It’s going to make his day when he hears the news.”

Celestia laughed. “I look quite forward to his reaction. Now, there’s quite a bit to be done, but later today I’d like to speak with you both about-”

A pony cleared his throat behind her, and she turned to see Sweet Grass with his head bowed. His teeth were clenched, and she could see his shoulders trembling. Meeting her gaze, he said in a cracking voice, “Your highness, forgive me. Please, please forgive me.”

“There is no need to apologize, my friend. In truth, I should be thanking you. Her test was a complete success!” The stallion flinched as though he’d been slapped, and she realized that there was something deeper to this. Kneeling down, she looked him straight in the eye. “Sweet Grass, what troubles you,” she asked gently.

“It’s, it’s all my fault,” he blurted out in despair. “I should have known it was a terrible idea, I should have refused, or returned it! I don’t know what I was thinking! I swear to you, princess! I didn’t mean for it to happen! I never wanted any harm to come to it!”

A chill ran up her spine. He couldn’t be talking about… no, no it wasn’t possible! It was safe and secure in her room!

“What are you saying,” she whispered.

“The egg! Your egg,” he wailed. “It… it was…”

Her chest tightened in pain, and a sense of nausea crept from her stomach and up into her throat. She was paralyzed, unable to think beyond a frantic, babbling denial. This couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t! After all this time, the anticipation, the frustration, the joy, the sorrow, it couldn’t be gone! But why else would Sweet Grass be throwing himself at her hooves begging for mercy?

Words finally passed her lips in a flat, dead tone. “What happened?”

Sweet Grass cringed and attempted to explain. “I… I brought it here, to use as a portion of the test. I was told that a barrier surrounded it, that it would allow us to measure Miss Sparkle’s magical abilities. I didn’t think she could break through it, but she… she…”

“I did it,” the filly blurted out from behind them. “I’m so sorry; I thought it was the point of the test!

Celestia turned back, and Twilight shied away when their eyes met. The alicorn’s face was a rictus of grief and pain. It was several moments before she could voice a question. Even then, she only managed to repeat what she had last asked.

“What happened?”

Almost afraid to answer, Twilight nonetheless lifted a hoof and pointed across the room. “Well, I sort of, hatched it.”

Those words smashed clean through the fog of confusion and sorrow that had built around her, and Celestia spun around to follow Twilight’s hoof. At the other end of the hall, lying atop a pile of ashes was a dragon. Its scales were a deep, royal purple, and the spines along its head and back were a vibrant green. It cried out softly, stretched, and then its brilliant green eyes were looking curiously around the room.

Celestia’s jaw slowly dropped open as she stared in wonder at the infant. For so many days and nights she had dreamed of this moment, but now it seemed so unbelievable, so surreal.

It had finally happened! Her child was born!

She continued to watch as the hatchling examined its surroundings. When its gaze turned to her, she felt a burst of hope. Its attention was fixed solely on her. Did it recognize her? Did it already know her?

As if in answer, the dragon pushed itself up on one claw, the other lifting as it tried to crawl towards her. But the claw slipped, and the infant plopped back onto the ashes with a dismayed cry.

Her paralysis broke, and Celestia gave a euphoric squeal and rocketed into the air. Speeding across the room, she swept the hatchling up in her forelegs and pulled him against her chest. She could feel the scales rubbing against her fur, could feel his breath on her coat, could feel his heart beating strong and healthy.

Celestia wept in pure and utter joy. Floating higher, she pulled back and looked over the hatchling. His head lifted, and for the first time, she locked eyes with her son. Her heart seemed to burst with love, and she found herself weeping yet again.

She snuggled him to her chest as she slowly drifted back down to the floor. “You’re finally here,” she whispered. “You’re finally here with me.”

“-ranting! How would you…”

Sheogorath looked around in bewilderment. He was in a vast hall carved of stone. A carpeted walkway stretched down the length of the room. On either side, streams of water flowed, and torches of blue and orange flames cast eerie shadows on the walls. Behind him sat a great marble throne, its back set into the Tree of Madness and the fountainhead of his powers.

He was home.

