A/N: I am updating all the chapters of this story because I was not completely happy with the way it was laid out. My Dragonborn will no longer be nameless - her name is Skadi, after the Norse goddess. I'm changing a few things and adding more content as I see fit. This chapter hasn't changed very much at all, but the next ones might, depending on what I feel will fit better. Thanks guys for reading and patiently waiting forever for me to update. I will be finishing this story for sure, I just don't know how often I will be able to update. Anyways, on to the story.

I

The only sound that could be heard around me was the harsh winter wind that blew around the large amount of snow, only to hinder my path. Thank the gods that my special steed Shadowmere was somewhat of an undead mount. She could handle the harsh terrain with ease. She aided me in more ways than one and provided companionship for my lonely existence.

The road to Windhelm was a treacherous and irritating path. It always snowed in this hold, but I was equally glad that I wasn't going to Winterhold; that city was always well below freezing. Many an unaware traveller had fallen victim to frostbite there.

"Come on Shadowmere; we're almost to the city," I tried to soothe my horse. Honestly, I didn't even think she heard me. Even if I used my thu'um, I doubted that it would have been heard over this blasted wind.

There weren't many things that I believed in in life. Unfortunately, one of my strong beliefs was keeping promises to people that needed my help. I always - unless I was placed in dire circumstances - kept my word. That was the reason why I was going back to Windhelm. I made a promise to someone a couple of years ago that I intended to keep.

I could remember that fateful day like it was yesterday. It was the day that I met the man that was featured on so many of those Imperial wanted posters.

(~~)

My head was pounding when I had woken up. Where was I? This doesn't feel like a bed. I remembered being captured at the Skyrim-Cyrodiil border along with a bunch of men that I didn't recognize. The one thing I didn't remember was how I had gotten knocked out.

I looked down at my ragged prisoners robes. Yes, I thought. I remember escaping prison in Cyrodiil. I had come to the borders of Skyrim only to be mistaken for someone else. Oh Talos, I thought, my eyes going wide with realization.

When my vision fully focused, I finally figured out what was going on. My hands were bound and I was in a cart with three men; also prisoners. Two of them were having an ongoing conversation about something that I didn't want to pay attention to. I turned around, observed my surroundings and noticed where the cart was heading.

We were going to Helgen.

My stomach clenched at this thought. With all these prisoners in these carts, I could only assume that we were going to a trial.

Or an execution.

I bit my lip to hide my fear. I couldn't believe that my twenty years of a harsh, disappointing existence would end just because I was most likely at the wrong place at the wrong time.

The man closest to me on my left noticed my attentiveness. He turned his eyes onto me. "Oh, you're awake," he remarked. I noticed he was wearing Stormcloak armour. The ongoing civil war that raged through Skyrim was one that was tearing the province apart. If this man was a Stormcloak, then…

My thoughts were interrupted by the man who had spoken to me before. He was explaining our situation as if I was too incompetent to figure it out. I wasn't listening. Instead, I turned to my right for the first time to get a closer look at the large Nord beside me. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I saw him. He was the leader of the Rebellion.

"Ulfric Stormcloak?" I asked, gawking at him. All eyes in the cart turned to me, but I just continued to stare at the man like he was some kind of sight to behold. I recognized him immediately from the wanted posters he was on after killing the High King of Skyrim with his "Voice", as others called it.

He was the only one in the cart who was gagged; I didn't realize at the time that it was to prevent him from using his thu'um to escape. He stared at me with an unreadable expression in his eyes. He was handsome – rugged, but quite easy on the eyes. He had to be in his late fourth or early fifth decade of life and the age showed on his face. Surprisingly though, his hair was the colour of sand, with no grey visible. If it wasn't for the age lines on his forehead and the deep scar on his left cheek, the average person may not know he had lived before the Great War.

We continued to stare at each other. The other two men in the cart were regarding our exchange with genuine curiosity. What else did they have to do before they were beheaded?

