The Dragonborn Inn
(Disclaimer: I do not own the world-setting of Skyrim, the concept of the Dragonborn, or anything owned by Bethesda. All the "Dragonborn" characters in this story were created by my daughter, Amanda, and myself for our games. This story is dedicated to her, since it was her idea in the first place. This is a one-shot, unless enough positive reviews are received. Please read and review; thank you.)
Azura looked around her with pride. Her experiment had worked! The Bosmer girl, named unwittingly for the Daedric Prince of dusk and dawn, gave a little skip as she roamed the chambers of the Bannered Mare—or what appeared to be that fine establishment—unhindered and unrestricted. She had the place to herself at a time of day when it would normally be bustling with activity. Even the proprietor, Hulda, was nowhere in sight.
For the last several months, Azura had been working on a way to create a pocket of space which only she—and a few select people—could access. It was meant to be somewhere she could go where no one could bother her. The demands of being both Dragonborn and Arch-Mage were taking their toll on her, and while she would live longer than a human, she was still very young and felt those pressures keenly.
Her experiments with the Atronach Forge had had more failures than successes, and some of those failures had been huge, needing immediate attention to resolve them. But finally she had discovered a combination of ingredients, including her own blood, which when added to the receptacle had created a doorway through which she had stepped into this personal space. She knew the risk she was taking was huge. There was every possibility that when she stepped through she would become trapped, and her world would lose its Dragonborn forever.
That was something she had discovered in her research: other worlds, other dimensions, lying neatly stacked right next to hers. Worlds in which she was not the Dragonborn, someone else was. At first the concept had been mind-boggling, but the more she studied, researched, experimented, the more she accepted this truth.
It was for that reason that she decided to place the location of her personal space at the Bannered Mare, including a splinter of wood from the door of the one in her own world. She'd found it stuck to her sleeve and inspiration had struck.
Now, looking around her once more, Azura wondered if her other theory was correct—that not only would she be able to access this pocket realm, but others of the Dragonborn blood could also. She would know soon. It was almost time. She'd sent a message to her friend Wynter, who had been her closest friend at the College, and who had helped her during the entire "Eye of Magnus" scandal, as the mages called it.
If her theory proved true, her friend Wynter would receive her letter, but so would the Wynter in another dimension—who also had a friend named Azura—who happened to be the Dragonborn there.
The door of the Bannered Mare opened, and Azura turned with a smile on her face, which fell as a Khajiit walked through the door.
"Wow, it's dead in here tonight," the cat-girl commented. "Hey, Azura, I got your letter."
"Crystal?" Azura blinked. Her Khajiit friend Crystal was a Dragonborn? She hadn't anticipated that! The Crystal she knew was a hardened thief with connections to the Dark Brotherhood, much like Wynter had been before she'd met her husband, Azura's Housecarl Argis. Wynter had reformed, but as far as she knew, Crystal was still Guild Master and Listener. They were paths she had chosen not to follow.
"Come in, Crystal," Azura said graciously. She didn't recall sending the Khajiit a letter, but decided she would have to accept these little surprises.
"Is there any wine?" the Khajiit asked, rummaging behind the bar. "Where's Hulda tonight?"
"Hulda won't be here," the Bosmer girl said. "We'll have to help ourselves."
"Now, that's more like it!" Crystal pulled back her lips and showed her fangs, in a Khajiit version of a smile. "Let me get a few rounds of mead in me and you can tell me what's so important."
"Well, I—" Azura began, but the door was opening again. A pale-haired Nord woman garbed in Guild Master leather armor walked in, and Azura was relieved to see her friend Wynter. But this Wynter seemed different from the one Azura knew. It had to be the Dragonborn blood.
"Azura!" Wynter smiled when she saw the Bosmer girl. "Hey, where is everybody?" she asked, looking around.
"It's just us tonight," Azura started to say, but the door opened again. A black-scaled Argonian with red war-paint on his face slipped inside and sat at a table in the corner. "Oh, no!" Azura exclaimed. "Not you! You can't possibly be—" she broke off as the lizard-man reached for his weapon.
Immediately the pale-haired Nord girl jumped in between them.
"I wouldn't, Scaly," she growled. "Or I'll fus ro dah your tail into next week!"
"Stop!" Azura cried. "Halcyon, what are you doing here? How did you get in?"
The Argonian eyed the women suspiciously. "I came in for a drink, Bosmer. I'm entitled to have a drink in a public inn, aren't I? And this pale one had best hold her tongue, especially making idle threats. She could no more use the Thu'um than you can."
