I Became a Side Character in the World Of Skyrim

After the misunderstanding finally faded, silence returned to the peak of the Throat of the World. The wind howled endlessly across the jagged stone, carrying flecks of snow that spiraled through the thin, freezing air. Paarthurnax’s massive chest expanded, scales shifting with a low, grinding sound as he released a slow, ancient breath one that seemed to echo not just across the mountain, but through time itself.

“Now that you have finished asking your questions,” he said at last, his voice deep and layered, like many voices speaking as one, “it is my turn.”

The colossal dragon lowered his horned head slightly. The motion was deliberate measured not submission, but acknowledgment. His golden eyes narrowed, studying the two mortals before him as if weighing their very existence.

“Who are you…”

A pause, filled only by the screaming wind.

“…and what brings you to my strunmah my mountain?”

Astrid straightened instinctively. Despite the crushing presence before her, she did not avert her gaze. Her voice was steady, though the cold bit at her cheeks and her breath formed pale clouds in the air.

“It seems you already know who I am,” she said. Then, after a brief hesitation, she inclined her head.

“And… forgive me for my anger earlier.”

A low rumble rolled from Paarthurnax’s chest deep, resonant, almost like distant thunder echoing through a valley. Snow trembled loose from nearby stone as he exhaled again.

“Yes. Vahzah.”

His tone softened, carrying a rare trace of humility.

“You speak true, Dovahkiin. And forgive me as well. It has been long since I last held tinvaak speech with a stranger.”

His gaze lingered on Astrid, ancient and unreadable.

“I, too, apologize for provoking your anger.”

Astrid did not linger on apologies. She took a small step forward, boots crunching against frost-covered stone, and spoke with quiet urgency.

“I need to learn the Dragonrend shout. Can you teach me?”

Paarthurnax’s wings shifted slightly, membranes creaking as if stirred by an unseen current.

“Drem. Patience.”

The word carried weight, pressing against the air itself.

“There are formalities that must be observed at the first meeting of two dov. By long tradition, the elder speaks first.”

He raised his head higher, drawing in a breath so deep that the surrounding air seemed to bend toward him.

“Hear my Thu’um,” he commanded.

“Feel it in your bones. Match it if you are truly Dovahkiin.”

The mountain seemed to hold its breath.

“Yol… Toor… Shul!”

The shout erupted from him like a living force. Flames roared outward, brilliant and blinding, tearing through the frigid air. Heat crashed against Astrid, washing over her like a burning tide not destructive, but overwhelming, as if the very concept of fire was being pressed into her soul.

When the flames faded, embers drifted upward like dying stars.

“A gift, Dovahkiin,” Paarthurnax said.

“Yol. Understand fire as the dov do.”

The knowledge settled into Astrid not as words, but as instinct. She could feel it in her chest, in her breath, coiled and waiting.

“Now,” Paarthurnax continued, his voice quieter but no less commanding,

“show me what you can do. Greet me not as a mortal but as dovah.”

Astrid closed her eyes for a brief moment. She inhaled slowly, grounding herself, feeling the heat awaken within her lungs. When she opened her eyes, they burned with resolve.

“Yol!”

Flames burst from her shout, surging forward in a focused stream. Fire struck Paarthurnax’s scales, curling around his massive form. For a heartbeat, the dragon was wreathed in flame but it did nothing. The fire slid harmlessly across ancient scales, dissipating into sparks and smoke.

Paarthurnax laughed softly, a sound like stone grinding against stone.

“Aaah… yes.”

There was unmistakable satisfaction in his voice.

“Sossedov los mul. The Dragonblood runs strong in you.”

He lowered his head again, eyes gleaming with something close to warmth.

“It has been long… since I last had the pleasure of speech with one of my own kind.”

A short distance away, Alex stood quietly, hands clenched against the cold, watching the exchange unfold beneath the endless sky.

(Okay… just like in the game.)

(The Dragonborn proves herself.)

His gaze flicked between Astrid and the ancient dragon.

