The Hero of Bowerstone

“I’ll be fine,” She smiles, kissing his cheek, “I didn’t miss you tossing and turning.” Sparrow drops her voice, “What about Mordred? Should I take him?”

Zoe balances the empty cups on the tray, “Er, I have a hunch my sister will be here soon. Probably morning, but knowing her, she’ll be here before sunrise. She knows where to find me, but just be ready if she wants to talk to you first.” She shrugs, in a very “you know it is” kind of way.

Garth glances at Mordred speculatively; he seemed restive, as if building a frenetic web in his mind. After the night they’d just had, he can only imagine. “Mm. Leave him be for now. I think he has his own searching to do.” He’s pretty sure Mordred will get into something he’s not supposed to, but he also thinks that’s part of the design. The air of inevitability was thick around him.

“White dragon,” Mordred mutters after Zoe’s spoken, his hands wringing impatiently as if he’s trying to understand something. “Throat of the World. Here. Both. Where am I?” A groan of frustration.

Sparrow nods to Garth in reply, still hesitant to leave Mordred alone, but trusting her husband’s instincts. He’ll find one of them if he needs to. She follows Zoe, making small talk. “Sounds like you and your sister are close?”

“Oh, yes! She’s my closest friend. It’s been hard being in Skyrim with her but not being able to stay with her. Do you have children? But you’re in a whole different world...”

“Two, they’re grown now, a son and a daughter. I don’t think they’d like all this cold, or the act of travel itself. They can handle themselves, but I’d like to get us back as quickly as possible. It’s not them I worry about in my kingdom.” Sparrow had a feeling that court intrigue was a constant across all levels. So the conversation continued until Zoe lead her to a small room partway up what looked to be an outer wall.

“It’s not much, but it’s more private than the Inn. I’m four doors down on the left if you need anything, are you all set?”

“We do have a bit of a family history of that,” Zoe says, “Our several-times great-grandmother was the right hand of Martin Septim during the Oblivion crisis when Mehrunes Dagon tried to take over. He’s another daedric prince,” She adds, once again leaving out a big detail. Her grandmother was a daedric prince, and as if hearing her thoughts, there’s an itch on the back of her head. But she’d deal with that when her sister got there.

“Er, yes? Alduin is the world-eater, he destroys Tamriel at the end of time so it can be reborn. He decided he wanted to rule it instead, so my sister was born to stop him.”

“I wonder what these corrupt forces would even do with a world if they managed to conquer it,” Garth mutters dryly, thinking of the Corruptor and its agents. “I imagine they’d just get bored if they actually won.”

His eyebrow quirks at her elaboration. “And that is… common knowledge? The awareness of how your world ends and begins? –Mm, better question, if he is stopped, then does that disrupt or complete reality?” He considers for a moment, then snaps back to his original tangent. “I think perhaps your Alduin and Mordred have something in common. Are dragons able to ken universes other than their own?”

Zoe pauses for a moment, “Well, not common knowledge. Most everybody in Skyrim knows that Alduin eats the world, but not too many know about the rebirth part of it. Outside of this room, my sister, the Greybeards, and the dragons...I think only Jarl Ulfric knows about Alduin’s true nature. It’s a bit much for your average person. Everyone just assumes that it’s the end of the world.” Zoe would continue, but a yawn punctuates her speech, and try as she might, she can’t conceal it, “My sister probably has an idea. I don’t think it would be a good thing if he never ate the world, necessarily. And if she doesn’t, Odahviing definitely will.” She doesn’t have an answer for Garth’s last question, but is glad that Savos was able to offer some kind of answer as she finishes her tea, and then scowls.

“There used to be dragons in Albion, but I doubt they were anything like yours,” Sparrow says, “And they haven’t been seen since my ancestors ruled.”

“Well, a dragon is…” Zoe looks like she’s trying to physically rearrange the thoughts hanging above her head to form a simple narrative, “There’s Akatosh, the dragon-god who governs time and is supposed to guard the empire, and all the dragons are his creations, or maybe they’re pieces of the god, we’re not sure. There’s the Dov like Alduin and the one from earlier, big scaly beasts that like to Shout, and they’re either pieces of Akatosh or his children…and then there’s my sister.” Zoe thinks for a long moment, “She’s a dragon, because she’s got a dragon’s soul. But she’s human, too. Akatosh chose her to handle Alduin, the world-eater. She can take the souls of other dragons if she kills them, I don’t know how that works or what she does with them but…” Zoe shrugs, “She doesn’t even fully understand what she is.”

Paarthurnax, Mordred sounds out silently. Three syllables. Dimly, as if through a caul, he sees glyphs sketch themselves, but the more he squints the less he is able to see them. He relaxes with some effort, pretends to forget about it – like one looking away from something in order to see it better in one’s peripheral. The dragon tongue, he remembers suddenly, as if it had been his knowledge from the beginning. But it isn’t. –Not his, as he is now. But his, as he is with <white dragon>.

Paarthurnax is a dragon, he thinks.

Meanwhile, Garth contemplates Zoe’s explanation, with a little difficulty – but not too much. To him, it sounds more straightforward than it probably should. “A mortal heart is a surprisingly useful tool in thwarting the plans of the immortal. Like existing squarely in one’s enemy’s blind spot. –Also, did you say world-eater?”

“We do have a bit of a family history of that,” Zoe says, “Our several-times great-grandmother was the right hand of Martin Septim during the Oblivion crisis when Mehrunes Dagon tried to take over. He’s another daedric prince,” She adds, once again leaving out a big detail. Her grandmother was a daedric prince, and as if hearing her thoughts, there’s an itch on the back of her head. But she’d deal with that when her sister got there.

“My sister,” Zoe says, “The dragonborn. Nobody’s ever called her ‘White Dragon’, though. If you stick around for a few days she’s sure to stop by, she usually makes it up every loredas and stays through sundas night. Is she taking you up the throat of the world?” Zoe’s face changes, to one looking slightly annoyed, “Is she taking you to meet Paarthurnax before she takes me? I guess if it’s another timeline it doesn’t count…”

Dragonborn. A hell of a word, Garth thinks. Born of a dragon? Able to become a dragon? He isn’t entirely sure of the meaning, but he has a suspicion it doesn’t matter – it is a title of power, and if Mordred is [was, will be] in the company of one, then… well, they’d just have to see what happened next.

Mordred stares unblinkingly at Zoe, not comprehending. “What is a Paarthurnax.”

“There used to be dragons in Albion, but I doubt they were anything like yours,” Sparrow says, “And they haven’t been seen since my ancestors ruled.”