Yuvonlaan is a character I invented for a Skyrim mod for the very silly reason that I needed someone willing to buy 30 sets of Thalmor armour, and with enough gold to actually complete the transaction. While working on an update for the mod I ended up recording more dialogue for Yuvonlaan, and this gave me the idea for a new Skyrim fanfic. Hope people find it interesting.

Fahdonmul is the product of far too much time with the Play-As-A-Dragon SE mod, and Yuvonlaan is a dragon merchant I created for "Sweet-Roll-Devour SE".

Fahdonmul icon by  den-99

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Fahdonmul - Yuvonlaan

The dragon gasped as life returned to the ancient bones. He crawled from the grave in an explosion of rocks and debris, flesh still knitting back together with power torn from the souls of the mortal dead.

Vision seeped from the blackness of death to dim grey shapes as the blank eye-sockets of his bare skull were filled, and he once more saw the world clearly for the first time in nearly four thousand years. The brown dragon stared in dawning horror at the spiky black shape hovering above him.

"...Alduin...?" he croaked.

"SAY IT!" the World Eater roared.

"Alduin, my Lord," the dragon grovelled, bowing his head. Alduin stared back at his underling with a look of contempt. "Yuvonlaan, your soul is mine for eternity," he announced. "The time has come to re-establish my ancient dominion, and you are to assist with this."

"What are your orders, Thuri?" the brown dragon sighed. Alduin glowered at him.

"You must have made quite a big impression upon your mortals, that they cared enough to bury one as spineless as you to await my eventual return," the World-Eater growled. "Still, you were always good at logistics. I have need of that skill once more."

"Mmm," the dragon agreed mournfully.

"So! These will be your orders. My old fortress at Skuldafn will need refurbishing," Alduin said. "This and other such sites have been protected from intruders by my draugr slaves. In the likely event that I require an undead army to storm a mortal barricade, you are to ensure that such minions are suitably equipped. Their present armour and weapons are unacceptable, and must be replaced as soon as possible."

"You wish me to forge new armour?" Yuvonlaan looked up at the World-Eater, a glimmer of hope in his eyes for the first time since his death.

"No. That will take too long... You would have to equip a new forge, and we do not have time for that when there is already armour out there for the taking. No, we must strike the joorre hard, before they have time to regroup. And that will need supplies which you are to provide.
"Contact my faithful worshippers at Forelhost and other temples. They should be able to purchase weapons and armour on your behalf, in far larger quantities than you could make yourself in the time available."

"That will cost money, Thuri," Yuvonlaan reminded him. "My lair and its wealth have surely been plundered as spoils following my untimely demise..."

"Once, you were my treasurer," Alduin pointed out. "If death and defeat have not addled your brains, you should remember the location and combination for my vault. Use the gold from area three to make the purchases. And do not mess this up, or it will be my teeth to your neck," the World-Eater added. "And your soul to my belly."

"Mmm," Yuvonlaan said fearfully. "It shall be done, my lord!"

"Good. Now go! I have already told you this is urgent."

* * *

Not long afterwards, Yuvonlaan entered the secret chamber below Skuldafn, where Alduin's reserves of gold and treasure had been stored. Before the Dragon War, servants and willing worshippers of the dov had constructed magnificent edifices... Barrows for the dead, ancient chambers for the Dragon Priests and places of worship - now, legacies of a bygone time. Without draconic aid, the Nords had built little more than wooden huts for the next few thousand years, their wondrous civilisation obliterated by their own actions and reduced to base savagery.

Here, in one of the old ruins, Yuvonlaan tugged and twisted colossal stone pillars, gigantic versions of the combination stones that protected the barrows, but scaled up such that no mortal could move them unaided. But a dragon could.

Finally, the door slid open. Yuvonlaan spat a gob of fire at one of the braziers, casting dim light upon the antechamber, and he drew in a breath. The sight of gold had always thrilled him, and that indeed was his name - "Wants Gold" in the mortal tongue.
Most of the dov loved to fight and conquer, but in the end they were all individuals, and the thrill of slaying appealed to some more than others. Some dragons found that riches and shiny things gave the same joy that others found in battle, and their loyalty could be bought if they were given tributes or payment. Yuvonlaan was one of these, and had greatly enjoyed it when the mortals of Atmora had done so in the early days of the cults.

