4Chapter I: Wolf Prince, Dragon Lord.
Fifteen Years before the return of Alduin
Hunting Grounds
Hircine's Domain
Hircine looked up, a blinding flash of light illuminating his once serene domain. As the light withered, the form of an elderly man, beard as white as snow and eyes as blue as a pure days sky, replaced the radiance.
Hircine grunted before changing shape as well, becoming a man of lean stature, wolfish grin adorning a handsome face. "Well, Well… Akatosh, Devine of Time and Space, Lord of the Sky, King of Dragons. What brings you to my… Domain." Hircine purred, his amber eyes flashing in wry amusement.
Akatosh peered around at his surroundings, genuinely enjoying the natural beauty of Hircines Hunting Grounds. Of all the Deadra, Hircine was his most liked.
"Your recent plaything has sprouted fruit, oh lord of the Hunt" He murmured, voice as soft as a breeze. "She has given you a son, born of an Atmoran woman no less, very nicely done Hircine" Akatosh praised.
Hircine immidiatly became defensive, his form shifting to that of a wolf, its hackles raised, growls eminating from the dark mass of black fur. "You shall not harm him, to attempt such would be a grave mistake!" The Deadric Prince roared, his power rising in concert with his rage.
Akatosh mearley ignored him, walking over to the nearby pool of water, small fish rippling the water. "Peace, I mean him no harm. I come with an offer, one that shall benefit him well, and you for that matter" He said, the words slowly easing the wrathful wolf Lord.
Hircine calmed, approaching the pool himself. He saw that Akatosh had made a scrying image on the water, showing his newborn being held in the arms of his mother. His eyes were a deep amber, akin to his own, hair a snowy white, like his mothers.
"What is your offer, Lord" Hircine said, his voice showing the love he held for his true first born son.
Akatosh took a moment before replying. "I wish to make him one of my Dragonborn, gift him with the blood, a mighty power indeed. Fear not, this will be an addition to your own blood, not a replacement." He finished, easing the once again rising rage.
"And you need my permission to bless one of my kin. What is in it for me, for my son? Your gifted tend to live short, unhappy lives, full of agony and betrayal. Speak now or leave." He rasped.
Akatosh was shocked, he expected Hircine to jump at the chance, not many were granted his gift.
"In addition to my blood, I shall later give him a portion of my power, giving him the ability to create portals to other realms, ones you will be granted access to. This is a true gift, one my kin would remind me of being to dangerous" He admonished himself.
Hircine grunted at that, thinking deeply before slowly nodding his accent. "Agreed" with that he turned his face once more to the image of his son, Rhonan of Atmora.
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Ten years later.
Province of Skyrim
City of Solitude
Rhonan looked on, the Nords going about their business, plying their trades. He had just arrived on the mainland, finding no food or shelter he began to use some of the skill taught to him by his late mother.
Seeing a man, the pouch at his belt heavy, he had his target. With inhuman speed, he slipped past the human, his now razor sharp nails slicing the purse from the fat mans waist.
Before the man knew he had been robbed, Rhonan was already gone.
This repeated a few dozen times before he knew it was time to leave. Using the stolen money, he got himself food for a week's travel and a short sword. Still to small to fully wield a Longsword, his dagger was his only real defence.
With a casual walk, he left the city of Solitude a smirk adorning his smooth features.
Black of hair, falling in a long waterfall, a warrior's plait framing one side of his face, his amber eyes and tanned skin, he looked both feral and noble at the same time.
As he walked he made plans, eager to bring pride to his father and honour to his mother.
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2 weeks later
Abandoned Fortress
The Reach
Rhonan had long ago decided that being a follower wasn't in the cards for him, his blood demanded obedience. Sighting a long abandoned fortress atop a cliff, he made the climb.
The climb took him a few hours, jagged rocks giving him much needed hand holds. Upon reaching the summit, he immediately realised the old fortress wasn't as abandoned as it seemed.
