Scarlet Scale

The trail's steps were wide thankfully, but encrusted as they were with ice, we still needed to be careful with our footing. Belethor was honest about his staves, no matter how expensive he priced them, they were keeping us warm as we climbed. There were a few wolves, but so far no trolls.

Another plinth appeared around the bend. I still didn't know how these were connected to my mysterious previous life, but I felt compelled to read each one. I crunched my way through the snow, and read it aloud.

"Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied mortalkind

Together they taught mortals to use the Voice

Then Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue"

'Kyne again...' I thought. I felt a strange sort of pride at seeing this "Paarthurnax" mentioned, as though of how I felt about a close friend, but even closer in bond than I felt about Lydia. 'So, he kept his word...'

I didn't even question why I would have a thought like that, I obviously had 'other' memories, of another life. What frustrated me now, was that I couldn't seem to bring them more closer to my conscious understanding. So much that I did not know about myself. Who I was, what I did before, but if my dreams, and these new revelations about my being dragonborn were part of those answers the Hist told me to seek, then I was a dragon. Even now, I still AM a dragon, but only wearing the shape of an argonian woman.

We seemed to have gone only a quarter of the way up the mountain, but the sun was already at its own peak in the sky. I wondered for another uncounted time, just how tall this mountain actually was, and continued crunching our way through the snow. My housecarl and I began to see a spot where the rock was broken down the middle, and the trail led through the cleft.

Although Lydia had assured me that no bandit would really be able to set up any ambush here, because all the Jarls would be enraged at the gall of someone violating the sanctity of their culture's Greybeards, and thus hunt down such a fool until they were either dead or to have escaped Skyrim never to return. But the rocky cleft still felt like a perfect spot to ambush someone in the cold. Whatever might be there, If not a bandit, would be a wild predator.

I told Lydia to be quiet, as I wanted to see if I could use my argonian breathing exercise as effectively in the cold as it was the swamps of Blackmarsh. If it worked, then I could track it down without alerting the animal, and then we could ambush it instead. The wind was blowing towards us out of the cleft, and so our scents weren't being carried to it. I took off my daedric helmet, and breathed the air deeply.

I could taste the pine, the stone, of a recently passed deer... and... blood. Something else foul too...

Troll.

I motioned with my hand, and Lydia walked over slowly.

"I smelled a troll." I whispered to her. "It's probably waiting just behind or above the rocks. One of us needs to keep it's attention focused on the trail, so that while its distracted, the other can let loose a volley of arrows towards the creature's side. I'm already wearing my powerful ebony armor with my daedric helmet, so I could distract it, but how are you with the bow?"

"Oh thank you my Th- er, Scarlet." She pulled out her hunting bow, it looked like a simple weapon made of yew and strung with... cured horse-gut maybe? "As a guardswoman, I was constantly practicing with my archery every day for a hour while off duty. I'm certain I could hit the beast, but trolls have thick hides, I don't think my steel arrows will be enough."

"Yes." I agreed, and pulled out a vial of one of my poisons. "Trolls are immune to most poisons, but this one, I rendered from troll fat that was purposely left in a glass jar and its openings covered over with canvas. I had left a whole slaughterfish in it too, so that the toxins from it mingled with the troll fat. Admittedly, I don't know how it works when other poisons like nightshade fail, but it does for trolls. Dip the tips in the holes of the vial, and then take a position to a side. I'll walk in, while you keep your arrows ready."

"Yes my Scarlet."

Proud as I was of Lydia, I concentrated on listening for what side he'd flank us, walking in. The rocky ledges were large enough on both sides to hide the troll behind either, but the one on the right had a big enough overhang that the troll could be up there without being seen. I started focusing on that side, and then just as I saw it, it saw me.

The animal roared and jumped down, I backed up. The beast charged, but as it left from the wall, an arrow flicked into it's arm. This prompted a howl of pain, and it turned to face her, but its movements already seemed slower. Lydia sent another flying into its head, the troll roared defiantly, but it was coughing on its own blood now. We both backed up, while the predator struggled against the effects of the poison.

As it collapsed, Lydia walked over.