But now was not the time to admire Alduin's hoard. He took what he needed for the mission, vanishing it into a dimensional backpack, and closed the vault back up, heading for the ancient fortress of Forelhost.

* * *

Yuvonlaan had several shocks awaiting him when he reached his destination. "Go to Forelhost and contact the Dragon Cult," Alduin had said. The brown dragon had lived to see the sacking of Bromjunaar, and the fall of the capital was one of the things which had motivated him to try and flee - only to be downed and finished off by crowing, triumphant mortals... Put to death by their cruel steel even as he had begged them to spare his life. Even then, as the Nords burned and pillaged their own land, the cultists at Forelhost had remained loyal. With an icy chill running down his long spine, Yuvonlaan realised that it had almost certainly been agents of Forelhost who had ensured his own preservation and burial.

Now, the ancient fortress had fallen into disrepair, at least one of the surrounding walls had collapsed, and within the courtyard, some squatter had set up a tent. The dragon landed on the archway that covered the entrance, and fixed the rude dwelling with a beady eye.

"You there, mortal!" he boomed. "As an officer of Alduin the Magnificent, I require your assistance to complete my mission!"

"AAHHH!" Captain Valmir yelped, poking his face out of the tent curtains. "I'm not sticking around to fight a dragon!" he squeaked, and fled into one of the watchtowers, hoping the gigantic terror would not be able to reach inside and crush him.

Yuvonlaan sighed. He had clung to a tiny hope that the intruder was a descendant of the cultists, but he knew he had been lying to himself and would now have to accept the truth - the last bastion of the Dragon Cults had been overrun, and the faithful slain - most likely thousands of years past.

He landed on the tower that the mortal was hiding inside. "Come out, mortal!" he barked. "Or stay put. But tell me one thing - What became of the Cultists? Do any survive...?"

"I don't know!" the High Elf quailed. "The forces of King Harald crushed the stragglers here in the First Era, and it has been haunted ever since! I was sent here to investigate the fortress and locate an ancient artifact!"

"Ruth!" Yuvonlaan swore. "Ruth, ruth, ruth!" The terrified elf had a momentary urge to ask who "Ruth" was, but instead remained silent, fearing to provoke the dragon. He curled up, protecting his head with his hands, and waited for the end. Instead, there was a rush of wings as Yuvonlaan took off and landed at the word-wall nearby.

"How in Bormahu's name am I going to do this?" he muttered to himself. "Where am I going to get weapons and armour...?"

His reverie was interrupted by a ghostly figure yelling imprecations at him, and waving a large, impressive sword. Yuvonlaan cursed and enveloped the ghost in a thick sheet of flame, burning a foe for the first time in many eras. The ghostly paladin yelled and ran, but eventually circled back and waved his sword at the dragon again with suicidal bravado. Yuvonlaan preferred gold to violence, but it didn't mean he was bad at it and soon the undead warrior had been reduced to a pile of ectoplasm.
In the courtyard, Captain Valmir had crept back towards his tent. Yuvonlaan glanced at him once, and then turned his attention back to the fallen warrior's sword.

"Hoo," he said to himself, inspecting it keenly. "Impressive. Chrysamere, if I am not mistaken. Truly a collector's piece! Anyway, if I can't get armour from Forelhost, I will have to get it elsewhere." So saying, he took to the skies.

* * *

Inquisitor Ryandil marched past Riften, prisoner in tow. He smiled to himself, considering how he would spend the bonus for meeting his quota of suspected Stormcloak allies and sympathisers. They were paid by the head - whether the individual was truly a Stormcloak or not mattered little. Once they were safely in the Thalmor bastion of Northwatch Keep, most people confessed under torture anyway. And the few that didn't would end up the same - standing on a rickety chair with a noose around their neck, and after that they wouldn't be in any position to dispute the official findings.

As if sensing his fate, the prisoner suddenly jumped aside, rolling off the path and screaming wildly about his false god, Talos.

"Seize him, you idiots!" Ryandil yelled at the guards. One of them glanced back at him and froze. "D-d-duh..." he gurgled, as a large shadow passed over the inquisitor.

