Hi all, Spirit of the Aces here! Here is the first chapter of the Elder Scrolls crossover I told you all about awhile back. So, without further ado… the disclaimer!

I will not now or anytime in the future make a profit from this. The respective Characters and ideas belong to their respective owners.

Author's note 8/25/17: Did a bit more editing to help make the story flow better. I also added a bit more detail to the last part.

Author's note 4/15/18: Even more editing to make it detailed and to fill plot holes.

Story Start!

Fate-Dovahkiin

Prologue: The Beginning

Hell on Earth. Those are the only words to describe what is occurring in Fuyuki City. The heart of the city is consumed by the flames of the Seven Hells, the very air thick with corruption and the stench of burning flesh. Normal everyday people having been caught up in the aftermath of a single man's decision, were panicking, for no warning was given for this nightmare.

As the fires rage around him, a single man with blood red hair was attempting to aid others by casting a shield made of light to protect the survivors from the hungry flames. The man was bestowed and skilled with an art of magic that most Magi in the world would kill to study. But, for all his might and skill, the strength of the ravenous flames was proving to be too strong as he was slowly being overwhelmed.

"RUN!" The man yells at those behind him, cracks appearing upon the arcane shield like a spider web, reaching out to the edges. "GO NOW!"

Everyone that could help the injured did as they all streamed out from the shield. Only one person remains, a young boy with the same blood red hair as the man, wearing a simple white and black t-shirt and blue jeans. The boy opened his mouth to argue, but the man interrupted before any words could be spoken.

"Shirou, listen to me!" Instructs the man. "There's something I need to give to you!"

The man hesitates for a second, but with a sudden hardening of his features as if he had come to a decision with no other choice, the man takes one of his hands off the shield. Screwing up his face in concentration as if struggling to recall something, the man Shouts words that are unintelligible to all in the city, save for the man himself and the young boy before him.

"Zu'u Vod Wah Hi Faal Ofan Do. Aal Nii Spaan Hi Ol Nii Lost Spaan Zu'u," As soon as those words left his lips, the flames surrounding both man and child seemed to halt, as if baffled by them.

With a brilliant flash of golden light that pierced the darkness of that horrible fire, a finely crafted blade came into existence. They were etched with what appeared to be mere scratch marks until they started glowing with a ghostly blue light with a hint of gold.

But before Shirou could read the markings of the sword clearly there was another flash of light and an equally exquisitely designed sheathe appears right next to the sword. Like the blade, its container has the same scratch mark-like runes as the sword, save they are arranged in a different pattern. These runes too, appeared to be nothing extraordinary, but with the way they glowed an unearthly blue in his vision, the boy knew that they were as special as the previous ones.

"These are - and Magnus. They will aid you from now on, always keep them safe and they will do the same for you. Now run, I won't be able to hold these flames back for much longer!" The man shouts at Shiro over the roar of the hell fire and screams, the sounds having reached a deafening pitch, blocking out the name of the sword, as he hands both relics to the boy.

He then turns his back to the child and shouts out one last command. "GO!"

With wide eyes, the boy called Shirou nodded his head as tears flowed down his cheeks, and started to sheathe the unnamed sword into the sheathe, his feet carrying him away. The man breathes a small sigh, one that is never heard over the crackling of the flames. With the sound of shattering glass, the shield finally breaks.

"May the Eight and One watch over and keep my son safe," was the man's final thought as the vile flames consume him.

Sometime later…

Nature, it seems, has had enough of the accursed flames as water begins to fall from the sky, leaving only a world of ash and debris in the heart of Fuyuki. Here and there, however, were several small infernos that still burned in defiance. Through this scene of devastation, a lone ash dusted figure staggered through the downpour as if they were an automaton.

How long had he been fumbling through this wasteland? The young boy can't tell, nor can he bring himself to care. All he feels is the pain pulsing from his arms and legs. A dull empty ache in his chest throbbed as though...

