The Dragonborn

A Quick Note from the Author:

This story is heavily based on the game Skyrim. If you do not understand some of the story's terminology, I highly recommend that you check the Wiki. By the way, the story is PG-13 for violence. Thank you, enjoy!

If anyone came up to me right now, anyone at all, they would look into my face and see nothing. No emotion, no spirit. They would see an utterly boring person, with an utterly boring life. They don't even realize how wrong they are. People think that just because I'm a Breton, I have an easy life. They believe that nothing bothers me, that I just take care of business with my unique gifts and go on my way. But there is a reason for that, a danger behind my legacy. I am hunted by dragons, demons and gods. No one is safe around me.

After that truly optimistic introduction, I would like to ease up the mood. My name is Deinroh Mafaeraak, and it means "Eternal Keeper of Balance" in Draconic. For those of you that don't know what I mean by that, I can speak the language of dragons. Go ahead, take a moment to gasp, or curse my name. I understand that most dragons are beasts of great power and burden. I understand that my soul is considered demonic, but dragons are nothing like the Daedra in Oblivion. You can trust me. I have seen through my ancestors eyes as they walked through those fields of impurity. My father had always thought of songs for me in the Draconic that the elder Grey-Beards taught him.

"Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honor is sworn to keep evil forever at bay. And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph's shout. Dragonborn for your blessing we pray"

I of course understood this perfectly, while everyone else struggled to decode the strange words. But there were always people that excelled in Draconic, people like her. Her name was Kogaan and she was the only person that I ever truly respected and later, loved. Fiery temper, a heart of gold, and emerald green eyes defined her better than anything. I used to write poems for her as we sat in an old Oak tree. They told of nature, adventure, action, and rewards. She never got tired of listening to them. One day, after class had ended, she asked me to meet her at the Oak tree. I, of course, was so happy that I completely forgot about what day it was. The 22nd of Frostfall, the day of the Honoring of The Gods. If anyone missed the ceremony, they where cursed by the Gods and bound to Oblivion unless otherwise spared. I of course was lucky. I got a second chance.

When I saw Kogaan at the tree, I knew that she was planning on an expedition. She had her bag packed, and her Blessed wooden staff at hand. I wasn't surprised; she usually sprung adventures on me at the last minute. She didn't even have to say a word before she started walking and I started following, it was the regular routine. We always travelled in silence at first. When we walked about two miles, we reached a clearing.

"Ready?" She asked.

"Just lead the way m'lady." I teased.

She swept aside the bushes to reveal a gorgeous tree house. It was a dark amber color, probably made of cherry tree wood or mahogany. The windows had cute little decorations of snowflakes and leaves. A light lilac scent filled the air around the house, and tiny fireflies had begun to gather at the base of the tree. But something was wrong. There was a tension in the air; the fireflies weren't gathering at the tree, they were hiding in it. As I inspected the peaceful terrain, a figure darted out from under a tree. It was a Khajiit assassin with a knife.

"Run," she told me, "he's after you."

I couldn't run though, I had to stay and fight. I couldn't let her die, as she surely would.

The assassin was getting closer, moving slowly now, mockingly.

"Get away you bastard!" Kogaan yelled as she flung flames and frost at him from her staff.

The Khajiit smiled and dodged the attacks. I had to do something. She was losing. I darted from behind the bush and hit the assassin with a Fire Rune. It was enough to buy us time to get away, but not enough to save Kogaan's life. As she ran towards me, I wondered why she wasn't using her staff to finish him off. I heard the sound of an arrow flying towards me, and as it neared, a sudden burst of flame grilled it to shreds. But then another sound emerged from a nearby tree. The assassin wasn't alone. I could do nothing but stand and watch as the arrow pierced her chest, and she dropped her staff. I had one last stand, one last fighting chance to leave at least one of us alive. The Elders had taught me my first Words of Power just yesterday, and the hatred I felt was enough to convince me to use this sacred power. I turned toward the archer in the tree, and time slowed down. The archer had just released his second arrow, coated in a Soul Trap.

"FUS, ROH DAH!" I bellowed as a demonic wave of energy sent the man and his arrow into the tree. His arrow pieced his head, and he was missing an arm by the time I could focus enough to see him. I heard voices in the distance; the villagers had heard my Shout. They were coming to get me, just me. I hated myself so much. Had I used the shout earlier, she would still be alive. I kneeled next to her, I shed a few tears, and for just a moment, her eyes shined again, and she smiled.

"Till we meet again." She whispered.

Her eyes closed, and she went cold.

I can't say that I've forgiven myself completely, but the pain I felt when I saw the Elders carry her casket was enough to make me leave the funeral. There were just some things that had to be left in the past. A few years later, I turned 19, and the Grey-Beard Elders had taught me enough Words of Power to topple a city. I was ready to depart. I didn't ever believe in goodbyes, so I walked away without saying a word. I left a letter for my father, telling him of the good that I wanted to do. The first city I came across was Riften. It wasn't easy wandering around Skyrim aimlessly looking for a small town to stay at for the night, so Riften seemed very inviting. I paid for a room in the first inn that I found, and began wandering the town while the sun was still up. I didn't realize it, but every Khajiit that looked me in the eye, I gave a sharp and pained look. My aimless walk through the streets was riddled with bad memories, so in the end I decided to go to the inn and rest.