"D-Dragon!" the guard screamed.

Yuvonlaan turned hard, landing in front of them with what he hoped was a winning smile.

"Mortals!" he boomed. "I need your armour, your boots and your weaponry!"

The inquisitor blinked rapidly, wondering if he'd heard correctly.

"Your armour, boots and weaponry," the dragon repeated. "Please...?"

"Kill it!" the inquisitor shrieked. Yuvonlaan grimaced, and then hissed with pain as a lightning spell hit him. "Die, dragon!" Ryandil crowed triumphantly. This, it turned out, would be his final words - just before he was bitten in half by an angry dragon with a horribly meaty-sounding crunch.

Scant minutes later, a ragged figure was seen running, hands bound, into the forest in the rough direction of Windhelm. Overhead, a dragon flew off in the opposite direction, bearing several sets of gilded armour in his feet as his ill-gotten prize.

* * *

Many weeks and several shipments later, Yuvonlaan dropped a bundle of armour beside the word-wall with a loud crash. The mortal soldier, Captain Valmir, started at the noise and then, realising that the dragon was continuing to ignore him, looked away and poked at his campfire with a stick.

Not a bad haul, Yuvonlaan thought, sorting the armour and weapons into piles and then transferring them to the chest at the foot of the word-wall. Some of the bandits had had good armour, steel and Dwarven platemail - probably stolen from some of their victims. But pickings were getting slimmer as he had already wiped out most of the bandits in the locale and was having to look further afield for new targets. The Thalmor, too, had started avoiding the area near Riften.

He started at the sound of a dragon's roar. Not his neighbour at Lost Tongue Overlook, but an intruder.

One of Alduin's toadies, he sighed. With new orders, or demanding to know where the weapons are...

He quickly finished stowing the haul in the chest, and perched menacingly upon the word-wall, watching anxiously as the stranger grew larger and larger.

"F... Fahdonmul...?" he queried, as the dragon circled once and set himself down upon a nearby trilithon.

"Yuvonlaan!" the new dragon exclaimed. "It is you! My heart is gladdened to see you once more! Alduin never liked us to admit to such feelings as affection, but I have missed you, old friend, I truly have."

"How?!" Yuvonlaan choked. "How is it that you live still? You were Alduin's sworn enemy... He would never have revived you!"

"Indeed. He would not," the other brown dragon acknowledged. "Fortunately for me, he did not need to."

"Did... Did the Old One bring you back...?" Yuvonlaan asked, sounding awed. "To balance Alduin reviving his own minions...?"

"I am minion to none except Bormahu," Fahdonmul sulked, puffing a gob of flame into the air in annoyance. "And, regrettably, the Old One may not have the power to do such deeds, else I would surely have pleaded him to revive you. It takes a lot of energy to raise the long-dead back to the flesh, especially for one as large as a dovah. No. Like Mirmulnir, Ahbiilok and the Old One himself, I have survived the passing of all these long centuries, lonely and full of sorrow."

"You made it to Pyandonea, then...?" Yuvonlaan looked impressed. "If I had not delayed, perhaps I too could have waited out the war in hiding."

"Perhaps it was better that you did not," Fahdonmul remarked thoughtfully. Yuvonlaan's fangs bared and his wings flared out in anger.

"...You think I should have died?!" he roared. "Spent four thousand years in the black sleep of the Little Death!? I thought you were my friend!"

"And I am," Fahdonmul reassured him hastily. "I am Strong Friend, to mortals, and also to you, zeymah. But you do not understand me, I fear. You are alive today, because the mortals of the Dragon Cults took your remains and reverently buried them intact, that Alduin could find and recover them. Which he has done.