I could only imagine what I looked like. I had escaped from prison, and I knew I was covered in dirt and scrapes from the capture. But he continued to stare at me like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. I continually grew annoyed that I had no idea what he was thinking. The jarl of Windhelm was sitting beside me and I had no clue what to say to him.

I was about to ask the Stormcloak man on my left a question when the horse thief across from Ulfric started speaking first. "Instead of staring at the jarl, you could stare at me all day if you want. I wouldn't say no to a kiss or two," the horse thief remarked smoothly. I had heard him whining about where we were going the whole ride and now he had the nerve to try to seduce me? Some of these men were so typical.

I snorted. "If we weren't heading to an execution, I wouldn't say no to cutting off your balls," I said evenly. This was my way of getting men to leave me alone when they tried to bed me; it usually worked, but some needed a more physical message. These men weren't used to a woman who could think for herself.

The thief gasped and didn't say another word to me the entire ride. I looked at Ulfric again. Despite the gloomy situation, I thought he was smiling at my remark. The moment was short lived however because his forehead creased downwards in what seemed to be worry.

I couldn't blame him for being worried. He had gone through such an ordeal already and I didn't think it fair for him to die without proclaiming his right to the throne. All his efforts were for nothing, I thought bitterly. We have a lot in common.

There wasn't much chatter from the other prisoners as we arrived in Helgen. I can remember General Tullius accusing Ulfric of murder and after that, most of it was a blur. The horse thief tried to run and was shot down by arrows in the process. A Stormcloak soldier was beheaded. My stomach lurched fearfully at the gruesome sight. My only hope was that the Imperials would realize that I wasn't supposed to be there.

It was my turn next. The Imperial officer couldn't find my name on the manifest of prisoners. No one knew who I was. Even though I wasn't supposed to be there with all the Stormcloaks, they decided to execute me anyways.

As I was led over to the chopping block, I felt fear; fear and regret. My life was so short; how could it end so quickly? I hadn't even found my true purpose. I was shoved to my knees and forced to lay my neck down on the block of wood that housed the pool of blood from the beheaded soldier. I was fairly certain that his head was still in the basket in front of me.

I didn't even feel like crying. I barely cried anyways but one would think that as they are on the brink of death they would feel some sort of sadness. My eyes shut closed. This is the end.

And that's when it happened. I heard it before I saw it. A loud roaring sound was coming from the sky. What in Oblivion was that? I thought. By the Nine, what did it matter when I was about to be dead soon?!

My eyes flew open when I heard a loud smashing. I thought my heart stopped when I saw what was perched on one of the Helgen buildings.

It was a giant black dragon.

I had heard rumours about dragons returning to Skyrim, but who would have known that one would show up in Helgen just as I was about to be executed? In my fear and confusion I felt the first flicker of hope I had felt in days.

Everyone was screaming now in a mad attempt to evacuate the town. The dragon used a strange breath attack on the panicked people that brought them down to their knees. I got up from the ground and looked around at my surroundings for a quick escape. I found Ulfric Stormcloak with a couple of his soldiers running into a building. I sprinted towards the door before it closed behind me. "Prisoner!" A man raised an eyebrow in surprise at me as I shoved my small body in.

I recognized him as the man who was in the cart with me on the way to Helgen. Jarl Ulfric took no heed of me as he quickly gave instructions to his officer. He had a deep, accented voice. "Prisoner! Follow me if you want to live!" The officer barked at me.

I turned to Ulfric quickly. "I promise you Sir, that if we make it out of Helgen alive, I will join your cause and bring you victory against the Imperial scum," I spat out. I had always held a grudge against the Imperial Legion but their choice to execute me for no reason didn't help me see them in a good light.

Ulfric stared at me and then gave me a curt nod. Nothing more was said between us; it was a long time before I saw him again.

