Song of the Warlord, part 2
"Hakon, speaking with Miraak will be the greatest challenge of your life so far. He and his acolytes may be famed for their lust for power, but convincing them to turn against the god of whom they are priests remains a near impossible task- even for someone older, for a Jarl," warned Felldir.
"I am a Jarl, Teacher," replied Hakon.
"Yes, Jarl Hakon the Younger, aptly named for his sixteen years on Tamriel. Miraak may as well be a Jarl himself, given the grip he has over Solstheim, and he will not take kindly to some heir telling him to throw that all away for a chance at a better Skyrim."
Hakon stared ahead at the snowy path eastward.
"Hakon... the Younger?" asked the boy. Felldir looked over at him.
"No, Teacher. I am Hakon One-Eye," the boy insisted, his destroyed right eye burning white like the Nordic snow.
Felldir understood this to be in protest of the dragon overlord that maimed the boy and slew his father. The boy's sister, however, was concerned with a more urgent matter.
"Bear up ahead," said Gormlaith. She unceremoniously hopped off of her horse and unsheathed her sword. Gormlaith could have been an excellent bride for some Jarl, or wed off to someplace like Elinhir or the western kingdoms of Heiroc to cement political relations, had she not been so interested in matters of war. Fortunately for her, she was reared in a family of Nords: when she said as a child that she was uninterested in feminine pursuits, her father grinned and handed her a wooden sword. Hakon the Greater had the utmost pride that his little girl had decided to follow in his footsteps as a warrior, and was known to gloat about her endlessly- until all of his words were ended by Maarkriinax.
Gormlaith walked towards the snow bear without saying anything else. Hakon and Felldir remained on their horses and continued their conversation. This had become a custom of theirs over the frozen road from Winterhold to Solstheim; the two men knew firstly that Gormlaith could handle the beast herself, and secondly that she had no desire to do it otherwise. Hakon the Greater used to joke that she only enjoyed competition so much because she always won.
"It doesn't surprise me that Miraak is more... authoritarian, than Vahlok," mused Hakon the Younger, "Vahlok was more concerned with religious matters. He didn't have that lust for power that so many dragon priests seem to have. He respected my father's right to rule over Winterhold instead of strong-arming him with the power of the Dragon Cult."
"We wouldn't be on this mission if men like Vahlok were the ones in charge," Felldir reflected.
"What do you think will happen to him?"
Felldir pondered for a few moments to the sounds of a fourteen year old girl eviscerating a five hundred pound snow bear.
"From my time in Bromjunaar, I can say that it begins with holding a trial. Nahkriin will mistreat him, beating him or parading him through the streets, possibly even stripping him naked so that the frost will gnaw at his flesh, on the way there. A trial of this importance will have the World Eater and his highest advisers, both men and dragon, in attendance. If Alduin realizes Vahlok's loyalty, our priest will be spared."
"Gods be praised," said Hakon. But Felldir continued speaking.
"Alduin will want to assert greater control now in either case. Even if Vahlok is spared, he will be stripped of title and imprisoned so that none will see the man who killed a Dov. His replacement will be more like Nahkriin than himself. The new priest will attempt to make you a mere figurehead when we return."
"I intend to kill and replace those priests anyway. All of them, besides the ones who aid us, and besides Vahlok. That one, I intend to free.”
“I suppose, then, that you will ask me where they might keep him,” guessed Felldir.
“You know me well, Teacher,” answered the heir.
“They might keep him in Bromjunaar. In that case, his freedom will be won at the end of this conflict. If they keep him in Skuldafn…”
“There’s no way we could reach him,” Hakon softly said. Gormlaith returned then, cleaning her blade before mounting her horse. Her face took on a skeptical look, with squinted eyes and a furrowed brow.
“Why would they keep him all the way over there?” asked the warrior-princess.
Her teacher answered simply.
“Fear.”
Vahlok gazed up at the lofty Velothi Mountains, watching as powerful winds cut through the fresh snow to whip up deadly blizzards along their craggy faces. People called him a heretic for shoving his ebony longsword through the eye socket of one of their gods, yes, but the demon worshipers that lie past those mountains were the true heretics. He had always felt humbled by the mercy of the World Eater, who allowed those devils to live even remotely close to sacred Skuldafn. More brutish dovah, like the terrible Vulthuryol, would have scorched them off the face of Nirn long ago. Vahlok turned to one of the warriors who had guarded his and Nahkriin’s passage eastward.
“Sad though I am to lose my title, I have always wanted to see this holy place.”
“In more ways than one, it is the closest thing on Nirn to Sovngarde,” she replied.
Nahkriin toiled away at a great dragon rune with his staff while Vahlok and the guards spoke. When he was finished, he bade them all to enter it, at which moment he raised his hand and teleported them to Skuldafn, thousands of feet above.
In Alduin’s temple Vahlok could not believe what he saw. Men and dragon lived side by side, for this temple was not dedicated to some arrogant dov or some corrupt dragon priest, but Alduin himself. It was warmer than possible for the climate and altitude, feeling like the city of Riften instead of a temple high upon a mountain. Nahkriin showed Vahlok to his jail cell. It had next to no amenities, but it had the one thing Vahlok desired it to have: a bookshelf.
“You keep your weapons and your books, under the orders of the World Eater himself,” said Nahkriin. He stared at Vahlok through his mask.
“Do not make him regret his generosity."
Vahlok sat with a spell tome while Hakon One-Eye sat with Miraak, ruler of Solstheim.