"Maybe you think that just because I fled to another continent, my life has been carefree and easy?" Fahdonmul's expression darkened. "Maybe you believe that just because I survived, I have spent four eras lounging on a mountain, snacking upon goats and watching the stars? It has not, and I have not.
"I survived only because I can pose as a mortal and even then, a single arrow could have felled me... A blade could have struck the head from my shoulders, or a rope choked the light from my eyes. I faced all these perils and more, sometimes escaping only by sheer luck. I had to move frequently, for when I stayed too long in one place, the people would start to notice that I did not age and such suspicions would not end well for me.
"And as a dovah, I would not have fared better. The Akaviri had agents there... The Dragonguard, later the Blades. Any of these factions and more besides, would know how to slay our kind, and two dovah would be harder to hide than one.
"Never think, old friend, that I wished for your death. I grieved long when I heard of your loss, sometimes I prayed for Bormahu to finish it all, that I should have died in your place, and that it was futile to persist in this world when you and all my other brothers had been murdered.
"And yet, if you had joined me in Pyandonea, it may have been worse! You may have died there instead, where the Cults could not have buried you, where Alduin would not have found your remains. If that had happened, you would still be dead right now!
"Perhaps, with my guidance and teaching you to assume mortal guise also, you may have survived. But I only just survived all this time, through thousands of years of the extermination of our kind, through all the wars and mortal civilisations that rose and fell, witch-hunts and purges against the unusual and the beast-folk. I should not have survived, and I thank Bormahu and Kaan each day for watching over me, for it is likely Their Hands that have spared me from the fate I should have had."

"Put like that," Yuvonlaan admitted, "You have a point. You are wise as ever, Fahdonmul, and I apologise for my outburst. No... if my little-death was appointed to happen, better it happen where and when it did, than after the Cults were extinguished and my bones left to be plundered by alchemists or my skull mounted as a war-trophy."

"Let us now set aside such morbid thoughts," Fahdonmul said cheerily. "We both live! We should be celebrating!"

"I live for now," Yuvonlaan said fearfully. "But Alduin has pressed me into his service. I must send him constant tributes of weapons and armour, or he shall destroy me! And I am already late!"

"Then leave him," Fahdonmul advised. "Flee to the Monahven and join us against him!"

"I cannot!" the dragon whimpered. "Alduin has claim on my soul! He will know! If I desert him, he shall hunt me down as a traitor, and I do not think the Old One has strength to protect me against the full force of his anger!"

"You are a dovah, old friend," Fahdonmul said. "You are Bormahu's child, and your soul belongs to Him, and to Him alone. It is not Alduin's to covet nor own."

"But he will if I fail him," Yuvonlaan wailed. "He'll eat it! Eat me! I will cease to exist, or be banished to the hell of a soul-cairn until the end of days! When my precious ziil fills his belly, he will certainly own it then!"

"I do not mean to trivialise your worries," Fahdonmul assured him, "But this is no geas upon you, binding you to his will. For despite Alduin's deranged claims of godhood, he is not Bormahu. And once he is defeated, his claim on you will mean nothing."

"But if I agreed...?" the dragon whimpered. "Then it would stand, surely!"

"Aam uv dir," Fahdonmul retorted. "You agreed only under duress. That is not considered a binding agreement under any law, else mortal bandits could make their victims swear at swordpoint that they consented to being robbed."

"But we are under Alduin's law," Yuvonlaan pointed out miserably. "He is Strongest. What Alduin wants, he takes. What Alduin does, we put up with."

"Alduin's laws only apply if he can enforce them," Fahdonmul pointed out. "It was foretold that he would return, just as he did - and that another would rise up to slay him, and end his wickedness. If that should happen, he will have no hold over you."

"That is no better," Yuvonlaan groaned. "I visited the Old One, in secret. He told me of the Dragonborn Prophecy, for his allies saw the Wall constructed and told him of its contents.
"So what...? A Dragonborn destined to slay the World-Eater will see us all as mindless beasts and not just slay us, but rob us of our very ziille! What difference does it make if our souls are given the True Death by Alduin or by some idiot with a sword who knows nothing of the bigger picture? Who would not realise until it was too late that not all of us deserved to die...? That they were devouring their own kind, their own potential allies...?
"Besides, the Last Dragonborn is dead," he scowled. "Bormahu's precious Chosen One had their head struck off by their fellow mortals - a sport they all enjoy - and Alduin arrived in time to devour their ziil. Even our slim chance of salvation by making an alliance with them has been dashed."

