That Part Chapter 39: Windless Skies

This is a Skyrim/Alan Wake 2 fic. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

This chapter has been edited due to content. If you want to see the unedited version GO HERE.

JASH

I was afraid. I was terrified. If tonight’s events went as I predicted, Alex would not warm my bed on cold nights in the dead of winter.

My eyes watched Saga closely as she fought Scratch. She was a dryskin fighting a much more powerful entity. An entity that I had been unable to defeat myself. Though some part of my ego thought that if I hadn’t restrained myself in order to protect Alan, that I could have easily killed the Piece of Darkness.

It was hard not to join Saga as she continued to survive Scratch. The dragon blood in my veins from Akatosh and my utter devotion to Hircine made fighting more natural than anything else. It was a way to protect my mind from the hurts of the world. At one point death would have meant I could have relished in the thrill of bloodlust without worrying about other duties.

As I followed every movement of the fight as only a Daedric Prince could, I thought of Alex. I held onto the little bit of hope that he had given me. He truly believed that we would spend eternity together. It was a small bit of light in this utter dark, but it helped.

The moment Scratch was locked in the Cage, I moved to her side with Alex close behind me. The Piece of Darkness’ usually stoic face, was now showing clear signs of anger. His eyes met mine and I knew that there was no chance that he had any interest in my love.

Scratch came from the darkest parts of Alan but his host’s feelings for Alex were now long gone. Washed away like debris in a vicious storm.

“Estevez!” Saga yelled. “Now!”

I briefly closed my eyes as the lights made the Cage and surrounding area look like it was day. The Dwemer probably had such powerful devices when they had lived on Mundus. Maybe they had littered wherever they were with such blinding things.

Scratch’s look of anger was suddenly changed to Alan’s torment. He fell down, clutched at his head, and screamed out in pain. A shiver ran down my spine as I knew that was to be my fate. It was hard to watch knowing that whatever he felt now would soon be replicated by Scratch on my own soul.

Alan’s body slumped to the ground the moment Scratch was forced out of the bard’s body. If not for the shallow movements from his chest, I would have thought that the dryskin was dead as the black smoke swirled around the Cage.

With a brief glance behind my shoulder, I saw Alex’s look of confidence. A way for him to subtly tell me that he had been right.

“Saga,” Alex began with a cocky tone. “I guess Ja-“

Scratch started to bang against the sides of the Cage. He moved quicker than a mortal could blink. He rocked the Cage every time he crashed against the glass. We all looked at the Piece of Darkness as we worried what would happen.

Scratch wasn’t interested in Alan right now. But Alan wasn’t the only host he could use.

I doubted that the others could see Scratch’s movements like I could. With my mind so focused it felt like time slowed down. The sensation gave me more than enough time to calm my mind and body for the immediate future.

Sooner than I wanted, the mere cracks caused by Scratch became something more. The glass on one side shattered and must have been flung all across the shore of Cauldron Lake. I felt more than heard Alex begin to react. He wanted to stop me.

But there wasn’t time for him to move.

I focused on the fact that with my sacrifice Alex would survive this night. He wouldn’t be haunted by the memories of Scratch possessing him.

I focused on the possibility that Saga and Alan could work on a new ending for Return. They could make it possible for Alex and I to live our lives in Skyrim.

Even though my body and soul were relaxed, pained screams poured out of my mouth. There were no words to describe the pain ripping through me. It felt as if I were being raped yet it was a violation that went much deeper than that as Scratch continued to possess me.

As the pain felt like Scratch was breaking all my bones and bursting through my skull, a different sensation overtook me. Instead of the personal torment, an impersonal frozen wind assaulted my body.

I opened my eyes slowly to the vision Scratch had given me.

It didn’t take more than a moment for me to realize what he was torturing me with now that he had taken full control of my body. Of course the Piece of Darkness would look for one of my darkest memories and make it worse.

Of course he would send me to the Battle of Windhelm. Just like the real horror, there were bodies all around and Odahviing breathed fire down onto the city. There were the sounds of screams and my friend’s wings beating making the wind wage its own war against my scales.

It had taken a year after the battle for me to visit Windhelm without it feeling as if my heart had recently been carved out of my chest. Scouts-Many-Marshes had proven himself an exceptional husband during that year. If not for him, I might have become a mere shell of my former self.

A few years after the Civil War people had finally understood that I didn’t want to be High King. I was then able to form a consensus that Elisif should be High Queen instead. Hence the moot didn’t happen as soon as it should have.

As Odahviing dove down to continue his assault on the city, I was brought back to the present. The present looked similar enough to the past except for one glaring difference: Imperials and Stormcloaks weren’t attacking each other.

Instead of me fighting as a Legate of the Imperial Army with my fellow soldiers against the Stormcloaks, it was me against all those I killed. Some of the dead were Stormcloaks that I had killed in battle. Their skin was burnt to an inhuman shade by the flames I liked to use. Some of their limbs torn by my enchanted blades.