As we escaped the city, I learned that the officer's name was Ralof. He seemed remarkably surprised at how skilled I was with a blade as we fought our way through Imperial soldiers.

I stayed with Ralof in Riverwood so I could rest up and heal my wounds. Once I made it to Whiterun to warn Jarl Balgruuf of the dragon attacks, I found out the reason for my existence.

Most people don't even use my real name. I am called Dragonborn, or Dovahkiin. I had the body of a mortal and the soul of the dragon. It was my destiny to destroy the evil dragon Alduin and restore peace to Tamriel.

A year later when I dealt Alduin that final blow I fell to my knees and cried for the first time in years. I didn't even know why I wept. The threat was over.

I didn't stop there. As the Last Dragonborn, I had some loose ends to tie up. My biggest concern was taking a boat trip to Solstheim to defeat the First Dragonborn. Miraak proved to be a bigger threat than Alduin was. I was almost killed in that battle, but after it was over my thu'um became stronger than ever. The Greybeards were astonished at how far I had come since I first discovered that I was Dragonborn.

To my dismay, I was one of the most famous people in Skyrim. I was talked about constantly even though most had no idea what I looked like. A lot of old-fashioned Nords were certain that the Dovahkiin was a man. It didn't matter to me what other people thought. I preferred to protect my anonymity. When others found out who I really was, I was either admired or feared. Most people who knew about me never looked at me as a normal person. I hated being treated as an abnormality. Despite this, my power has come in handy in many situations that could have meant death for me or a comrade.

Now, two years since that day in Helgen, I was finally going to fulfill my promise to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. The war raged on and the people of Skyrim were growing tired of the death and destruction of their homeland. It needed to end soon and I hoped I could finally help lead the Stormcloaks to victory.

Finally after what seemed like forever, I saw the Windhelm Stables through the snow storm. I paid for a safe place for Shadowmere to sleep in for the night and I grabbed my stuff to try to make my way through the snow to the city's entrance.

The poor guard in front of the door signaled the men on top to open the gate. The great metal door heaved open and I squeezed in, along with the other travellers trying to find a place to stay for the night.

I sighed with jubilation when I saw the city. It had been a long time since I had even visited this hold. Windhelm was a very old city full of history. It was still early in the day, so my first inclination was to rent a room at Candlehearth Hall and wash up before going to the Palace of the Kings to talk to Ulfric.

Most of the residents recognized me and greeted me accordingly. I tried to be nice to everyone I met; therefore I had no prejudice against any race. Throughout my adventures in Skyrim, I had met some really good people and additionally some really bad ones. I refused to damn an entire race just for the actions of a handful.

Once I checked into the Inn, I gave the barkeep coin to use their bathhouse. This type of wandering life was something I was accustomed to. After my bath, I stared at myself in the mirror. Except for the long scar under my left eye that was almost 3 inches long, my pearl white face was almost flawless. Although I didn't really think I was pretty, I supposed that I saw the draw for men. I figured that since men seemed to fall in love with me wherever I went, I couldn't be completely repulsive.

My long, black hair was obnoxious to tame. I had rippling curls that descended halfway down my back. It framed my face, and always seemed to bring out the shimmer of my green eyes. I brushed it out so it fell down the front of my armour in waves. I wanted to look somewhat respectable. I learned that it wasn't a wise thing to look like a peasant in front of a jarl.

After grabbing a quick lunch, I walked down the busy streets of Windhelm. I rolled my eyes at the men whose mouths dropped open when they gazed on me. I hated the attention. Men didn't understand that I wasn't willing to bed them. After what happened to me as a child I couldn't give myself to any man. Once I had healed, I had promised myself that I wouldn't lay with a man for anything less than love. I knew though that with the kind of woman I was, I didn't deserve love. I had never felt it. Fondness, yes, but love…I wasn't even sure it existed.