“Ha! Just couldn’t let me have the last word now, could you,” he shouted into the air. “Well, fine! Use me, abuse me, and toss me aside without so much as a note on the nightstand! It’s not as though I’m the type of man to take offense.”

No, he was not the type of man to take offense at such a slight. What did offend him was not being welcomed on his return. That would have to be remedied.

“Haskill, I’m hoooooooome,” he called out. No reply.

“Haskill,” he tried again. “I’ve got a message from your father! He wants you to know that he’s very disappointed in you! You and all your delinquent siblings. He says it’s been several thousand years, and still no grandchildren! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Nobody answered. The hall was as still and silent as a grave.

He reclined back into his throne. Immediately a deep, biting cold shot through his body. Sheogorath frowned and looked down. His throne was coated with ice. Frost crystals were already appearing on his coat, and his hands were stuck, half-frozen to the stone.

Sheogorath pulled himself free, ripping chunks of skin from his palms. He watched the skin heal, wondering what had made his throne so cold that it froze flesh on contact?

But it wasn’t just his throne. The temperature of the whole room was plummeting. Ice crept up the pillars; the two streams of water were frozen solid. His breath steamed out, only to freeze in midair. One by one, the magical torches extinguished, and the room fell into shadows.

Growing suspicious, Sheogorath leapt up from his throne and opened his hand. A ball of flame crackled into existence. He cupped his second hand over the fire, and then slowly pulled it away. The flame expanded, bringing heat and light back to the frigid room.

But the flame could only illuminate so much. Dark, ominous shadows still twisted through the hall. Cautiously, he stepped down from the dais and onto the walk path. In the meager glow of the fireball, he could see the entirety of the room. Empty.

Well, this certainly was strange. After his rather abrupt departure, he would have thought the place would be stuffed full of his guards. For the entire place to be deserted? It pointed to either an unwelcome intruder or a hilarious prankster.

And Sheogorath hated both intruders and pranksters.

“Alright, who’s out there! Is this your idea of a joke? Freeze him to his throne? Alright, I admit it, you got me! Now come out already, it’s time for your smiting!”

“I’m afraid no one can hear you, madgod.” A voice hissed out from the darkness.

Sheogorath looked around. Nothing but ice and darkness. “Well, you seem to hear me just fine,” he said. “So why don’t you explain where the rest of them are?”

“They have been dismissed. I did not wish for them to interfere in our… business.”

Definitely an intruder. Or maybe a lust-filled admirer? He found himself hoping it was the former. Judging by the thing’s voice, it was as physically attractive as an Udyrfrykte. If that was the case, he didn’t want it anywhere near him. That kind of sexual debauchery was more Sanguine’s hobby than his own.

Sheogorath knew he was going to regret this. “Well, what are you creeping around for? If you have business with me, get out here and get on with it! I have better things to do with my time than play guessing games in the dark!”

“Very well.”

A figure was slinking out of the gloom. Sheogorath’s eyes narrowed in recognition.

Another Daedric Prince. Perhaps the last one he wanted to deal with.

Alduin was awoken by someone yelling, the sound loud and almost painful in his ears. He was confused. How could there be yelling? Hadn’t he died?

But the voice sounded real enough. And… he could feel the breeze on his face, and the grainy texture of something like sand beneath him. Such things could not exist in the Void. But how?

His thoughts were sluggish, but he recalled the conversation with his father. The admission of guilt, the promise of redemption. Then that must mean, that he was alive!

He wrenched open his eyes. They burned in the sunlight, and he dropped his head and squinted through the pain. Everything was unfocused. Blurry. He wondered how long it had been since he’d last used his eyes.

The details slid into clarity, and Alduin found himself in awe.

He lay on the floor of a hall, greater in scope than any seen before. Its walls stretched away for what seemed to be miles, and its walls climbed impossibly high before terminating at an open field above.

By his estimation, the room looked big enough to allow the entirety of his brethren to fly about unimpeded! It made him wonder just how larger the creatures inhabiting this world might be, if their structures dwarfed him so completely.

More voices joined the first, and Alduin turned, anxious to see his masters in this new world. As he expected, they were massive creatures. Many were several times his size, with the largest being a gargantuan, white-winged behemoth that looked more than capable of crushing him underfoot.