Some of the people that lined the city weren’t of such high moral standing. I saw a few bandits in the crowd. Those fools had thought it a sensible idea to attack me while on the road. Even after all of Skyrim knew I was the Dragonborn, there had been a few daring souls that tried to kill me.

Their bodies’ appearances ranged from mortal to something out of a Daedra’s darkest nightmare. It all depended on how I had been feeling at the time. Sometimes I liked to enjoy my kills after all.

But all of the dead in Windhelm weren’t only the morally corrupt. Some I had killed out of a perverted whim. Others died by my hands merely because the Night Mother had ordered me to do so. I was the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood since my Unholy Matron had noted the darkness inside of me. Even when I didn’t recognize that part of myself.

Out of all the dead in front of me, there was only one child. One blonde haired child that hadn’t been killed when I had freed myself from my Dark Elf slavers. One truly innocent child that made my blood begin to freeze when she looked at me.

I accepted my past mistake and managed to push the memory of her death from my mind. If I thought too hard about it then Scratch would have truly broken me.

My thoughts then began to expand to all those dead in front of me. Even though I slaughtered innocent and wicked alike, there was still good in me. There was good that Scouts-Many-Marshes and Alex Casey had seen. In spite of all my sins, there was something in me to love.

With my emotions so calmed, I was able to think about why Scratch had shown me these people. It would have probably been easier to just recreate the Battle of Windhelm as it had happened. The event had been dark enough that he had brought me to a recreation of sorts.

So the Piece of Darkness must want me to kill those already slain by my hands to break me. But it couldn’t be a simple slaughter. So where was one place in the city I would want to avoid? The one place in the city that could be considered the heart of the battle?

The Palace of the Kings!

It was there that I had killed Ulfric Stormcloak. He had been a man twisted by rage, ambition, and a need to save Skyrim. People praised me for killing the man and I had to hide my true feelings on the matter. Feelings that were complicated yet showed not a shred of regret for doing what had to be done.

Why would I need to go there?

Perhaps Scratch thought that I would be too mentally broken to enact my plan. So my dryskin body would be there.

I cast Bound Weapon and felt a sword in my left hand. The weight was comforting even if it was much lighter than my weapons usually were. My eyes looked over the crowd and I focused on my Dark Elf slavers.

Well, I had to start somewhere.

My sword easily cut into the Dark Elves while Elemental Blasts exploded into the crowd. Screams of past victims cried out as my captors died yet again. Unlike in my youth, I was able to kill them with skill and grace only gained by experience. My body twisted and turned and left them unable to land a blow while I killed them with ease.

I grinned at the joy of killing my slavers yet again.

As I continued to use Elemental Blast and slice my way through the crowd I realized something. These caricatures of real people weren’t fighting back. Though they waved their weapons around, if they had any, there was no skill in their movements. It didn’t matter if the dryskin had been a skilled soldier, now they were nothing but poorly controlled puppets.

Finally, there was no way to avoid the girl. She ran up to me with no weapon but every intention to kill me. Or, if failing that, to harm me. Odahviing’s flames gave me and the little dryskin girl a moment to ourselves.

“On the Ring of Hircine I swear to keep the promise.” I said. “I will take no children of my own.”

I forced my eyes to focus on my sword as it touched her skin. I watched as it cut into her neck. I watched as her head rolled down the steps. I noted how this move allowed me to move towards the Palace of the Kings faster than another form of execution.

No, don’t focus on killing her again. It took effort but I was able to let the guilt wash over me like a wave against a rocky shore.

As the dead didn’t put up much of a fight, it didn’t take me long to reach the entrance of the palace. The stench of the dead and cries of those dying from Odahviing’s flames would soon be out of my mind.

I let my Bound Sword return to Oblivion and pushed open the door.

Just as I had predicted, my dryskin body was on the throne. The door shut behind me as I noted her lifeless eyes that seemed to stare at me. She was a corpse whose only use was to allow me access to Alex’s reality. A use that had now run its course.

I walked up to her and gave a silent thanks. If not for her then I would never have been able to spend a few short days with my love.

The By My Soul Shout would only work if there wasn’t malice behind it. At least the primary reason for its usage couldn’t be one of violence. So I reached inside myself to create a foundation of peace.

I focused on my love for Alex. Not just love of the flesh but love of the soul that had been heightened through endless cycles. Somehow our souls had been intertwined beyond all sense and reason. Even though I would never be with him again, I had a nearly primal need to protect him.

I focused on the small sliver of hope that I would see Alex again. I imagined him and I spending eternity with each other. A hope that was only with me because of my love.

I focused on Saga and Alan. They would go on to do great things and I cared deeply for them.

“Naal Dii Sil!” I Shouted.

In response to my Shout, my dryskin body burst into flames. After the flames quickly died down, all that was left of my dryskin body were ashes. They then flew through an imagined wind.

“Ah!” I cried out as the world around me shattered in response to the pain.

The only comfort I had was the sound of Scratch crying out in pain. Or was I just imagining that?