(~~)

The guards at the Palace of the Kings let me in immediately when they recognized that I was the Dragonborn of Legend. I had been here before, many times actually when dealing with the murders that were happening in Windhelm. Ulfric was never around at this time, so my dealings were merely with his Steward, Jorleif.

Ulfric Stormcloak was sitting on his throne at the end of the long hall arguing with his housecarl and friend Galmar Stone-Fist. The throne room had a large echo to it, so I could hear every word they were saying if I had decided to pay attention.

They took no notice of me as I made my way to the end of the dining table to interrupt their conversation. I saw my friend Jorleif sitting at the table eating lunch. He looked up from his plate and gasped when he saw me. "By the Nine!" He exclaimed, standing up. "Dragonborn, could that really be you?" Ulfric and Galmar stopped talking at the mention of the word Dragonborn. They were both sizing me up, probably wondering how this skinny Nord woman could possibly be the Dovahkiin.

I grinned at Jorleif. "Indeed."

The small Nord pulled me into a hug. He picked me up and spun me around as if I weighed nothing. "Talos, is it ever good to see you!" He laughed when he set me down.

I laughed with him. "It has been a while, hasn't it?"

"Jorleif," Ulfric interrupted in his deep voice. We all turned to look at him. He didn't take his curious eyes off of me when he asked, "How is it that you know the Dragonborn?"

"She's the one who solved the series of murders in our hold milord," he replied.

Ulfric cockily sat on his throne like most of the jarls in Skyrim. "Is that true Dragonborn?" He asked me.

"Yes my Jarl," I replied with a smirk. "It seemed like the guard were too busy with the war to find the murderer themselves."

His eyebrows flew up in surprise. "You sure give your opinion readily for so young a woman."

I bowed my head to him. "Thank you," I said hiding my smile. I didn't think he meant it to be a compliment, but it was a custom to let him know I was grateful anyways.

"What is your real name?" Ulfric asked me.

"Skadi," I replied. "My mother had a fascination with the old gods," I smiled.

He propped his chin up with his right hand and observed me carefully. I knew he had no idea what to think of me. We hadn't talked since Helgen and it was clear from his lost expression that he didn't recognize me from then. He was staring at me as if he was trying to remember where he had seen me from.

A year ago, I probably would have seen him again if I had succumbed to the wishes of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater of Whiterun. Balgruuf wanted me to talk to the Greybeards to work out some negotiation process that involved General Tullius and Ulfric Stormcloak. I refused because I knew I didn't have time for that; I had to go find Alduin immediately. Eventually, upon furious persuasion from my part, Balgruuf relented and let me use Dragonsreach to capture my new dragon friend Odahviing so I could find out where Alduin was hiding.

As Ulfric stared at me, I had thought that he may ask me where he had seen me before, but instead he said, "What brings you to Windhelm Dragonborn?"

"I'm here to join your cause," I replied.

Galmar advanced towards me. "Why do you wish to fight for us?"

I looked him straight in the eye. He was a fairly big Nord, but I had taken down men twice his size. "I have a score to settle with the Imperial guard. But other than that, Skyrim is my home. I wish to fight for it."

"Well Ulfric, what do you think?" Galmar turned to the jarl.

"We are always looking for the strong of spirit. Perhaps she'll be an asset," Ulfric said, contemplating my worth.

An asset…Really? I killed the World-Eater and these imbeciles are debating on whether or not I was capable for a war. Galmar looked me over. I was short, skinny and I knew I didn't look like much. Little did they know that what I lacked in brutal strength, I made up for in stealth. "If it's an issue on my prowess in battle, I assure you – "

"Perhaps the standard test then, Galmar?" Ulfric interrupted me.

Galmar grunted. "Perhaps." He scrutinized me. "I want you to go to the Serpentstone Island and kill an Ice Wraith."

I stared back at him. Was he insane? "An Ice Wraith?" I asked sceptically. "Do you realize that I travelled to Sovngarde and back to defeat Alduin?"