Azura moaned. It was going downhill rapidly. She hadn't anticipated that the Argonian, Halcyon, would also be a Dragonborn in some alternate reality. She intensely disliked the man, knowing he was the least ethical person of her acquaintance, even throwing the Khajiit, Crystal, into the mix.
What have I done? she silently moaned. The door opened once more, and all eyes turned as several people came in at once. The man in the lead held the door open for the others. As they drifted in, Azura took note of these latest Dragonborn: an Altmer female, who settled next to the fire, a Nord male who went immediately to the bar and sat next to Crystal, an Imperial man in Dragonbone armor and a Breton woman in Arch-Mage robes who took a table at the back together.
Summoning up her nerve, Azura spoke to each one in turn. The Nord male, Izaiah, was known to her, but the other three were strangers. The Altmer introduced herself as Sylfaen, the Breton as Alorra Demeris, and the Imperial as Marcus Navarro.
Wynter spoke up. "Azura, you seem to know what's going on here. Why don't you explain it to the rest of us?" A chorus of nods and assents went around the room, and nervously, Azura stepped to the head of the room and stood where Mikael usually did when he performed.
"I…um…okay, everyone," she began hesitantly. "I'm not sure how all of you found this place, but—"
"You're joking, right?" the man at the bar, Izaiah, sneered. "This is the Bannered Mare. Everyone knows where that is. It's just odd that Hulda's not here, and I don't see Saadia, either."
"Okay, okay," Azura said impatiently, waving him to shush. "Let me start by saying this isn't the Bannered Mare, though it might look like it, and you certainly came through the doors of the Bannered Mare in your own worlds."
"What foolishness is this?" the Argonian hissed.
"Let her talk, Halcyon," Crystal growled, padding over to his table. "Have an ale and shut up for once." She plunked a bottle down in front of the lizard-man and sat in a chair opposite him. He glared at her but kept silent.
"Some of you know me, some of you don't," Azura continued. "I'm not sure yet how that happened. I was experimenting at the Atronach Forge at Winterhold and created a pocket world that is accessible only if you are Dragonborn, which clearly, all of you are."
"That's impossible!" the Imperial man said, forcefully. "Everyone knows there can only be one Dragonborn at a time. And that's me."
The Breton girl with him coughed delicately. "Um...Marcus?" she began. "I hate to have to break your delusion of grandeur, but I'm the Dragonborn!"
His eyes widened as the rest of the patrons clamored that honor for themselves.
"Please, everyone!" Azura called out, raising her hands for quiet. "You are all Dragonborn, in your own worlds. Some of you know others here, who aren't Dragonborn in your reality, but they are in theirs."
"You're not explaining things very well, Azura," Wynter said. "I'm confused, and I know the others are. How can we all be Dragonborn?"
"I'm trying to explain, Wynter," the Bosmer girl said helplessly.
"Let me see if I've got this right," the Breton girl said. "My name is Alorra Demeris, and I woke up in a cart bound for Helgen and execution by the Imperials until the dragon Alduin attacked and I was able to escape. Does that sound familiar to the rest of you?"
Nods of agreement swept the room.
"Okay," Alorra continued, "so far we all have that in common. In my world, Marcus is one of the Imperials I came to trust."
"And in my world—if I've got this right," Marcus interjected, "Alorra and I never met until after I—" he broke off as the Khajiit called out, "No spoilers, Imperial boy! Some here might not have gotten that far yet!"
Azura turned to her friend. "You understand then?" she asked in relief.
"Sure, I think I get it," the cat-girl said, setting down another empty mead bottle. Azura noticed in consternation that there seemed to be an alarming number of them in front of the Khajiit. "You're saying we all come from different realities, and in each one, we are the Dragonborn."
"It makes perfect sense!" Alorra exclaimed, but Azura could still see frowns of puzzlement on the faces of some of the others.
"Why would you want to do that?" Sylfaen, the Altmer woman, asked. "I've experimented at the Atronach Forge, too, of course, but I've only done things that others wrote down as successful."
Azura had the grace to look shame-faced. "I was lonely," she admitted. "At first I just wanted a space I could go to where no one could find me. But then I realized there were parallel worlds out there, and that I might not be the Dragonborn in them. That got me to wondering if there were any other Dragonborn at all, and if they felt as lonely as I did."