"Alduin was not quiet about that," Fahdonmul admitted. "He Shouted of his victory such that it could be heard from Pyandonea by those who can hear it. But I think you are overly pessimistic, old friend. Bormahu is all-wise and has surely planned for such a contingency."

"Not... Miraak...?" Yuvonlaan looked even more terrified than usual.

"NO!" Fahdonmul hissed, equally scared. "He is dead! The First Dragonborn was put to death for his vile treason. Even if - as some claim - he escaped justice, he has not been heard of since the Dragon War. Besides, he would not save us - only murder us all.
"No, there is another option yet, my brother. I do not want to give you false hope," he continued. "But the Dragonborn Prophecy only states that Alduin shall fall to one who has the soul of a dragon in the body of a mortal."

"I know what a Dragonborn is," Yuvonlaan grunted. As he spoke, there was a flash of light and Fahdonmul disappeared. Where he had been, a handsome male Khajiit in glossy black armour stood, an assassin's blade at his side.

"Are you sure...?" Corvo rasped. "Look upon me now, zeymah. Am I not a dragon's soul in a mortal's body...?"

At that moment, there was a distant call from another dragon, and before long a third brown dragon had landed on the word-wall.

"Yuvonlaan, who is this stranger?" Mirmulnir demanded. "You should have sent his sil to Sovngarde for Lord Alduin to dine upon. If you are too squeamish, I can always add him to my quota!"

"He is my contact," Yuvonlaan growled. "A surviving worshipper of the dov. Would you see his faith in Alduin wasted...? That would not serve his Great Plan!"

"Ah, I see!" Mirmulnir conceded. "In that case, he may continue to live - for now. But why are you wasting time chatting with joorre? Lord Alduin demands to know when the next shipment will arrive!"

"Mey!" Yuvonlaan snapped. "Where do you think the weapons are coming from, fool...? I told you, he is my contact! My arms dealer! I was in the middle of arranging the purchase of fine weapons for Alduin's minions, and you are interrupting that sale!"

"Hmmph," Mirmulnir grumbled. "Continue, then. But know that our Lord grows impatient, Yuvonlaan. If there are further delays, he may inspect you in person. And he will not be so forgiving as I."

"It will be ready by the end of the week, Mighty One," Corvo said in Khajiit-accented dovahzul. "Praise Alduin, King of the Sky-Lords!"

"Very good," the other dragon stated, sounding pleased. "I shall relay this news to my Lord."

The Khajiit bowed low, and Mirmulnir took off, flying in the direction of Skuldafn.

"What am I going to do...?" Yuvonlaan wailed, once the dragon was out of earshot. "I can't kill that many bandits and Thalmor in one week! Please, Fahdonmul... Help me! You can do it... You can buy weapons in your fancy disguise..."

"I shall help you, old friend," Fahdonmul said, reverting to his true form, "But as I was saying, Alduin's death has been foretold. Again, I don't want to give you false hope... But I match the prophecy, if only on a technicality."

"You are going to try and kill the World-Eater?!" Yuvonlaan stared at the other dragon as if they had gone mad. "No! Don't do it! He will destroy you!"

"...How is my victory any less probable than a mere mortal standing alone against Alduin and killing him?" Fahdonmul queried testily. "I would say it is far more likely for a mighty dragon to succeed, no offence intended to the mortals."

"When you put it like that," Yuvonlaan admitted. "But even so... Others have challenged him too, and their souls still ended up in his belly."

"That is so," Fahdonmul conceded. "But I think I know his weakness. I am following a lead that may yet prove to be his undoing. Bormahu willing, I shall return in two days," Fahdonmul said. "I shall bring you weapons to placate the World-Eater... But it may be that the situation will have changed by then."

"You cannot kill him in two days," Yuvonlaan said, craning his neck and turning away.

"I do not expect to," Fahdonmul grinned wickedly, fanning his wings for takeoff. "Even so, things may have changed."

* * *

Yuvonlaan had just finished constructing a new forge when Fahdonmul returned.

"I apologise for doubting you, Fahdonmul," Yuvonlaan told him. "You have indeed set things in motion that Alduin will find hard to stop. Oh, he is going to blow his top when he finds half his minions have agreed to stop slaying mortals!"