"Are we going to collect anything from it? The Jarls will pay bounties for hides, and the Alchemists are always happy to buy their fat, eyes, or teeth."

"If not for the urgency I feel in seeking the Greybeards, I would. Maybe we can when we go back down. Come, let us resume our climb."

We marched on, the snow was sparser on this side, as it felt like the wind scoured the rock. After another hour, another plinth. The sun was drooping lower in the sky, but I could still read the ancient words.

"With roaring tongues, the Sky-Children

conquer.

Founding the First Empire with Sword and

Voice.

Whilst the Dragons withdrew from this World."

Somehow I felt both angry and resigned to this. I wasn't sure exactly who these "Sky-Children" were but somehow I suspected it was referring to the Nords. Or mortals in general. I was starting to get an idea about how events of dragons related to me. If I truly had the soul of a dragon, then this idea of dragons being forced to withdraw, was like the old stories of when the dark elves raided Blackmarsh's border with their land, Morrowwind, for capturing us as slaves. I know that if someone tried capturing me as a slave, they would have to kill me before I would ever submit. I never gave up on anything before. Thus being forced into slavery seemed like the greatest reason to be defiant, but if I was actually a dragon wearing argonian flesh, then I was also feeling a strange kinship with creatures I never really remembered, at least not in this mortal life.

"The sun," I said "is going down soon, and the wind feels stronger on this side, so rather than face it along with the early night, let's just make camp here. There seems to be enough deadwood amongst these stunted trees."

An hour later, we were both seated in my roomy fur tent, the fire starting to eagerly consume the wood and dried grasses that we fed into it. As I started eating some more of my jerky, I thought about what my past life as a dragon might have been like. The dragon I saw attacking Helgen, somehow I knew his name, and the one I killed was "Mirmulnir." If I apparently was a dragon, then I also had to have been named as a dragon, but I still had no idea what that name was, or exactly what my experiences were like, as a dragon. But if I was a dragon in a past life, then I must have been slain for my soul to find its way into a new mortal life, and perhaps... surely the body from my previous life was interred somewhere in Nirn. Most likely as it seemed, somewhere in Skyrim.

"Lydia," I asked, "do your people have tales of where the slain dragons are buried?"

"Of course." She answered, while caressing my back, tracing along my spine's scales. "The dragon mounds, I remember there's one on the hills just above Rorikstead, and another next to one of the roads to Windhelm."

"I must visit these. I believe now, that in ancient years long passed, I was actually one of the dragons, I have had dreams like memories of flight, of fighting in ways that surely meant I was controlling a massive, powerful body, more so than this one. I saw..."

I then dug around in my pack for an old worn journal I kept. Thumbing through the pages, I found a dream I had when only four years old, and read it aloud, trusting my journal's privacy to the loyalty of my Housecarl's loving affection for me.

"My Mother had wrote this down in her journal when I told her about the dreams. Later as she and the village elders taught me how to read and write, she used her journal to help me. 'Scarlet was dreaming again, of flying, swooping proudly through the sky. She had said she had somewhere she wanted to go, and had been getting close. In some time after the dream started, she had flown over some farms, and was hovering in front of a temple's stones. Many people were gathered in their finest, all arranged to face her, but her attention was focused on one who stood, according to her, on a narrow balcony jutting out from the temple's main structure. Scarlet said the figure was strangely dressed, but familiar to her from the dream. She said that the other person spoke, something about the people, but she can't remember any of the words, only some vague meanings. Another of whatever kind of creature she was had snatched up a few cows for amusement, I think. The people were asking her, through the priest, for a response to the creature's actions. But then it had faded as she woke up.' These sorts of experiences were always a mystery to me as I grew up, but maybe it was wise of the Hist and my parents to keep me from learning its nature too fast until I grew up, so I could handle what I could as I matured. I still seethed with anger and frustration about the secrets being kept from me, though."

"Much of Skyrim's ancient past is not known to me." Lydia commented. "But my ancestors, in seeking explanations for things they didn't understand, they regarded the animals as the spirits responsible for the different aspects of their world. These became what the Nords now view as the great Divines, but chief among the Gods, or animal spirits were the dragons, ruled over by the chief of the Divines, Akatosh. The old tales my father told me said the great dragon god had intended his children to rule over the mortals with benevolent wisdom, because as mortals passed in life, and new youth sprang up to their places, even if the elders kept the wisdom alive, the new generations would still have the personal wisdom themselves until they saw it for themselves. But the dragons, they would live forever, never forgetting, never losing their wisdom."