He was puzzled. Akatosh had told him that he would be serving creatures weaker than himself in an effort to atone for his past sins.

Why then was he placed among such giants? To humble him? To dissuade him from violence? He had to admit, so far it was working.

Alduin paused in his observations. There was something strange about these creatures. Familiarity, like he had encountered them before. His eyes ran over their features. The familiar shape of the bodies, the manes and tails, their hoofed feet. It puzzled him that he should be so forgetful. Why was it so hard to remember?

Dimly, he recalled seeing them before. Not so grandly colored, of course. And… there was some object atop their backs, or a cart pulled behind them. Mortal riders, perhaps? The answer came, and he nearly laughed. Of course! They were akin to the beasts of burden and transport from his own land. But, what where they called? He could not find the words in the common tongue nor his own. He had no memory of either.

He looked over each of the creatures, debating whether to announce his presence. Though several milled about, only two drew his attention.

The first was impossible to ignore. Standing far taller than the others, its white coat seemed to glow with an inner light, and its violet eyes spoke of age and wisdom far beyond its peers. Strangely enough, its appearance was disheveled. Its mane was unkempt and frazzled, scratches covered its body, and for some absurd reason it seemed on the verge of tears. Even still, he could tell that this was a being of authority, of importance. The others seemed to crowd around it, perhaps in reverence or in fear. A leader, perhaps? Or royalty, as the mortals called it?

The other was much less impressive. The smallest of the creatures, its coat was a soft purple, and its horn barely extended beyond the hairs of its mane. It looked timid, weak, compared to the larger creature. But somehow he knew that was not the case. He felt as if he knew this one. There was an aura of familiarity around it, of comfort. It made him feel safe, but why?

The purple one extended a hoof, and he realized that it was pointing in his direction. The larger one’s attention turned towards him, and he found himself lowering his gaze in an instinctive display of submission.

He could tell that it was shocked by his presence, and why not? For all he knew, dragons did not exist in this land, much less appeared out of thin air for inexplicable purposes. Best that he announce himself quickly. He only hoped they spoke his tongue…

He would rise to his feet, revealing his name and commitment to their service. Then a low, sweeping bow with outstretched wings and a pledge of loyalty to their people and sovereign. A humble gesture, one that he hoped would be accepted. He had no desire to immediately make enemies of an entire world.

At least, that’s how he intended it to work. His actual introduction consisted of falling back onto his stomach and sending a miniature cloud of ashes into the air.

He managed to lift his head and spat ashes from his mouth. Before he could try again, there was a flurry of wing beats, and he looked up to see the white creature coming straight at him.

‘So much for a civil introduction,’ he thought ruefully. With no time to dodge, he could only brace himself and wait for the oncoming impact.

But rather than trample him into the floor, the creature caught him in its forelegs and bore him into the air. Alduin’s stomach lurched at the sudden movement, and then they were rising higher, and he was being pulled against the creature’s chest. He felt himself beginning to panic, not out of fear, but confusion. What was it trying to do? Crush him? Restrain his wings so he couldn’t fly? Smash him against a wall?

But instead of pain, he felt the touch of warm fur. The embrace was soft and gentle, as though it was afraid of gripping him too tight. Its heart thumped quickly, almost nervously against his ear.

What in the world was going on?!

It drew back, and he looked up to meets its eyes. His confusion only deepened. A smile was on its face… but it was crying?

Before he had time to dwell on the matter, he was pulled back into its embrace. Only now, its chest was heaving with sobs, and the hooves around his body were rubbing him in circular motions.

Unable to comprehend the situation, Alduin could only lay helpless in the creature’s hold while his bewilderment grew.

They were descending now, and he could hear the creature mumbling as it held him close.

“You’re finally here. You’re finally here with me.”

Despite the welcome revelation that he could understand her language, Alduin was too stunned to react. As absurd as it seemed, this creature, this female creature, he reminded himself, was happy! And by nothing more than his mere presence!

He tried to understand what this all could mean. The tears, the smiles, the tender caresses and embrace. Did… did this creature care for him?