Sylfaen nodded. "No one can truly understand who we are, or what we've been through," she admitted.
"I disagree," Wynter said. "My husband Argis has been with me on numerous campaigns, and he understands completely."
"Argis?" Alorra asked sharply. "Are we talking about Argis the Bulwark? You can't be married to him, he's my husband!"
"Oh, boy, here we go," Izaiah muttered and left the bar to join the Khajiit and the Argonian at their table.
"Wynter, wait—" Azura began.
"In your dreams, Breton!" Wynter snarled. "Argis loves me, and there's no way in Oblivion you're taking him away from me!"
"Alorra!" Marcus protested. "I thought you pledged yourself to me!"
"Why would I do that?" Alorra demanded. "I mean, I like you, Marcus, but we've only ever been friends!"
"Kaan drem ov!" Sylfaen Shouted. Instantly the others stopped fighting and turned to look at her in puzzlement. She shrugged. "Well, it works for animals, anyway, and at least it got you to stop bickering. Haven't you listened to anything Azura has told you this evening? You're all from different realms of reality. The Argis you married—" here she looked at Wynter, "is not the same Argis you married." She indicated Alorra. "You should at least acknowledge that you have similar tastes in men." She turned to Marcus. "And as for you, this isn't the Alorra you know. This one followed a different path."
Marcus sat back down and scowled unhappily into his tankard.
"I suppose next you'll be telling me the Imperials won the Civil War," Wynter huffed. Sylfaen rolled her eyes. So much for trying to mediate a peace! The room erupted into loudly raised voices once more as some of the Dragonborn insisted they had fought for the "right" side. Alorra stepped out of the way and moved to the Altmer's side.
"Some of us haven't taken sides yet," she muttered, and the high elf murmured her agreement.
Azura stood helplessly while arguments escalated around her. This wasn't what she wanted! She had been hoping to create a space where those who were like her could come in and relax, and talk to others who were unique in their own worlds—the only ones who could truly understand what it meant to be Dragonborn. Not this…this anarchy!
Wynter saw the dismay on her friend's face and leaped up on a table.
"Enough!" she yelled above the noise, but few paid her any attention.
Suddenly a ripple of magical energy went out, centered on Alorra, and everyone calmed down. She lowered her staff. "Go ahead, Wynter," she said quietly.
"Listen, everyone," the pale-haired Nord woman said, "instead of fighting each other over our differences, we should all be celebrating what we have in common. We are Dragonborn. In each of our realities, if I understand this right, there is no one else like us. No one knows who we truly are, or what we've gone through. Not even—" here she blushed at her prior affirmation—"not even those closest to us. Azura had only the best of intentions in creating this place."
"I agree," drawled Crystal, from behind her growing pile of empties. "We shouddent be figh'ing eashch ovver." The Khajiit's ears looked droopy, a sure sign she'd already consumed massive quantities of alcohol.
Marcus stood up. "Forgive me," he said with a respectful bow to Azura, "but I don't honestly know that I can accept this place. It seems wrong to me to be playing around with other people's perceptions of reality."
Halcyon rumbled, "On that, at least, we can agree."
Azura climbed on the table next to Wynter. "I meant no harm," she pleaded with them. "I guess—I guess I just wanted to find others who'd been through the same as I'd been through."
"You have," Sylfaen said quietly. "But we are all of us so different in our personalities, in our heritage and backgrounds, and in the way we have become Dragonborn, that it seems naïve to assume we would all just 'get along and play nice' here."
"But that's exactly what we need to do," Wynter urged. "We need to leave all of that at the door when we come in here."
"In point of fact," said Alorra, "we all of us—each and every one—have two things in common: we are Dragonborn, and we all survived Helgen and what immediately followed. We might have taken different paths, but every one of us went to Riverwood, Whiterun, Bleak Falls Barrow, the Western Watchtower and then to High Hrothgar. What we've done afterwards might have diverged, but we all have that much in common."
There was silent consideration of this point.
"I don't know about the rest of you," Sylfaen said calmly, "but I rather like the idea of getting away from reality, if only for a little bit. I do feel as though my soul has been refreshed. I will remember this night fondly."
Azura shook her head sadly. "No, Sylfaen, you won't," she said. "None of you will. When you leave through that door tonight, you'll be back in your own worlds, and you won't remember any of this."
"What, none of it?" Izaiah asked, pushing Crystal off his shoulder as she slumped against him.