"That's not my concern. It is a test for those I'm not sure about. Will you do it or not?" He growled.

"Of course I will. I'll be back," I smiled optimistically.

"We shall see," he said pessimistically.

As I was about to leave, Ulfric spoke to me again. "Skadi, have you eaten?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Um, yeah, sort of – "

"Great. Sit down," he ordered.

Grudgingly, I sat down on an empty chair across from where Jorleif was still eating his lunch. I watched as Ulfric got up off his throne and sat down in the chair beside me. He started grabbing a plate of food. "Help yourself," he said to me.

Strangely, I found myself really enjoying the sound of his voice. It was deep, but pleasant somehow. He glanced over at me, and kept his gaze on my face for a long time. I realized that he was trying to wear me down, and I wondered if he used this technique to win over the women he liked to bed.

I, on the other hand didn't get flustered quite so easily. "Is there something on my face my Jarl?" I asked politely. From how close he was to me, I really noticed how the war was written all over his face. He really was quite handsome; that thought sent a foreign feeling of butterflies into my stomach.

He smirked. "Were you born in Skyrim?"

"Yes sir." I bit into a leg of chicken.

He narrowed his eyes. "Do you have a criminal past? Perhaps I've seen you on a Wanted Poster? You seem so familiar to me."

I laughed. "My secrets are my own."

"Fair enough. But tell me Skadi, have we met before?" He asked irritably.

"Indeed we have," I gave him a teasing smile.

He raised an eyebrow. "And where may that have been?"

I sighed. "If I just simply tell you that will just raise more questions."

He grunted. "How about the whole story then?"

"As you wish sir." I took a slow sip of water only to find myself being watched by three sets of expectant eyes. "I was born in Skyrim and lived here for many years. I've been through all sorts of hardship – "

Ulfric snorted. "What do you know about hardships? You're so young; twenty perhaps?" He snapped.

"Twenty-two," I muttered.

He glared at me. "You're still a baby; perhaps even a virgin."

I choked on the water I was drinking at that moment. Don't use Unrelenting Force on Ulfric, don't do it, I thought, trying to contain my anger. If it were any other man who had chided me they would have gotten a nice visit from my fist.

I swallowed back my rage and gave Ulfric a loaded smile. Galmar and Jorleif were watching our exchange with genuine interest. I knew they were wondering if I would be able to come back from this first blow. "I am much younger than you," I finally said. "But believe me; I have been through my fair share of suffering. Suffering you wouldn't understand."

"What would you know of my suffering?" His voice was full of acid.

"I know what happened with the Thalmor. Just as you, I know what it's like to feel the absence of hope. I know what it's like to think you're never going to live again. Believe me; I know more than you think I do." I said quietly.

He was silent for a while before saying, "You have done your research about me then?"

"Yes. I know about your life with the Greybeards. You were merely an adolescent when the Great War started in 4E 171. Now it's over thirty years later, so perhaps you'd be what, fifty?" I chided.

He glared at me, but said nothing. I shrugged. "Why guess your age? Why don't we just lift up your neck and count the rings like those botany researchers do with the trees?" I said sarcastically.

Galmar and Jorleif laughed quite loudly. I smirked at Ulfric, who gave me one of the iciest stares I had ever encountered. "Since you're in the mood to weave tales Dragonborn, perhaps you could tell me where we have met?" He growled over the chuckling of his comrades.

Galmar was still grinning, and Jorleif looked down into his mug of ale to try to contain himself. I gave Ulfric a half turn of my body. "In my late 19th year, I crossed the border to Cyrodiil to finish some business."

"What sort of business?" Galmar asked.

I shrugged. "Nothing of consequence. But needless to say, I ended up in prison. One day, I escaped in nothing but my prisoner robes."

"You escaped prison?" Ulfric asked sceptically. "Exactly what business were you in?"