He could barely entertain the thought. He was accustomed to being respected, to being feared, to being worshipped. But physical affection? Hah! Not even the most depraved mortal would be so foolish as to try and give the World Eater a hug.

He tried to squirm out of the creature’s hold. He had no desire to be coddled in such a manner. But her fur was soft and warm, her touch gentle, and to his utter horror he found that he was actually enjoying her embrace!

No, no! This was humiliating! It was degrading!

His struggles slowed, and he found himself nuzzling closer against her chest.

It was… utterly delightful.

A warm fog was settling over his mind as they landed, so that he barely noticed the other creatures milling around them. He paid little attention when several excited faces crowded over him and spoke amongst themselves.

Despite the fatigue, he was curious to know more about these creatures, and he strained to hear all he could.

“…are in order, princess. After so many years of waiting, you must be…”

“…idea how lucky we are? The first ponies to see the new…”

Their voices were overlapping; the following words too quick and jumbled for him to make out. Still, he heard enough. These creatures were called ponies, it seemed. And fortuitously for him, he was in the presence of their royalty! But who…

Of course, the one who was holding him! Why hadn’t he realized it sooner? Or… had he? The haze was creeping back over his mind, and his thoughts were gradually turning to a singular desire to rest.

“…make a suggestion, your majesty? Any announce should be postponed until…”

“…excellent point.”

“…is overseeing medical care and debris cleanup… want you to…”

He fought to stay awake. He had been sent here to serve these ponies, not to lounge about in their ruler’s hooves! It was an insult to them and an embarrassment to himself!

He tried to free himself, but his body felt numb and refused to obey. He pushed as hard as he could manage, but with no success. He was gasping for breath; his muscles already pushed to their limits.

The voices had stopped, and now the princess was leaning over him, her muzzle softly rubbing against his cheek. His resistance ebbed away, and he once again relaxed into the warmth of her embrace.

He would explain everything later. He was safe and sound, and right now, he only wanted to rest.

“Oh, princess! Princess!” The purple-coated child was speaking, her voice tinged with excitement. It mattered little. He just… wanted… to…

“What are you going to name him?!”

WHAT?!

Alduin’s eyes shot open, his fatigue instantly gone. The princess was looking down at him with a smile, her head tilted as though in thought.

The very question enraged him. Name him? They were going to NAME him like some common pet!? To spend his days addressed in such a dishonorable fashion? Never! He would serve them in whatever way was required, but he would not suffer himself to be branded with some meaningless title of their choosing.

With all of his strength, he finally wrenched his upper body free. Drawing his shoulders, he faced the ponies with the stoic confidence of an Aedric god, prepared to reveal his true name.

But all that came from his mouth was a thin and wordless cry. He tried again. And again. Soon he was switching between the tongues of men and dragons, struggling to speak just one word.

It was no use. Nothing passed his lips but a flood of yelps, squeaks and cries. It was like his tongue and throat had forgotten how to work!

For the first time since awakening, he looked down at himself. This time, his scream was not intended to be an intelligible thought.

The very first thing he noticed was how small he had become. He was tiny and underdeveloped. Infantile might be a better term to describe it. Thoughts turning frantic, he began to writhe and twist, struggling to see what other changes had been wrought to his body.

Deformed. That was the only he could describe himself now. His rich, ebony coloration was now a deep purple, and his scales had flattened down to a smooth hide. His neck had shortened, leaving his head uncomfortably close to his body, and his tail felt like nothing more than a stub. And what was wrong with his… his…

WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO HIS WINGS!?

He stared down at the arms, a cold sense of despair running down his spine. He was grounded. He could never fly again.

The pony was trying to draw him back, but the warmth of her embrace and the soft touch of her hooves now seemed more like a trap than a comfort. He kicked and swiped at her legs, but his new form was too weak to make a scratch.

“Shh, calm down, little one. Don’t be afraid,” she whispered into his ear. Her voice was soothing, hypnotic, and a traitorous part of his mind urged him to obey. “Everything’s alright. Mommy’s here.”

Alduin let out a choking gasp. This pony was claiming him as her child! Shock turned to outrage, and he ignored the rest of her words as he railed inwardly.

