This is a brief one shot I came up with while looking at (one of) my Dragonborn(s) when she was coming out of a cave after killing one of the Gauldurs. I thought for a second "Wow, she must be pretty damn tired of beating stuff with her sword all day long. I bet she'd give anything just to retire and have a calm life."

So, it led up to me writing this brief piece. While it's written for her, as after all it was while looking at her that I got the idea, this can fit for pretty much any Dragonborn you imagine, if you disregard the parts about the Summerset Isles.

Anyhow, I'm dwelling too much over this. Enjoy!

I have done all I can in this land. Everything I can for this land. Even though I only ended up here by accident, I've almost singlehandedly won a war in this frozen waste's favor. Hell, I've saved this entire place four times: from dragons, vampires, a crazed Thalmor and an ancient Dragonborn. Even though I never chose to be here, and never liked to be here, I ended up becoming their greatest hero.

Yet I've never felt so empty. I never chose this life of violence, I never chose to be the chosen one. I never chose to be the Dragonborn, the one whom, according to prophecy, was fated to defeat Alduin, greatest of all dragons. I never chose to be the one who had to stop Ancano, a mad Thalmor who was minutes away from wielding power enough to destroy the entire Nirn; I never chose to be the one to face Miraak, an ancient Dragonborn who wanted my draconic soul in order to dominate the world; I never chose to be the one to defeat Lord Harkon Volkihar, the age-old vampire lord who wanted to permanently hide the sun and sink the world into an eternal night.

I never chose to become a hero of a land who was never mine to begin with. I still wish I could go back to the beach I visited so frequently in the Summerset Isles, back when things were simpler and we were still a part of the Empire and I didn't have to worry about a thing of this world. Now I'd be a wanted criminal in the Isles, having killed more of my kin than I could ever count.

I never agreed with the Thalmor. Even in the beginnings, when most of us Altmer could still get away from the Isles if they feared they would suffer something at their hands, I would have simply waited and maybe retreated somewhere to live alone, unaffected by their ridiculous ideas. I just loved my place in the world, and nothing I've seen so far has made me change my mind on that.

I yearn for the Isles, if not for their people. They are my home, not this frost patch of a province everyone calls Skyrim. Bloodied piece of land is just not my home. I've been here for a bit over year and all I've seen is death. Everywhere I look at there's death. From the imponent halls of the Blue Palace in Solitude to the miserable Ratway Warrens in Riften, there's blood if you look deep enough. Insane province has gone to hell, and because of my goddamn fate, I'm inextricably tied to it.

I wish my fate were another, one which didn't involve me getting bathed in blood every single day. I wish my fate didn't always have another threat to the world which only I can stop, because somehow whatever end-of-the-world prophecy flying around involves me. I wish I could simply retire, drop my weapons permanently and take my entire family to the Isles and just live a peaceful life. Yet the world would never be so kind so as to allow me that single reward, even though I doubt a single person in the entire world could ever deny I've more than earned it.

No, fate has chosen me of all people. No matter what I think, no matter what I choose, I will be forced to take up my sword again and again, all in favor of a world who, except for a handful of people, will probably never hear about all I've done for them.

Fate has chosen me, yes.

I just wish it hadn't chosen me for everything...