"You have heard what I did, then?" the dragon grinned wickedly.

"Oh yes," Yuvonlaan declared gleefully. "I have heard the news, that Alduin limped back to Skuldafn with a hole in his side, and with pond-weeds stuck to his spines! Mirmulnir saw it from Bleak Falls Barrow, Fahdonmul. He told me that you had sliced the World-Eater open and rolled him into the river like a cheese wheel. That alone cost him dear, but now a truce has been mooted by Sweet-Roll-Devour and the Old One...? Ohoho!
"Even Mirmulnir was all apologies and worries when he came here this morning. He has seen that Alduin's star is waning fast, and is looking for a new master. Oh yes, that fool's minions are deserting him left and right! I am so happy to see his empire crumble around him! He has had this coming for a long, long time!"

"I kept my promise, old friend," Fahdonmul said, and uttered a spell. Half a ton of armour appeared at his feet, settling in the cove of the word-wall with a resounding crash, startling Captain Valmir at his camp below. "Alduin may be caught on the hop, but it would still be prudent to deliver the armour," Fahdonmul advised. "Lest he takes his frustrations out on you. Besides, his loyalists may prove dangerous as well."

"This.... this is Ebony," the dragon gasped, craning his neck at the pile of gleaming black armour. "It must be worth a fortune! How did you come by all this...?"

"Oh, some I forged myself," Fahdonmul admitted. "It is cheaply made, for I knew you would want quantity over quality. And it is only for our enemy, after all. Some I took from the remains of Bounty Collectors sent by Jarl Balgruuf, and a mercenary who attempted to murder me."

"Even so... Alduin does not deserve this. I shall keep some of it for myself, if that is not a problem."

"I thought you might say that," the other dragon grinned toothily, as a colossal pile of gilded armour appeared. "And so, I have also brought you Thalmor armour. I have repaired the worst of the damage and washed the blood from it. You may send that to Alduin in substitute if you prefer... Maybe with a couple of the cheaper Ebony suits, just to prove you mean business."

"That... That is a lot of Thalmor," Yuvonlaan observed. "What did you do?! They travel in threes, mostly. But you only get two armoured guards and the inquisitor can give you very nasty burns with his spellcraft. How in Bormahu's name did you manage to get so much, so swiftly?!"

"They had a base on the coast," Fahdonmul said. "As a kaaz, I raided it and liberated the heads from many Thalmor shoulders. Twice, in fact - once for pleasure, once for business. You see, after I had done that, I managed to sneak into Whiterun without the guards seeing me."

"In mortal guise, surely...?" Yuvonlaan queried. "We dov are not built for stealth. Or did you make some kind of invisibility device?"

"The Jarl of Whiterun has a bounty upon my head," Fahdonmul scowled. "I do not think he has realised my true nature, but even so, I am not welcome there. As Corvo the Slayer, I was already wanted for the murder of many Thalmor on his lands and had to enter the city by stealth.
"Once inside, I met an elderly woman who feared for the safety of her son. To cut a long story short, I pledged to locate him and it turned out he had been captured by the Thalmor and taken to their regional headquarters to be hanged. This struck me as odd, for I had not seen him on my previous rampage there, yet I agreed to help look for him. I want to stay on the good side of the mortals, after all. Well, mostly.
"When we approached the place, my allies were confounded to see many naked elven warriors lying headless in the snow, having been stripped of their worldly goods and their heads on my previous visit. I do not know why they were left like that, perhaps they were investigating the massacre and did not wish to disturb the evidence. Or perhaps the Thalmor subscribe to Alduin's beliefs that those who died, died because they were inferior and thus did not deserve a decent burial. Regardless, although the outside patrols lay in decapitated heaps, inside the building were many living Thalmor soldiers. So I decapitated them too in the process of rescuing the captive, and made off with yet more armour."

"Talking of Alduin's beliefs, I have never understood his obsession with strength as a measure of worth," Yuvonlaan sighed. "The idea that one is correct because they are stronger is patently nonsensical, yet it has warped all our thinking, led us away from Bormahu's light. If anything, it the reason we are hated so by the mortals.
"It is one thing for Alduin to see three gold bars and say there are eight, and to threaten all who disagree with death. But even slaying those who are able to count will not conjure the missing gold bars into existence. Reality will not bend itself to fit Alduin's so-called 'Rightness', no matter what he thinks."