‘Father, what have you done to me!?’

I HAVE GIVEN YOU A CHANCE AT REDEMPTION.

Alduin froze at the words. He had not expected a response, had thought himself completely alone in this world. But it seemed Akatosh was present still.

He looked about. There had been no voice, nor sound. It was like a mental image of the runes being carved in slate.

‘Then why turn me into THIS,’ he demanded. ‘I cannot speak. I can scarcely move! I am nothing!’

YOU AGREED TO THIS.

‘I agreed to atone! To place myself in service of these creatures, to aid them in penance for my crimes!’ His anger was growing, it was making his head pound. ‘I did not consent to be changed into some mewling infant, meant to suckle at the teats of this, of this…”

A sharp bolt of pain arced through his skull, and his muscles went limp. He slumped forwards, but two white objects curled around him and kept him from falling.

He looked at the creature that held him. What was it? He felt like he should remember. Frowning, he tried to think past the warm, thick haze that seemed to blanket his thoughts. It was, she was, a p… a puh… princess? Yes, that sounded right.

But what was a princess? Why didn’t he know?

His thoughts were getting blurry. He remembered being angry for some reason. He had… changed somehow.

Puzzled, he looked down at his infant’s body, his tiny arms, his purple scales. What had he looked like before? Or had he always been like this?

There was a strange, almost fluid sensation in his head, like he had been cut and the blood was draining away. It didn’t hurt, but there was a sense of loss, of absence. But why?

It was getting harder to think. He decided that it must not be important. Maybe he would rest for a time, and it would all make sense when he awoke…

IT IS TIME, ALDUIN.

Time? Time for what? He forced himself to concentrate, but he couldn’t find the answer. He felt that he should know, but he just could not remember. Then it hit him.

He was losing his memories.

‘No… no, no, no!’ Now that he realized it, he could feel them going. Pieces of his life, the experience and the knowledge, dimmed and vanished like extinguished flames.

‘Wait, don’t do this’ he implored. ‘Haven’t you done enough? Let me remain myself, if only in mind! Damn you, at least let me have that!’

NO. IT IS TIME NOW, ALDUIN.

‘You cannot do this!’ His memories were fading fast, and a new fear pushed to the front of his thoughts. What if his father had no intention of allowing him to return to Nirn? What if this had all been a deception? To imprison him in this weakened form, to purge away his very essence, and then abandon him to this world?

He cursed himself for his foolishness. He cursed Akatosh for his trickery.

I WILL NOT ABANDON YOU.

The words rose up through his mind, and he realized in despair that he could no longer remember his father’s name.

YOU WILL BE MADE WHOLE ONCE AGAIN.

‘WHEN?!’

ONCE YOU HAVE EARNED BACK THAT RIGHT.

‘You’ve taken too much,’ he protested. ‘Why must I lose everything?!’

IT IS NECESSARY.

‘No, please, father! Please…’ Not once in his long and violent life had Alduin begged. He pleaded now, silently and desperately. But his mind slipped further, until he could no longer remember to whom he was crying out. ‘Please, give me back myself.”

With no other option, he turned his attention to the few memories he still possessed. He tried to focus on the sights, the sounds, the smells, anything that he might retain. But no matter what he tried, they swirled out of reach like leaves in a windstorm.

His mind was fading. He could barely form coherent thoughts.

In desperation, he clung to one last memory, the most important of all.

‘Zu’u Alduin. Kinbok do Dov. Vahlok do Keizaal.’

He repeated it again and again, willing, commanding himself to remember.

‘Zu’u Alduin. Kinbok do Dov. Vahlok do Keizaal.’

But the words grew dim, their meanings uncertain.

He forced himself to continue. He could not forget this. He would not forget this!

‘Zu’u… My name is… my… name…”

No! He couldn’t forget that! He tried desperately to remember, but it was no use.

He had forgotten his own name.

Despairing, he threw back his head and loosed all of his pain, all of his regret, all of his anger in a hoarse, wracking sob.

And then, nothing. He found himself shrouded by warmth. A soft, gentle feeling that promised safety, and comfort, and blissful oblivion.