"Why did the two I have seen attack and destroy then?"

"I'll get to that." Lydia answered "The men and women, they still needed someone to speak for them to the dragons they worshipped. I have not heard anything about what their names were, but they led the people in worship of the dragons and the other animals of the world. They were rewarded for their service, being in effect, as kings over the people. If you were a dragon, then I think that figure you saw was a priest or priestess who served as a messenger between you and the people who probably worshipped you specifically as their local dragon deity. From what more of the tales I have heard, and of the plinths here, after some time had passed of the dragons ruling over the mortals, they had become arrogant, overly proud of themselves; always seeking after more power, more strength. Men, elves and beastfolk alike, all became subject to the dragons as little more than slaves, ground into whatever the dragons wanted them to be, until happiness was a distant memory. When it became too much to bear, the mortals rebelled, but every time, it was swiftly punished. Finally, Akatosh and the other Divines decided that the mortals' agony demanded intervention, so Kyne, or Kynareth, as the Imperials call her, she found a way for any mortal to 'shout' as the dragons, but this meant many years of training. Even Akatosh himself would bless a single unborn infant, giving him or her a dragon's soul for the infant's life essence, and having a dragon's meant, as it does for you, my Love, my... Thane," Lydia gushed, "that you don't need long years of training. With their aid, and the skill in spell, and blade, mortals drove back their former masters. Then they grew into the kingdoms of today, but losing much of their ancient histories in forgetfulness, and over the centuries going by."

We stared quietly into the fire, Lydia still casually rubbing my spine, I still enjoying it, but our thoughts were of a different age right now. If dragons were always seeking some new strength, new power, and always wanting to enjoy using it, then this explained why I was always feeling the same. My soul was a dragon's. I had to admit now, that I WANTED power, strength, to dominate with my will. I enjoyed it. I also enjoyed Lydia's open admiration and seemingly uncanny new sense of loyalty to me, even of us having more than one spouse together.

"Lay back," I ordered, "I want to enjoy you again."

"Yes, my Thane." Lydia said proudly "I LOVE serving you."

I smiled as I turned to her, lifting up my now bared breast. While I started sliding my cleft's lips against hers, I whispered to her as she eagerly drank my milk.

"Drink my greenish cream Lydia. It's surely true that I am... ahhh... a... dragon in my soul. I WANT power, as I want you and your love. You told me earlier during our night in the Bannered Mare, how you felt about vampires, and I argued that she merely needed to feed, but not cause the destruction that fear of them evokes. In a way, I... ohhhh... Lydia... I... wonder if a dragon feels the same way, needing to live on power and... strength to..."

I didn't finish, because Lydia moved her mouth over to lock with mine, to feel the pleasure of my rough tongue pushing down into hers. She tasted of my milk mixed with the honey-filled mead she had drank as we had climbed the steps. I lost track of time as we built up to our mutual orgasms, and then she came first, suddenly biting onto my other nipple as she drank fiercely.

"I love you too, Lydia." I whispered, and then started suckling just as fiercely at her nipple, enjoying the milk tinged with a bit of her blood. Soon I climaxed as well, quickly turning around so that she could taste me while I tasted her, then we simply stayed like that, licking and sucking at each other. The furs were rippling to our rhythm, as she rubbed my tail, coiled as it was on her arm. For my part, I was pleasantly surprised to find her G-spot within much easier reach of my strong tongue than that of other women I had enjoyed intimacy with. We huffed in unison together, our speed and tempo feeding back into each other from the stimulation we gave each other. Time lost all meaning then, there was only Lydia and I, nothing else was important. I knew that she was experiencing it the same way.

As the morning greeted us, we were still going, joined together with my enchanted oaken rod. I did love my sister VERY much for having created it for me. But after some time, we worked our ways towards a final climax, which amusingly, happened for us at the exact same time. We panted, gathering up our dried horker meat and waterskins.