Shiro crumpled to the ground, sheathed sword still clutched tightly, as the corruption in the air from the fire finally takes its toll on him; mind, body, and soul. For as he had staggered through the flames, a malicious entity reached out, grasping at his memories, and for every step he took another thought intertwined with different emotions was stripped away from him. It was as though the entity were trying to burn away everything that made the boy human.

As the cold embrace of death starts to seep into his very being, something in his field of vision changes. A blurred humanoid shadow had appeared, and as the being grew closer it revealed a man with a desperate air surrounding him, his hollow eyes flashing about looking for something, his hair mussed up so much that it appeared a rat called his hair home. When the man's hollow gaze meets Shiro's, a small spark of hope flickers across his face. The stranger then grasps Shiro's hand and miraculously the cold grasp of death gives way to the warmth of life.

"He's alive!" the man cried out joyfully to the night. "He's alive!"

The sweet scent of honeysuckle slips through the stench of the burnt city washing it away and bringing with it warm golden lights that wandered in the air like fireflies. As the lights disappeared, Shiro felt life flow into his body, the feeling resonating with his very soul. Struggling, Shirou looked up into the tear-filled eyes of the stranger, he then noticed the look of pure joy upon his face.

"I wish I could be that happy," was Shirou's last conscious thought before the darkness of sleep consumed him.

It was then when the man, known to many as Kiritsugu Emiya, went to lift Shirou into his arms that he noticed the sheathe still clutched in the young boy's arms. However, the blade was gone, having disappeared into the same motes of light that had saved the young boys life. Then he started his journey out of the ruined heart of the city.

Unknown Location…

"It has begun?" A voice asked in the gloom of what appeared to be an immense underground ruin. It held a tone that spoke of an old man with countless years of watching the world and held the weight of doing so.

The source of the voice happened to come from the only light source that lit up the being's surroundings. The outline of the owner taking a vague humanoid shape made of bright golden light, standing on top of a small pool of water that lay below a stone altar of some make.

"Geh, Nii Lost. Nunon, Til Los Aan complication." replied another voice from the darkness. One could tell there was an inflection of worry in in the second beings voice. It too held the tone of wisdom beyond its years, but not to the same degree as the first.

"What do you mean?" The light that made up the other entity was now fluctuating. It was as though the other voice's words had instilled some sort of fear into it.

"Ok Jul Lost bled Ko Ok Dovah Sil." Responded the second voice, as with the shuffling sound of talons and scales a Dragon, with scales the color of freshly fallen snow and eyes an electric blue, came forth into the light.

"Nay that will not be a complication, my son. It will temper his urge to dominate those around him. That is something his world does not need."

"Then how Fen Ok Sil react Wah Fin Kosil Lein?" The Dragon questioned again in the same guttural growl of the language it knew to the very core of its soul.

There was a pause, one that seemed to stretch onward for what felt like hours, until…

"As to that… I do not know." The being of light answered honestly. Soon afterwards, it shoulders sagged as a sigh escaped from unseen lips.

"Why Drey Hi allow Daar Mun Wah Golt…?" the Dragon trailed off as if not wanting to insult or upset the being of light.

"Why? Paarthurnax… do I not care for all of my sons?" Instead of sounding upset, indeed from the way it sounded, the divine entity was more amused if anything.

"Geh, Father." The white dragon, Paarthurnax answered in agreement. The wyrm paused for a few seconds, then asked "But what of the relics that were given to the young mortal? I have never heard of them, have you?"

"Aye, I have. They were gifted to his ancestor by the Krein itself when his family fled to Gaia."

"Then why…?"

"It was given to him to save him from a path of ruin. A path that would have led him unto endless despair with no way out."

There was a long pause as the divine entity let his previous words sink in, then he asked, "I take it you will be teaching him the Way of the Voice.?"

"Geh, Bromahu."

"Then farewell my son."

With the sound of falling water, the Divine entity disappeared, leaving Paarthurnax alone once again to ponder things over in the dark.

Well, that's that done. Please read and review. Flamers will be FUS RO DAH'd out of the premises. And, if anyone is looking for a translation for the dragon language that I used in this portion of the story, you should check out Thu'um dot org.

Spirit of the Aces RTB!