He sank into the warmth, his previous life forgotten.

He was safe. He was loved.

And he was so very tired…

Alduin closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

The madgod nudged his left foot forward and angled his body slightly to the right. A subtle change, but one that added a tense aggressiveness to his stance. The Daedra noticed this hostile movement, and its lips pulled back in a smile.

“You seem anxious, my friend. But why, pray tell? You’ve nothing to fear from the likes of me. Unless of course, you have something to hide.”

“Anxious? Don’t be ridiculous! Embarrassed is closer to the truth! To have such a distinguished guest pop in with no time to prepare, why it’s simply mortifying! If I’d known you were coming, I’d have made arrangements. The blood of the innocent for you to snack on, or perhaps a table of disembodied limbs? I mean, what do you get for the Daedra who has everything? Hmm, let me rephrase that. For the Daedra who hates everything!”

It sneered. “And here I assumed you might somehow be an improvement over your predecessor. Yet you hide behind the same mask of japes and foolishness as did he. Cowardly and disgusting behavior for one that would call himself a god.”

It was only centuries of practice at maintaining that ‘mask of foolishness’ that kept Sheogorath from attacking the Daedra then and there. But he couldn’t give in. That was exactly what it wanted. For him to lose control, to become vulnerable. So instead of putting his fist through its damnable face, he smiled all the wider.

“Well, I AM a god of madness, you know. So if I’m madder than he was, I would say that does make me an improvement. Better madman equals better madgod, wouldn’t you think? Although, knowing how mad I am wouldn’t make me very mad at all, now would it? If I’m sane enough to know how mad I am, than I can’t very well…”

“Enough,” hissed the Daedra as it took a single, harsh step forward. Sheogorath did not flinch, but his fingers curled as if gripping an invisible weapon.

“You seek to distract me, to fool me into accepting this façade you’ve woven around yourself. But I know what you were, what you STILL are.” It smiled at him, but its eyes were as lifeless and hollow as an empty skull.

“We all know.”

It was only through sheer will that Sheogorath kept his expression neutral. Some measure of shock must have slipped through, because the Daedra’s smile widened, and it stepped closer.

“Just as I know that your very essence departed Mundus a short time ago. It went not to Nirn, nor to another sphere of Oblivion. No, it vanished entirely.”

So, that’s what this was about, Sheogorath realized. “You’ve been spying on me.”

The Daedra smiled and waited.

“And if you know that I left,” Sheogorath said, his voice growing firmer. “Then you know that I was summoned.”

“That’s why you’re here,” he finally concluded. “It’s because I was called by Akatosh, is it not?”

The Daedra’s lip curled slightly at the name. “Indeed. Our most hated enemy, to whom your mortal counterpart was once so loyal, spirits you away to a place where my eyes cannot follow. Surely, you can understand my concern.”

Sheogorath faked a laugh, knowing full-well how dire of a situation he was in. This was obviously not a social call; the Daedra seemed to think he had slighted it in some way. He needed to find out how.

“It sounds to me as though I’ve already been judged,” he said. “So why don’t you save us both some time and tell me just what I’m being accused of?”

The Daedra’s smile twisted. “Then you admit to consorting with the Aedra? To betraying your fellow lords?”

Sheogorath snapped. With two long strides he closed the distance and gave it a vicious shove to the chest. The Daedra stumbled back and fell to the floor. It looked up at him in fury, but he was already speaking before it could retaliate.

“I betrayed nothing! In case you’ve forgotten, you paranoid fool, I was summoned!” Sheogorath’s hands were clenched into fists, his face red with anger. “I never had a choice in the matter! So why don’t you stop wasting my time? You think I’ve been up to something, well spit it out!”

“So you do have some spine.” The Daedra stood and crossed its arms. “Very well, I shall speak plainly. Centuries ago, I charged my mortal servants with a task, one that would greatly extend my influence within Tamriel. But my plans were delayed, foiled by traitors in the ranks. Now, my agents are all but ready.”

It leaned in towards him, close enough that Sheogorath could smell the carrion stink wafting from its mouth.

