The Prophet: Prologue

• Posted by Clement Bilhorn August 3, 2013 - 792 views

  

  "You there. With the beard."

  "What?" he says, turning. He stops. Frowns. "Who are you?"

  "That house there. The one you just passed. Do you know who lives there?"

  "You don't? Everyone does."

  "All the same, I'd appreciate it if you told me."

  "The Dragonborn." His frown deepens.

  "What can you tell me about him?"

  "Same as anyone will. He's a lizard. A Daedra worshiper. A vampire. But he helped the Empire put down the Stormcloaks, and some say he's killed dragons." He pauses. "They say he married a vampire, too."

  "And where is he now?"

  

  "Honeymoon."

  

  Dovahkiin...

  The name speaks reality, like all words in your kind's tongue. The same for all who bear such a title. To be Dovahkiin is to endure. To exist, more fully and truly than anything in this world. 
  

  

  You say "life", and there is life. You say "death", and there is death. Other people beg, wheedle, plead, and flatter. You command.

  So it's only natural that you tend to make enemies everywhere you go. When truths disagree, chaos is the only result. 

  

  Miraak needed nothing to draw you to him. He existed, and you came, two bodies pulled inexorably toward each other. Battling across an island wasn't enough for you--only a world made by the Daedra could contain both of you. 

  

  And even then, your two truths still fought, two minds, two men, unable to reconcile their mutual existence. Words found expression in fire and lightning and steel and blood. But in the end, I suspect, it was your singular mastery of the shadows that was Miraak's undoing.

  

  You serve many lords, Dovahkiin--Nocturnal, Molag Bal, now Hermaeus Mora...and not least of all, yourself. But it was Nocturnal's strength that helped you win this fight. 

  Of course, Mora was never truly on Miraak's side to begin with. The Daedra are so, so changeable. Not like you, Dovahkiin. No. 

  

  You endure. Always returning to the same places, the same deeds, the same thoughts, waiting for some new war to bring you out from yourself.

  

  Some things do change, of course. You pull people into your chaos, binding them to your truth. In small measures you ensnared the Legion, in greater the Thieves, and even more so the Brotherhood. Them, you cast off on a whim. So rudely, they might have preferred death over your disapproval.

  But bound strongest of all is your wife, a creature so rare that your union was inevitable. For her, perhaps, you feel some loyalty borne out of something other than respect for power.

  

  And so the storm subsides, the tide withdraws, the sun sets, and you return to Skyrim, to what you now call your home, surrounded by people who cannot decide whether to hate, fear, or worship you.

  

  I ask you, Dovahkiin: Are you, yet, at peace? A man so layered in immortality as yourself is extraordinary. You need extraordinary pursuits to satisfy you and you surround yourself with extraordinary people. It is only fitting that you have extraordinary enemies.

  So I tell you--you will not find peace.

  

  You are not the only truth in the world. The world rejects you. You've overcome nothing in this world, only cleaned it of the people like you. Made room for yourself. 

  But if you were able to kill Alduin, Harkon, and Miraak, mighty beings all, what makes you think you, too, will be spared? There are many truths, Dovahkiin, and you are only one. 

  

  And this I tell you...

  

  ...I will make you a lie.