I smiled, but chose to ignore his question. "I made my way to the Skyrim-Cyrodiil border, only to find that there was an ambush waiting for a certain jarl." I stared right at Ulfric, and his eyes went wide in realization. "I was caught in the ruckus and somehow became unconscious. And, what do you think happened when I woke up?" I asked in mock surprise.

"I can only guess," Ulfric mumbled into a mug of water.

"Indeed. I woke up beside you, Ralof and a horse thief whose only desire was to bed me before his head was removed from his body," I snapped.

Ulfric frowned. "I remember that you threatened to cut off his balls."

I smirked. "It isn't wise to talk bad about the dead."

He sighed. "I didn't know that that was you. You looked quite different back on that day." He raked his eyes over my body, lingering on my breast for a few seconds.

Do not use your thu'um against him, I chanted inside my head. "I had just escaped from prison," I snapped. "Pardon me if I didn't have the time to find a bathhouse."

He smiled. "I didn't mean it that way. You were beautiful then and you're even more breathtaking now," he said smoothly.

I snorted, unfazed. "Thanks."

"I seem to recall that you promised me two years ago that you would join my cause against the Empire."

Was that a question? "Yes, and I'm here to fulfil that promise."

"Why didn't you come to Windhelm as soon as you and Ralof escaped Helgen?" He accused.

"Are you daft?" I snapped. "As soon as I escaped Helgen, I found out that I was the fucking Dragonborn. Alduin was on the top of my list of priorities. I apologize that I had bigger things to worry about than your ridiculous war." I said sardonically.

"If my war is so ridiculous, why do you wish to fight for me?" He said, his voice rising to a fevering pitch.

I glared at him. "Because I made a promise to you."

"What?" He looked surprised.

"I don't believe in a lot of your policies, but I made a decision that day in Helgen to help you. I believe that I could be a good ally to you. It's your decision whether you will have me or not."

Ulfric exhaled sharply and exchanged glances with Galmar. The housecarl smiled knowingly. I raised an eyebrow at this, and when Ulfric turned his eyes onto me, I felt my stomach flip. What just happened?

"Skadi, perhaps..." He hesitated. "Perhaps I was too harsh."

My eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Oh?"

His eyes searched my face and I found myself staring back at him lost in his expression. What's happening? Why can't I look away? It was like he had some kind of hold on me. "You're a feisty woman," he remarked quietly.

I couldn't answer. Where was he going with this? "I don't usually do this," he started. "But I think for you, I could make an exception."

"Do what?" I asked reluctantly.

"I'd like you to become my mistress," he stated. My eyes went wide and I gaped at his face to determine whether he was kidding or not.

He wasn't.

"Of course," he continued, "if it's a question of coin, I have to tell you that you'll be compensated quite handsomely."

"You're serious?" I sputtered.

"Indeed, Dragonborn I am."

"Do you really think that I'd bed you just for some coin? I am no whore!" I yelled at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "I know you're not a whore. If I wanted a whore, I'd go out and get one. The arrangement I was thinking of would surely last more than one night."

I laughed bitterly. "I wouldn't bed you if you were the last man in Skyrim," I hissed.

It was obvious that he didn't expect to be rejected. He was so used to getting what he wanted. I was an obstacle that he didn't expect to get in his way. I stood up from the wooden chair and stared down at the fuming figure of the Jarl. "I wouldn't be your mistress any more than I'd be Galmar's," I retorted. "No offense Galmar."

Galmar held up his hands in defense. He was trying to contain his laughter at my rebuff of his friend. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my Jarl," I said his title with extreme malevolence. "I have an Ice Wraith to kill."

I turned on my heel and started to walk away. "Dragonborn!" Ulfric's voice thundered throughout the throne room. I stopped walking and gave him an annoyed half-turn. "Bring me the fucking teeth," he growled.

I gave him a scornful bow and stormed my way to the exit. The last thing I heard before I left the Palace was Galmar's laughter, and one phrase: "You have to admit Ulfric, she's a spit-fire!"