After breakfast, we dressed in our armor, and shoved a pile of snow into what was left of the firepit. There weren't any more trolls or even any wolves as we walked, but plenty of crag-hopping goats. Before the morning was over we started seeing the Greybeards' monastery among the misty drifts. I found the last of the plinths and read it.

"The Voice is Worship

Follow the Inner path

Speak only in True Need"

Then my eyes refocused, and I looked at Lydia.

"So, this is it then?"

"I'm sure it is," she replied, "but I never really made the pilgrimage myself. This is a tremendous honor for us both."

I quietly nodded, and remembering the promise to Klimmek, I pulled out his full pouch, apparently he was supposed to leave it in the large chest, then leave. But that made no sense to me, after climbing all that way up such a tall mountain just to be a nice guy, leave some food and then go? Even if not for seeing the inside of the monastery, or talking with the reclusive Greybeards, one should at least eat some food while resting there. But I did have business with the Greybeards. So I reached inside the large chest, grabbing Klimmek's other, empty pouch and then walked up the snowdusted steps.

After closing the heavy iron door, we took a moment to gaze around. A massive stone structure, with blocks bigger than I was, lit with torchlight, candles, and one huge firepit. There was an old man who had a weathered appearance reflecting the mountain on which his lodge sat. He was kneeling on the rough floor, clearly in deep meditation.

Before I barely walked any closer to him, he rose up and walked up to me with a swiftness well hidden in his ancient-looking body.

"So," he said in a rumbly voice "the cycles of time have swept along, and now the dragonborn appears to us again at the passing in this age. Greetings to you both, my name is Arngeir."

Something confused me.

"If you live all the way up here, then how did you know I killed the dragon?"

"Ah," he replied with a bemused smile "many things that are known to us, are not known to you, especially in matters of dragons. Come, we already know why you are here, but surely you would like to sit down after the climb, and you probably have some questions important to you."

"Very well, lead the way."

He led us over to another room where there were books on shelves, some bread, and we sat down at his table.

"First," I said as I laid Klimmek's supply pouch on the table, "the Nord I promised to bring this up for, he said the climb was feeling harder on him than usual. Now my questions. I understand that instead of an ordinary mortal's soul, I have a dragon's, but why? I have had dreams of seems like my previous life as a dragon, but no specific clues about which one I was, or where. Can you help me?"

"In answer to your first question," Arngeir replied, "all dragonborn have been born into the world for a specific purpose. The most famous of which was of Tiber Septim, or 'Talos,' as the traditional nordic name. His was to end the petty wars and battles amongst the feuding regional lords, by settling the matter his way, through organized military force. His Empire's citizens were well known for allowed to freely express themselves, and the pursuit of law did not hinder justice, but served it fairly. But before he became the Emperor, he was only a youth, just starting out with his way into the world. History has forgotten how he found out his soul's nature, but our ancient predecessors welcomed him here, and showed him as best as they could, true strength is not only in the body, but in the spirit. In the heart. He found his purpose in what he did for his people. Your purpose is not clear to us yet, but we will do as best we can to help you find it. As to the other questions you asked about your previous life, although I speak for the Greybeards, I can only guess that as a dragon, you may have been slain during the 'Dragon Wars.' A time when mortals rose up against the dragons, and dragon also raged against dragon."

"Please tell me then, all you know about that time."

"Yes," he seemed a little irritated, but continued "it was a dark time in Skyrim's history. The dragons, as some might have said, became cruel, arrogant masters of the mortals. The cults dedicated to their worship administered over the mortals with an iron fist in the dragons' name. Rebellion was swiftly punished, but after a time, even their father, great Akatosh had to intervene. He and Kyne, Goddess Mother from the sky, they showed men and elves how to fight the dragons. This resulted in terrible battles, but the dragons led by Alduin ultimately lost. There were also some few dragons, who in their concern for the mortals they ruled, sided with them and against the other dragons. Dragon fought dragon, but none could face Alduin and survive, it seemed. After a time, he suddenly vanishes from the record of time. We do not know what happened exactly, only that history did not have any more account of him. But that changed now, we have felt his presence, heard his shouts at the foot of this mountain."