"I agree," Fahdonmul said. "And were I to cast down Alduin and free the dov from his delusions, that creed will be one of the first things to go. Yet even were I to supplant his lordship, it will not be an easy thing to undo, for this dogma has lasted six thousand years or more. To some it gives purpose - that it is our mission to enforce our will upon those who are inferior, and to obey the orders of those to whom we are inferior. Those who rely on that belief for guidance will be left adrift, and will have to be handled with care."

"I wish you luck, my friend," Yuvonlaan said, "and I thank you again for this gift. You have surely saved me from Alduin's wrath. And now I must arrange the delivery," he added, eyeing the armour with a greedy expression. "Alduin never specified which types of armour he needs... So he shall be getting the Elven stuff. The Ebony, I shall keep for myself."

* * *

Yuvonlaan carefully levitated the cover over the ingots as the last of the Ebony drained from the smelter. If I can find a willing frost-dragon, perhaps I can flash-cool these, he pondered. His train of thought was interrupted by a dragon-call in the distance, and he craned his neck to see a draconic silhouette in the distance, growing nearer as he watched.

Hopping from the word-wall, he landed in front of it, making way for the incoming dragon, his new ruler.

"Fahdonmul, Thuri," Yuvonlaan grovelled, as the brown newcomer alighted. "You have triumphed, master... and my soul is yours to command..."

"No!" Fahdonmul exclaimed, sounding shocked and appalled. "There is no need for this! I am not Alduin!"

"...Aren't you?" Yuvonlaan asked quietly. "You are now the Strongest. All who pledged fealty to Alduin on that basis, now owe allegiance to you. Are you not, in effect, a new Alduin...?"

"Yuvonlaan," Fahdonmul said softly. "I am not the World-Eater, nor do I wish to be. Alduin was Bormahu's greatest, before he turned to evil. He was given powers beyond anything I have, and beyond anything I wish to have.
"We spoke recently of what I would do if I could assume Alduin's place - and my vision for that has not changed. Those who serve me, must honour the truce. I have given them bands, such as I wear now, to curb their violent impulses and to prove to mortals that they are allied to me. But not all have done so."

"Oh...?" Yuvonlaan cocked his head slightly. "How do you mean?"

"For one, Sweet-Roll-Devour. He is a disciple of the Old One, and of course I have not even attempted to force Paarthurnax to obey me. Those who refuse to serve me, may instead follow the Way of the Voice if they prefer, and be my allies rather than my underlings. If they oppose me, they must leave my territory, and my underlings will enforce that. But I will not have them slain, for they are still Bormahu's children."

"And has this happened...?"

"It has. Some were so devoted to Alduin, that they saw me only as his murderer and attempted to avenge their fallen lord. But I did not fight Alduin without potent charms of protection, and their attacks proved futile. Of course, I had to defeat them, but that did not mean their deaths. Remember, my aim was to protect the dov, not settle scores."

"Alduin would not suffer any to serve another lord," Yuvonlaan said slowly. "As you said before, 'Aam uv dir' - Serve or die... That was his motto. That you allow this... truly you are not Alduin."

"Thank you," Fahdonmul said, sounding relieved. "Hearing Alduin's toadies grovel and beg me not to devour them for the crime of aiding my rival? 'No! Do not eat me, Thuri!' 'Please, master... spare my soul! I was mistaken... I had no choice...' That quickly became upsetting, to see just how badly Alduin had scarred their psyches."

"That it upset you eases my mind," Yuvonlaan admitted. "Yet I worry that over time you may become immune to it. I have heard that the Madgod Sheogorath was destroyed in the late Third Era, his place taken by a kaaz mortal he had groomed as his successor. And still, over time, this new Madgod gradually fell into the role of the Old-Man-With-A-Cane. If you are not Alduin now, I worry that one day, you might be."

"Then I will need your aid, friend, to ensure that does not happen."

"Even so, I feel that I owe my service to you, Lord Fahdonmul."