“So I find it quite… troubling that one of my kinsmen has been summoned away. Could it be that the Nine Divines have caught wind of my plan? Did they seek to interrogate you to learn of my designs? Or have they known all along, and only now given orders to you, their faithful dog, to take up arms to impede me?”

Sheogorath resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Talk about being needlessly obscure! All the same, he knew that the situation was on the edge of a knife. One wrong word might set the Daedra off. Steadying his breathing and heart rate, he focused on making his voice as calm and level as possible.

“Whatever schemes you might have, I assure you they have not been discovered. Akatosh summoned me to aid him in a personal matter, and I was dismissed shortly after fulfilling my task.”

It scowled, obviously annoyed at being on the receiving end of a vague response. “Then what was this task? Explain why he summoned you,” it demanded.

“Oh for the love of… he needed help containing Alduin! The dragon was running amok, and he couldn’t stop him alone,” Sheogorath growled, hoping that the truth would finally placate the Daedra.

“Lies,” the Daedra said. “Alduin is dead! His bones lay piled in Sovngarde, and his soul rots within that pitiful ‘Dragonborn!’”

Sheogorath feigned a yawn. “Now, see, I might be inclined to believe you if I hadn’t faced him down myself. Was almost swallowed whole as a matter of fact. Also drooled on, but I’d rather not talk about that. So while it gives me immeasurable pleasure to tell you that you’re wrong, I’m afraid Alduin is alive and well. I swear to you, that’s the truth.”

He could tell the Daedra wasn’t buying it. If he didn’t figure something out fast, this was going to end in bloodshed. He thought furiously, trying to come up with some way of satisfying it. If he could only give it some kind of proof…

Wait, proof! That was it! Lifting his hand, he summoned the Wabbajack. The Daedra leapt back, claws extending as it dropped into a ready crouch.

Not good! He’d acted too hastily and given the appearance of initiating combat. Sheogorath lifted his hands and beseeched the Daedra to wait.

“Whoa, whoa! Calm down a second! I know what this looks like, but I don’t want to start anything.” The Daedra curled its lip, still ready to pounce.

Sheogorath persisted. “I’m serious! You wanted the truth, right? Well, that’s why I summoned this. I used it to subdue Alduin. Check it yourself, you’ll see I’m not lying!”

Warily, the Daedra straightened up. Extending an arm, its fingers curled open and waited. Sheogorath tossed it the staff.

The Daedra cupped its palm over the staff’s tip, giving off a black, fetid glow. Its eyes closed as it latched onto the staff’s energy, searching for the last creature it had struck.

Sheogorath watched, idly entertaining the thought of attacking while its guard was down. Before he could act on the temptation, the Daedra pulled the staff away with a gasp of exertion. The magical glow diffused, and it panted for breath.

“So it is true… Alduin lives. I never imagined that this chance would come.”

“You saw it then,” Sheogorath asked. “Saw why I was there, what I was doing, who I was doing it to?”

“Yes,” the Daedra said. “Forgive me, I was wrong to doubt you.” Still looking down, it tossed the staff back. Sheogorath caught and dispelled the artifact, silently hoping that maybe now it would be satisfied and get the hell out of his realm.

Somehow, he doubted he’d be so lucky.

“I wonder, madgod, if you might reveal the path to this new world.” It turned to face him, and he could see a hungry gleam in its eyes. “I would quite like to see this new form of Alduin’s for myself. Pay him my regards.”

Pay him regards? Not likely. Whatever this Daedra wanted with Alduin, Sheogorath knew it couldn’t be anything good. Just letting it into that world would be a nightmare in itself. It looked like a good time to start playing the fool.

Sheogorath tapped his chin and tried to at least pretend he was giving the matter some thought.

“Well, see, that’s the problem. I’d love to tell you, but I’m afraid I don’t know myself!” He gave the Daedra a wide, idiotic smile.

“I was summoned, remember? One minute I’m sitting here watching seashells dance, the next I’m poofed off to some faraway land being asked to downsize a dragon. So I’ve no idea where it is! It could be half a mile east of Apocrypha! Maybe two doors down from Evergloam? You might even have to dig through a river of sludge in the Scuttling Void to find it.”

