(Hi everyone! I just wanted to say thank you for reading and that I hope you enjoy my story. This is my first fanfiction on here, and I can't wait to get some feedback. :) I know this chapter goes kind of slow and is short, but it's just a bit of history behind the main character before everything starts unfolding. :3 Comments and reviews make me happy.^^ Oh! And just so you know, some of the events won't happen exactly as they did in the game. Some will, some won't. Now, enjoy. :) )

Willow tugged her fur cloak up closer to her face, hoping the thick hood would block some of the bone-chilling, icy wind from stealing her breath away. She was just outside of Whiterun; the Wood Elf had went hunting during the early hours of the morning, successfully killing two plump rabbits and a quail. Willow always tried to keep her food supply stocked full... She never knew when she might need it. Fresh fruits, crisp vegetables, and dried meats filled the pantries and shelves in her small kitchen.

Her steps quickened as the last rays of golden sun passed behind the long stretch of jagged mountaintops. She wanted to reach Breezehome before nightfall; winters in Skyrim were terribly harsh. The frigid air could pull all the oxygen from a traveler's lungs, and the heavy blankets of snow made it hard to get anywhere.

After killing her first dragon and unknowingly saving the lives of Whiterun's citizens, the Jarl more than willingly appointed her as Thane, also graciously giving her the key to the small, empty cottage by the name of Breezehome located in the Plains district. He ignored her humble excuses about not needing anything in return, urging her to become the Thane and settle down in Whiterun with no intent on accepting anything but yes as an answer.

When the people got word of Willow's exploits, whispers followed her everywhere she stepped foot.

"There's the Dragonborn..."

"She used her voice to kill that dragon...!"

"I heard that she stole its very soul."

Growing up on the streets of Riften, Willow wasn't used to this kind of attention. As a matter of fact, it made her downright uncomfortable. Throughout much of her childhood and adolescent years, no one had ever given her a second glance, not wanting to waste their time on an orphan... a street rat. Willow scraped by as she got older in life by being a thief. She pick-pocketed, stole food, did whatever she could to survive. Never had she depended on any one else but herself. She had been such a successful thief that even the Thieves' Guild themselves had never saw or heard of her, and they were always quick to try and recruit new members, their eyes constantly peeled.

Her sad life in Riften was due to her parents dying when she was very young. They had been on a perilous journey through the bandit-infested lands outside of their hometown, and had told her to stay safe in the confines of their home. Being the obedient daughter that she was, Willow waited patiently for days, and then weeks.

They never returned.

Once the news spread that little Willow of Raymond and Silvia Redmoon was living by herself at the tender young age of six, the people would hear nothing of it. It didn't matter that bright-eyed, long-haired baby Willow could already take care of herself.

The harsh, spiteful owner of Riften's orphanage, named Grelod the Kind, cared nothing for her or any of the other children. She was hateful and repeatedly reminded the parentless offspring that they were all alone and that no one loved them. She made life at the orphanage a living hell.

Willow kept to herself, unwilling to become attached to any of the others for fear of having them slip away like her mother and father had.

When an orphan reached fifteen, they were free to do as they pleased. Willow immediately left the orphanage and began living on the streets, stealing what she could when she needed food or coin. This poor excuse for a life continued until she was eighteen. Her thieving skills had skyrocketed by this point; after three years of picking locks and pockets day in and day out, there was no way she wouldn't have gained a profusion of experience in the "Dark Arts."

Willow left Riften with what little gold she had accumulated over her time out on the streets, dedicating her time to traveling and adventuring, wishing to make a better life for herself than what she had been used to.

Now, she was twenty-one years old.

She had seen many things, done many more, and now had a place to call home in Whiterun. Willow just had to figure out how she was going to cope with the new knowledge of being the Dragonborn.