"Oh, don't say that," the brown dragon objected. "I accept your service, but please don't grovel. It is known that power will change how others see you, but still I had hoped this would not compromise our friendship!"

"I doubted you!" the dragon protested. "I did not believe in the prophecy, nor the Rightness of your thu'um. I had hoped you might triumph - you know that - but I did not truly believe you had the Strength to do so."

"At times, I didn't believe in them either," Fahdonmul said quietly. "A dovah as the pawn of prophecy is a little hard to swallow. But in the end, it sometimes takes a dragon to slay a dragon.
"And it did not come down to strength in the end," he added. "You were right."

Yuvonlaan lifted his head up, startled. "Then his creed failed him at the last? His stupid insistence that strength is rightness...? It proved his undoing...?"

"Indeed. Alduin only ever thought in terms of brute force, forgetting that intellect can contrive new weapons against him. The enchantments he mocked me for wasting my time on back in the elder days? They gave me power - sharpened claws that could slice through his very scales, and protection to rival his own. Those 'toys' of mine bloodied and maimed him at the Monahven - and in Sovngarde, where the blessings that kept him safe did not apply, they claimed his very life."

"As his slayer, you have proven your Rightness," Yuvonlaan said, bowing his head again. "So his creed says," he added quickly. "Remember, Alduin has conditioned us since linear time began to obey him as lord, and the reasoning he gave, now applies to you. His own code names you as his successor by dint of slaying him."

"That may be," Fahdonmul acknowledged, "But I told you my aim before, and it has not changed. Power corrupted Alduin, but his aims are not mine. I wish to preserve the dov as best I can, rather than to conquer for conquest's sake. Hopefully that will be enough to avoid falling into the same trap. As I have told the others, I aim to rule with a light touch. Only in matters of survival, and ensuring that we can keep a place in Skyrim, do I intend to put my foot down, as mortals say."

"Perhaps it is Alduin's conditioning talking, but I still feel unworthy before my saviour," Yuvonlaan admitted. "You call me your friend, but I did not believe in you. I did not aid you. All I did was beg you to help me placate Alduin!"

"But that is one reason I like you," Fahdonmul said. "You were not afraid to ask for help. Many died because they tried to face the wars alone - if mortals have taught us anything, it is that there is strength in numbers more than in the individual. And a willingness to reach out to others is an important part of us working together for our common survival."

"I must think on this," Yuvonlaan said. "You have emancipated me from Alduin, and for this I am forever grateful. If I can aid you, you can ever count on me, Fahdonmul." He craned his neck towards the work area he had set up. "Oh! I think the ingots are ready!"

"You are still gathering materials for Alduin...?" Fahdonmul cocked his head slightly. "I do not think he will be needing them anymore."

"This was never for him," Yuvonlaan said. "The best stuff I have kept for my own, remember?
"I know you intend to negotiate with the mortals," he added. "If you can find an intermediary, I have little doubt that you can arrange a formal truce in place of the moratorium we have now. The Empire may well accept it, for with the dov on their side, the Thalmor will be wrong-footed. They may even have to concede on the worship of Talos and other impositions they have demanded.
"But the Blades...? They will fight this tooth and claw. Peace with dragons is anathema to them, and though they are outlaws and cannot influence the Jade Palace, they may take matters into their own hands. I want to be ready for them, should they come here."

"I see," Fahdonmul said. "I wish you luck in your endeavour. If your project works, I may indeed have need of your skills to protect my new underlings."

"If it works," Yuvonlaan said. "I would not count on it working first try."

* * *

Captain Valmir started at the triumphant roar coming from the word-wall. There had been many strange noises coming from there of late, including what he could have sworn were the sounds of a colossal forge.

And now, perching proudly upon the word-wall, was the strange dragon who had been pointedly ignoring him. But he was somehow changed - his brown scales had become dark, blackened and strangely pointed. For a moment he feared that he was looking upon Alduin reborn, that the World-Eater had returned once again.

But looking more closely, he saw traces of brown still, and heard the unmistakable clink and chink of mail as the creature's weight shifted. And as the dragon took off and soared over his head, a glowing golden band around his throat, Valmir saw that the creature's brown scales were now clad in gleaming ebony platemail.