It shook its head, chuckling. “Sheogorath, what do you take me for? In centuries past, when you first took the mantle of Daedra, I might have believed such a lie. But you have occupied this throne long enough to know the music of the spheres.”

It gestured to the room around them. “Your realm chimes with the duality of your own nature. The high tones of mania, the deep chords of dementia. You have heard their song for two hundred years. Even one as simple as you could not remain ignorant of their presence.”

Sheogorath tensed. His bluff had been called. There was no point in lying further.

“So it is with all realms. Boethiah’s rings like the clashing of blades. Mephala’s hums with rumors and untold secrets. This world too, must possess a resonance all its own. I know you must have heard it, no matter how brief your visit was.”

Well, he was stuck. His options were down to acceptance or denial.

Its eyes drilled into him like a hunter approaching its quarry. “And I know you can hear it even now, calling out from the black. You could find it with ease, if you so wished. So I ask once again, will you teach me its melody?”

Sheogorath considered this. Obviously the Daedra had encountered Alduin in the past, and was obsessed with tracking him down once again. Providing his location would likely place Alduin and his new home in tremendous danger. On the other hand, refusing would likely push the already unstable Daedra completely over the edge, thus placing his entire realm in danger of utter annihilation.

So it was between selling out a baby dragon, or jumping headlong into a brawl to the death? Sheogorath didn’t have to think twice.

“No.”

The Daedra’s smile vanished, and it bared its fangs. “Perhaps I did not make my request clear?”

“Oh, you made yourself perfectly clear,” Sheogorath interrupted. “I’m just refusing. What’s more, I’m telling you to shut up.”

“I warn you, I am in no mood for your japes,” it said, face twisting with rage.

“No, I warn you,” Sheogorath spat back. “I’m perfectly serious. Maybe it’s nostalgia for my heroic deeds of old. Maybe it’s some unquenchable loyalty to Akatosh. Maybe it’s just the fact that I like being an unhelpful bastard. But regardless of motive, you’re still not getting my help.”

“And why not!? What has the Aedra done that deserves such loyalty?”

Sheogorath was furious. “And just what have YOU done that deserves a damned thing? Let’s get something straight. I don’t owe you my cooperation. I don’t owe you my friendship. Hell, I don’t even owe you my basest hospitality! As a matter of fact, back when I was toadying around for all of you in my mortal days, you were the one I hated the most!”

Sheogorath could tell that he’d burned his last bridge. The Daedra was nearly frothing at the mouth, its voice laced with barely controlled rage.

“I swear to you, madgod, that I will have Alduin’s whereabouts. Unless you recant, I will take what you know by force.”

Sheogorath shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “Oh, you’re welcome to try. Just don’t take offense if I dice you to bits and then piss on your ashes.”

It was trembling now, its face twisted in hate. Mentally preparing himself for what was sure to come, Sheogorath leaned in and whispered.

“Well? Come for me then. We both know that you want to.”

Its look of anger vanished. The Daedra smiled at him, showing all its teeth.

“So be it.”

A pair of taloned fists struck with the force of battering rams. Sheogorath was flung back across the room, through the crumbling throne, through the splintering tree, and finally smashing through the wall of the palace.

The Daedra followed like a shadow of death.

Draconic Translations:

Strun Bah Qo-

Storm, Wrath, Lightning (Draconic shout for creating a thunderstorm)

Lok Vah Koor-

Sky, Spring, Summer (Draconic shout for clearing the skies)

Zu’u Alduin. Kinbok do Dov. Vahlok do Keizaal-

I am Alduin. Leader of Dragonkind. Guardian of Skyrim.

So. Three months.

Three. Fucking. Months.

I'm pissed at myself for taking so long with this one. Difficult chapter to write? Sure. Tons of RL shit having to be dealt with? Yea. But still, a delay like this feels inexcusable to me.

My deepest apologies to anyone I might have kept waiting. I sincerely hope you enjoy this installment.

(PS- If there's any extreme grammar or spelling errors, please let me know so I can fix. Proofread, edited and posted at about 4:15 am, so I might not have caught everything.)