Astrid and Paarthurnax continued their exchange, their voices rising and falling against the endless howl of the wind. Snow drifted lazily across the summit, catching in Astrid’s hair and clinging to the ridges of Paarthurnax’s ancient scales. The world around them felt distant small beneath the vast sky and the towering presence of the dragon.

Alex remained several steps back. He kept his hands relaxed at his sides, resisting the urge to speak. This was not his conversation to interrupt. Instead, he watched listened as history itself unfolded before him.

They spoke of Dragonrend. Of its meaning. Of its defiance.

Paarthurnax’s wings shifted, folding and unfolding slowly as if mirroring his thoughts.

“Dragonrend,” he rumbled, “is not a shout born of the dov. It is forged from mortality from fear, limitation, and hatred of endings.” His talons scraped faint lines into the stone beneath him. “It is a concept we do not fully grasp. Thus… I do not know it.”

The discussion drifted beyond shouts and words, sinking into philosophy into the nature of power, of choice, of change. The mountain itself seemed to listen, the air heavy with unspoken centuries.

Then Paarthurnax lowered his head again, golden eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“Tell me, Dovahkiin,” he asked, his voice quieter now, “why do you seek this Thu’um?”

Astrid did not answer immediately. She inhaled, steadying herself against the biting cold. Her cheeks were faintly flushed whether from the wind or from something deeper was hard to tell. When she spoke, her voice was clear, honest, and unguarded.

“I don’t want Skyrim to be destroyed,” she said.

Her fingers curled slightly at her side.

“…especially when Alex is part of it.”

For a long moment, Paarthurnax said nothing.

The wind roared between them, carrying the distant cry of something far below the clouds. Snowflakes drifted down and melted against the warmth of his breath.

“I have lived far too long,” he finally said.

His voice was lower now less thunder, more weight.

“In the past, I was evil. I served Alduin. I witnessed…”

He paused.

“…and committed, the slaughter of mortals.”

The words hung heavily in the frozen air.

“Yet there is one thing I still struggle to understand,” he continued. “The strength humans gain when they fight to protect or when they fight for the one they love.” His gaze returned to Astrid, ancient and searching. “Even now… I am still learning this.”

His wings settled, casting a long shadow across the stone.

“We dragons are strong enough to live alone. Our purpose is dominance and ultimately, to take part in the cycle of world-eating orchestrated by Alduin.” His talons flexed slowly. “We are immortal. Unless our souls are devoured by another dragon, or absorbed by a Dragonborn, we may be resurrected again by Alduin.”

He exhaled, frost spiraling from his nostrils.

“As for love and reproduction we have none. We are the children of Akatosh. And Alduin, the Firstborn, also determines our fate.”

A chill ran through Alex not from the cold, but from the weight of the truth in those words. He found the story fascinating… but kept his thoughts to himself, knowing this was not the moment.

Astrid lifted her head again.

“Then how do we defeat Alduin,” she asked, “if you don’t know Dragonrend?”

(Of course… the answer is the Elder Scroll.) Alex thought instinctively.

For just a heartbeat, Paarthurnax’s gaze flicked toward Alex.

It was subtle but unmistakable.

He saw the faint tightening of Alex’s expression. The spark of recognition. As if he already held the answer.

But Paarthurnax said nothing.

Instead, he turned his attention back to Astrid. Still, something lingered in his eyes unease. Curiosity.

There was something wrong about Alex’s presence.

Not hostile. Not dangerous.

But… displaced.

As if he belonged to the world and yet, at the same time, did not.

The wind surged again across the summit, and Paarthurnax remained silent, contemplating a mystery far older than words.

At last, Paarthurnax broke the silence.

The wind swept fiercely across the summit, carrying with it the distant cries of the world far below. Clouds drifted slowly beneath their feet, as if the mountain itself floated between realms. Paarthurnax lifted his massive head, the ancient runes carved into his scales catching the pale light of the sky.

“Now,” he said, his voice deep and steady, “I will answer your question.”

His golden eyes fixed upon Astrid.

“Do you know why I live here at the peak of the Monahven?”

A brief pause.

“What you call the Throat of the World?”

Astrid frowned slightly, then shook her head. A strand of her hair fluttered wildly in the wind.