A light awoke me, an orange glow emanating from the windows. Daytime had come. I went downstairs and found my father staring intently at his hands.

"May I ask what you're doing here?" I questioned.

"Deinroh, we need to talk." He replied.

"Go ahead."

"When your mother disappeared three years ago, she left us with one thing. She left us with the other half of a song I wrote for you when you were little. She wrote the other half and completed the song."

"How is this relevant?"

"The song," he sighed and said, "is a prophecy. About you. For you."

"What truth lies within the words?" I asked.

"And the scrolls have foretold of black wings in the cold that when brothers wage war come unfurled Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound with a hunger to swallow the world."

"Alduin." I whispered, "I need to fight Alduin."

"You don't only need to fight him, you need to kill him." Answered my father.

And with that, he left the inn with a wave of his hand and the love in his eyes. He really did believe in me, even if I didn't. I paid the tab and went outside to think about my father's words. Alduin, the God of Chaos and Destruction, the fiercest dragon. How many stories had I heard about a Dragonborn killing a God? One, maybe? But that wasn't a God, it was a Daedric prince. My intent thinking caused me to literally bump into a passing merchant.

"Hey watch where you're going kid!" he yelled as he unsheathed his sword. "You wouldn't want to get hurt out here would you? Or where you just trying to pick my pocket?"

"Sheath your sword, brother. I mean no harm." I replied calmly.

"Well maybe you mean no harm, but I've got a family to feed. We're in the middle of the Throat of the World, no one can hear us, and I have a knife. That sounds like a chance worth taking." The merchant said.

"I refuse to fight you. It is an unfair match." I replied.

"Fine, I'll throw away the knife." The merchant said as he tossed his sword to the ground.

"I meant for you." I stated calmly.

The merchant ran at me with his fists in front of his face. I tried not to laugh as I dodged his attacks. I honestly thought that the Grey-Beards' lessons on agility were ridiculous. I'd been proven wrong.

"Stand still! Stop squirming!" he yelled as he fell to the ground from exhaustion.

"Do you yield?" I asked.

"Yield" he whispered.

I gave him a hand and helped him stand up.

"You've got some skill kid. I'm sorry I tried to kill you but this damned war is messing with everyone's head, including mine."

War? No one had told me of war.

"The Imperials and the Stormcloaks are at it again. Those damned politicians and their evil laws are tearing Skyrim apart."

"What side do you believe in?" I asked with great interest.

"I believe in what ever side is going to put food on the table and ale in my stomach after a long hard day." He exclaimed with a haughty laugh.

I could tell that the conversation had ended. We began walking together in the same direction, no questions asked. Wherever he went, I followed. When we got to the bottom of the mountain, we were greeted by unwelcome faces. Marauders. Tons of them. They were hiding in the bushes, jumping out of trees, and standing behind rocks. The savage, deprived, and starved pack of humans looked at us with the eyes of wild animals. They didn't even speak before they unleashed a flurry of arrows that landed around us in a neat circle. It was only a warning shot.

"Let me show you how we do it on the top of the mountain." I whispered.

I faced the hungry faces of the marauders and felt the energy start to flow, I could feel the warm tingle of destruction and power numb my fingers and tighten my throat. This was going to be a strong one.

"IIZ!"

Each marauder was covered in a clean patch of ice that instantly killed them. Quick, clean, no mess, it was the most eco friendly way to solve your life threatening problems.

The merchant just stood and stared, even his ox had wide eyes.

"Feel free to crush the ice if you want, every part of them is frozen, and the smaller chunks will just evaporate quicker." I teased.

He just looked in awe. Not a word coming from his mouth, until he finally bowed and said,

"My name is Draalfus. Would you do me the honor of traveling with me, Dragonborn?"

"I would love to, but how do you know that I am not just a Grey-Beard?" I asked.

He pointed to the sky directly behind me. I had hit a dragon with my shout and froze the whole thing stiff, it was falling while its soul was being pulled out of its body. I saw the bright orange energy seep out of the dragon's mouth and rush towards me. I was covered in a familiar aura, an aura that I had no memory of experiencing. Why did this feeling seem familiar? I was floating now, coming off the ground while the light and energy seeped into every cell in my body. It abruptly ended, and I was thrown to the ground without hesitation.

"Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honor is sworn to keep evil forever at bay. And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph's shout. Dragonborn for your blessing we pray. And the scrolls have foretold of black wings in the cold that when brothers wage war come unfurled Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound with a hunger to swallow the world."

The song kept playing in my head, I saw the faces of my ancestors singing and chanting in perfect Draconic while I struggled to keep consciousness. Finally, I gave in and passed out.

End of Part 1

Stay tuned!