Author's Notes: I am playing Skyrim with my character Myrwen and decided to give her a back-story. Just writing short stories for now :) I also have screenshots which are hosted by external sites. You can access them by consulting my profile.

English is not my first language, I am sure you will notice that.

Disclaimer: The Elder Srolls V: Skyrim, characters and places mentioned here belong to Bethesda. Myrwen belongs to me.

The snow falls ruthlessly in the end of this afternoon, testing her patience, draining her strength. The whistling wind muffles the sound of weary footsteps upon the snowy path, trying to yank the cloak off her shoulders. She nearly loses her feet, her knee supporting all weight as she trips and falls in the treacherous path, and no one is there to catch her. Ice soaks leg and gloves, piercing her skin like daggers, and she struggles up to her feet in blatant defiance to death itself, refusing to rest, to sleep in its cold embrace and be taken away.

All those years enclosed in the Sapiarch's Labyrinth didn't teach her as much as she hoped for. It was certainly valuable knowledge, useful to the sovereign comfortably presiding his throne, safely nestled in his domains, standing above his people and his world; not as valuable, however, in her current situation, clad in weathered fur and leather, bow and quiver ever ready, a wary eye on her surroundings as she conjures her wolf for extra vigilance, perhaps for a bit of company as well. Myrwen could recite her people history, way back to the First Dominion, way further than that, but it would value her little when facing trolls and bandits. She was taught politics, diplomacy, speech, the correct way to greet, to speak, to dance, to stand, to smile, to wave, but it would serve her poorly when cornered by a dragon or dealing with cunning Daedra. She was trained in combat, acquired survival skills, but there was this funny detail, that was never considered amidst her people: hailing from a country treated ever so kindly by all the four seasons, the Altmer, either being noble or peasant, knew too little about survival in the cold.

And Skyrim was in the heart of the gods' damned Winter.

A long time ago, one of her antecessors interrupted her training as well. Queen Aerynn traded a life of seclusion for a moment of freedom, setting off to see the world. She may have decided this overnight – it would look like her, after all, she was so young. Yet it was from her travels, the knowledge she acquired, that Ayrenn has founded the First Empire of the Elves and seamlessly ruled over Alinor when she returned home. And no one needed - or dared - to suggest she would be a better sovereign if she stuck to the Aldmeri Regal Praxis and Ceremoniarchy only.

"However, it was her choice, to forsake tradition and follow a sudden crave to set foot on the land beyond," she says, to no one in particular, "while I was unceremoniously snatched out of my own training, my own life. Yet look how much she has learned as vagrant, and how accomplished she has become as Queen."

Eterna – the conjured wolf – merely puffs, looking happily at her master.

This is a sight worth seeing, by all accounts, an Altmer walking side by side with a conjured wolf, who also happens to be one excellent listener. Myrwen managed to reunite most things Nord distrust or dislike however, to her advantage, she was also Dragonborn, and most Nords were unable to care less if she was an High Elf taming creatures from Oblivion, as long as she keeps the dragons away from their settlements.

Dusk falls and the Queen hastens her step, for High Hrothgar awaits when the Sun will not.

Myrwen wonders how being Dragonborn will affect her posterior rule, when she retrieves the Alinor throne. On that matter, she also wonders how being a banished Queen will affect her destiny as Dovahkiin. If she happened to be aware of this turn of events, back then in Riverwood, and was required to weight her priorities, she would not hesitate. "My homeland and my people stand first and foremost. Dragons are a minor care." And if she was also aware of this, but back then in Helgen, well, she would simply refuse to quarrel with dragons, considering their role in preserving her own neck.

But then, in Whiterun, she found out she was Dragonborn. And now, walking the 7000 steps, she meditated on its significance. Being Dragonborn meant that she would put Nirn above all else, lest she would have nothing to claim if the legends were true; she has read enough to understand their import. Otherwise she would not even be climbing this frozen mountain, not because she would ignore the Greybeards' calling, but rather because they would probably never summon her in the first place; they would remain silent as they were, secluded by their own quietness, wordless to the world below.

A troll roars in the distance, interrupting her reverie. Eterna dashes off, barking at the beast. Myrwen draws bow and arrow, aiming and shooting with sure grip until the beast falls dead. As Eterna returns to her, waggling her tail, Oblivion claims her once more, leaving her master alone, to stare at the little pawns neatly printed on the snow.

Myrwen can almost hear the Unforeseen Queen laughing in the settling darkness.