“I’ve… never really thought about it.”

Paarthurnax turned his gaze outward, toward the endless horizon. His wings shifted, stirring the snow piled around the ancient stone.

“This is the most sacred mountain in Skyrim,” he said.

“Zok revak strunmah. The great mountain of the world.”

His voice grew heavier, layered with memory.

“Here, the ancient Tongues the first mortal masters of the Voice brought Alduin to battle…”

A long breath escaped him.

“…and defeated him.”

Astrid’s eyes widened slightly.

“Defeated?” she repeated. “But Alduin still exists, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” Paarthurnax answered, his tone calm but solemn.

“The Nords of that age used the Dragonrend shout to cripple him. But it was not enough. Ok mulaag unslaad.”

His talons pressed into the stone.

“They used the Kel the Elder Scroll to cast him adrift on the currents of Time.”

Alex’s shoulders stiffened.

(The Elder Scrolls…)

(Mysterious. Indestructible. Artifacts that contain all history and all futures.)

(Read at terrible cost.)

“An Elder Scroll?” Astrid asked, turning back to Paarthurnax. “What is that?”

Paarthurnax’s gaze shifted briefly toward Alex.

“It seems,” he said slowly, “your partner already knows.”

Alex felt his chest tighten.

Paarthurnax then returned his attention to Astrid.

“Still… let me explain.”

He tilted his head slightly, as though choosing his words with care.

“How does one describe such a thing in your tongue?”

“The dov have words for this that joorre do not.”

“It is an artifact from outside time.”

He paused.

“It does not exist…”

“…yet it has always existed.”

“Rah wahlaan.”

The words sent a chill through Alex’s spine.

“They are fragments of creation itself. The Kelle Elder Scrolls, as you call them have often been used for prophecy. Yes, your prophecy comes from one.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“But that is only a small part of their power. Zofaas suleyk.”

Alex swallowed.

(It does not exist… but it has always existed.)

(Isn’t that… just like me?)

The thought tightened his chest. He pushed it away.

(I don’t want to go back.)

(I was given another life. Another chance.)

(But if I die again… where will my soul go?)

“Hey. Alex. Yoohoo.”

Astrid snapped her fingers sharply in front of his face.

“Huh ?” Alex blinked, startled. “What?”

She sighed, planting her hands on her hips.

“You’re unusually distracted. You didn’t hear Paarthurnax explaining all that?”

Alex scratched the back of his head, forcing a sheepish grin.

“Haha… I did. Basically, we need to bring an Elder Scroll and use it here, right?”

Astrid stared at him for a moment.

Then she exhaled in disbelief.

“You were spacing out, yet you still understood the most important part?”

Her expression softened then darkened.

“But we have a problem.”

She glanced toward the vast horizon.

“How do we even find an Elder Scroll?”

Alex’s lips curled into a confident smile.

“Relax. I know or rather, I know someone who does.”

He looked back at her.

“Someone who holds the key to reaching it.”

Astrid didn’t fully understand why Alex knew so much. Yet she trusted him. He had never lied to her not once. Every strange certainty he carried had always proven true.

“…Alright,” she said at last, smiling faintly.

Paarthurnax watched Alex again, his eyes narrowing.

“You carry a suspicious aura,” he rumbled.

“It feels as though you exist…”

“…and yet do not at the same time.”

Alex met the dragon’s gaze and shrugged lightly.

“Guess that just means I’m special.”

Paarthurnax studied him in silence, the wind tugging at his wings. After a long moment, he shook his massive head.

“Perhaps… it is only my imagination.”

Astrid overheard the exchange, a quiet unease settling in her chest.

(What did Paarthurnax mean?)

(Is there something strange about Alex?)

She clenched her fists slightly.

(But I’ve never been in danger because of him.)

(He’s always the one who throws himself into danger for me.)

She exhaled slowly.

(I won’t ask.)

(Not now.)

With no more words spoken, they turned away from the peak. Step by step, they descended the sacred mountain leaving the roar of the heavens behind

and began their journey in search of the Elder Scroll.

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