Taking a deep inhale through his nose, he took in the five scents littered around the keep. 'They will be the first of my guard, but I need to defeat them first' he mused
He spent a few moments casing the outside of the fortress, his superior eyes noting details most humans would miss, easy handholds for scaling the wall, the gate was rotten and in need of repair and then the overall run down appearance of the stone work.
Ogling for long enough, he set to work. Scaling the walls as silently as he could, Rho took in the back of the first man. Clad in leathers, he had a Bow, arrow already notched and two daggers strapped to his waist.
Hefting a rock, Rho pounced upon him, smashing the rock into the Nords head. He crumpled like to the ground with a heavy thud. Ensuring the man would indeed wake, he cast a strong Binding spell on him, taking away movement from the downed Nord.
Sighting another Nord down below in the courtyard working an Anvil, he picked up the hunting Bow, notching two arrows; he took aim and inhaled, loosing both air and Arrows, his missiles struck true, both going through the back of his legs and out the front.
Hopping off the wall, he approached the heavily breathing Nord, obviously trying to keep his screams inside.
Taking out his dagger, Rhonan spun it around and clobbered the man with the heavy pommel. He dropped much like the other. Casting another Bind, he made his way into the keep. 'Two down, three to go' he chuckled with dark amusement, the hunt was always fun.
The other three were also taken down fast, his skills not to be question at all, all thanks to the woman that reared him.
After he finished taking them down, he dragged them into the main hall, run down as it was, and had all five now awake men kneeling before him. Having found a chair he was sat down before them, relaxing as if it were any other day.
"My name is Rhonan, son of Hircine. You have two options, one, I give you the blessing of my father and you serve me till death, two, I kill you now. Choose." He growled, pooring fear into the hearts of his captives.
Slowly they submitted, agreeing to serve him. Drawing a blade across his palm, Rho forced his blood into their mouths, a sinister smirk etched across his face the whole time.
As all three passed out, their bodies adapting to the Lycanthropy, he sat again his hand healing rapidly, already scar tissue.
Before long, all five men erupted into roars, growls and howls of rage and pain as they shifted for the first time. At first they looked to attack him, but before they could twitch, an overpowering aura emitted from the boy, an aura that screamed Alpha!.
Bowing their head in deference, he walked into their midst, running his hands across their fur covered heads.
A bit of growling came from his new servants, but that too soon died down.
"A good start, a Shrine to my father and fixing this place up shall be our top priority" He stated, more to himself then the others.
Line Break
Rhonan spent much time ensuring the loyalty of his new Pack, his Aura growing in strength each day. The Aura was his body releasing a scent into the air, this scent demanding obedience from nearby Lycans.
Even at the age of ten, Rhonan's blood was powerful.
He also began making plans for the raiding of nearby farms and villages, his need for workers to repair and upgrade his new holdfast driving him to short burst of rage.
He was not averse to enslaving lesser beings, that being said, he knew the danger humans posed in number, he would be cautious indeed.
Building his own little kingdom would take time, something his father told him he would have in abundance when he reached the age of seventeen, immortality from natural death.
He could still be killed, but not from natural causes it would seem.
With the help of his small Pack, he gauged the size of his new domain, large was indeed an understatement.
'Tis almost time for me to begin, I need more Lycans, more servants and more power' he stated, his mind running with plans and schemes.
It would soon begin.
(A/N) Hiya, this is indeed a (I hope) fresh story, bare in mind updates will be all over the place.
Hope to get some good reviews, if not, I shall move on with my life, with a middle finger in the air!
This is the start of what im hoping to be a sieries of books.
Rhonan isn't a good person, too much deadric blood inside for that me thinks. He has been in contact with his father, gaining a massive amount of respect for Hircine.
Though he is still to young for a full transformation, he still has a lot of physical power, this will change when he begins going through puberty.
This story is Rated M for lots of Gore and blood and Lemons. Not all about the Lemons but they will be inside so don't like? Don't read!
This is starting a few years before the beginning of Skyrim, enjoy!