Max von Sydow (Father Merrin in The Exorcist!) narrating TES V Skyrim: The Official Trailer has turned me into a puddle of goo…What can I say? My entire reason for being is now on hold for the next seven months…11.11.11 the new mantra…dragons, werewolves, and enormous spiders beware!
These came to mind after the 10th or 12th re-watch (maybe 20th or 30th – I've lost count!).
These are not canon, obviously; just a few smitten ideas that would not leave my head…
He had lain dormant for far too long, centuries of dust and spring-melt moisture having encased his body within a stony shroud. Many an era had passed as he slumbered while waiting for the Amulet to break. Waiting for the age of man to fall. The last of those with Alessia and Akatosh's blood must be hunted down and destroyed, forever forgotten. The time of the gods was nigh.
As awareness awakened him, one eye opened to the dark, dank haven he called home. The cavern was hidden from mortal eyes, magically protected from invasion while he slept. He struggled mightily, heaving the weight of the mortared rubble from his scaly body. He stretched his neck, arched his back, swept his tail from side to side, and finally spread out enormous leathery wings. The skin beneath his scales itched, covered with lichen, moss, and insects nesting therein. He hungered, his belly empty for so long. When finally free, he would first feed upon the flesh of animal, and then feast upon the warriors of this land.
He was the king here, upon this mountain. Ruler of all he surveyed. The cave, his throne-room, prison, and protection, was blocked by boulders and ages-old ice; but not for much longer. He could feel the breath returning to him. The elements were his to manipulate, fire being his greatest ally.
The Dragonborn would not be difficult for him to locate. The power of Akatosh sang from the little one's soul, resonating with the core of his own being. The Nords were a feisty lot, but even they could not withstand the strength of his dragon-breath. He had to destroy the Prophesied One, before it became lucky enough to destroy him.
It would be a battle for his very essence, he knew, as mortals always crave the power of the gods. The success of the Dragonborn relied upon the magicks of the dragon - all of his kith would be in danger of being sacrificed. He would not let his spirit become the source of power for such an insignificant creature. Nor would he allow his brothers and sisters to fall. Not while he still had breath to breathe.
The dragon inhaled deeply, and then released a great blast of fire. The boulders disintegrated as the ice transformed into a swirling vortex of steam dissipating into the cold mountain air. He was free!
Crawling through the narrow portal to the ledge outside, he was thankful for the darkness of the night. His eyes would need time to adjust to the light of day.
The great beast reared up on his hind legs, wings waving slowly to and fro in preparation for flight under the stars, triumphant in his release. With a trumpeting bellow he leapt off the ledge. First he would feed…then he would fight.
Let the hunt begin.