"You'll remember you had a nice time…well, mostly," Azura conceded. "But you won't remember who you were with, unless you know that person in your own world. I had to build it that way."
"Then what is the point of having this place at all?" he demanded crossly.
"The point is that we had a chance to relax with people just like us," Alorra said.
"Seems like a waste of time to me," Izaiah grumbled. "I don't know if I'll be coming back."
Azura bit her tongue to keep her patience. "This place won't be open all the time," she explained. "Only when I open it. I've figured out a way to get word to anyone who wants to come back. By the door is a bowl with some small crystal stars in it. If you want to come back, take one before you leave. When I open up this space again, the star will glow, and you will know you can come back to the Bannered Mare in your reality and end up here."
"I could sell this," Halcyon murmured, examining the tiny stars appreciatively. Azura frowned.
"I wish you wouldn't," she said crossly. "I went to a lot of trouble making those. Besides, you probably wouldn't get much for them."
"If we won't be remembering this place when we leave," Sylfaen began, wondering, "then how will we even know what the stars are for?"
"This is true," Marcus concurred. "Assuming I wanted to come back, how would I remember it?"
"The magic is built into it," Azura said simply. "If the star glows, it will trigger your memory about this place. Then the choice is yours if you wish to come back."
"To th' Dragonborn Inn, ish that it?" Crystal slurred, before passing out.
Azura smiled. "Yes! To the Dragonborn Inn! It's a perfect name for this place! And now, I'm going to have to close this up. I need to be the last one, so you'll all have to leave in front of me."
"What do we do with a drunken Khajiit?" Halcyon rumbled. There was an edge of amusement in the question.
"Roll her out the door and leave her lying there," Izaiah grinned. "Grab her arms; I'll get her legs."
"Be gentle with her, boys," Wynter said wryly.
"Why?" Izaiah shrugged. "She won't remember it in the morning." They half-dragged, half-carried Crystal to the door, which Wynter held open for them. She tucked a star into the Khajiit's belt pouch before they left. She noticed that despite their grumblings earlier, both the Nord and the Argonian took a star.
"Thank you for a most entertaining evening, Azura," Sylfaen said, taking one herself. "I wonder how many other Dragonborn might find their way here, without a star to guide them?" She smiled and left.
"That's something I didn't anticipate," Azura admitted. "I thought it would only work on people I knew from my own reality."
"That's what you get for playing around with magic," Alorra grinned. "I can't wait for next time!" She took a star and preceded Marcus through the door. He hesitated before leaving.
"I know you meant well," he told the Bosmer girl, "and I'm glad I won't remember this, but I wish you hadn't done this. I'm in love with Alorra—my Alorra—in my own world. To see her here tonight and know that she didn't love me, didn't choose me, well….it's a reality I wish I didn't know about."
"I'm sorry, Marcus," Azura said sincerely. "I guess I didn't think about that."
"Obviously," he said stiffly. He gave her a short, formal bow and left without taking a star.
The two remaining women looked after him in regret. "Well," Wynter commented, "you win some, you lose some."
"I never meant to hurt anyone," Azura mumbled sorrowfully. Her friend gave her a hug.
"I know you didn't. He won't be coming back, though. Focus on what you've accomplished. There are more Dragonborn out there than we ever realized. And you! I can't believe that you're one, too!" She picked up a star and carefully tucked it into her belt pouch. "Hope I don't end up selling this off by mistake," she grinned.
"You can't," Azura assured her. "Until I re-open the Dragonborn Inn, it will stay there in your pouch, invisible and forgotten."
Wynter chuckled. "You are amazing, you know that?" she asked her friend. "I'm so glad I gave up the title of Arch-Mage to you." Azura's eyes flashed.
"Hey, in my reality, I earned this all on my own!" Her Nord friend chuckled again, then grew sober.
"Just one more thing before I go," she said. "Something Sylfaen said troubles me."
"Oh?"
"Yes, she wondered how many other Dragonborn might find their way here without the star," Wynter mused. "I mean, you didn't invite all of them; only me. And yet Crystal and Izaiah and Halcyon—all people you know, by the way—showed up here tonight. And Sylfaen, Alorra and Marcus arrived, and none of us know them in our own worlds. So I kind of wonder also, who might show up next time?"
Azura shrugged. "I honestly have no idea, Wynter," she admitted. "It might have something to do with the Dragonborn entering their Bannered Mare at the exact time I open up the Dragonborn Inn, I don't know. I guess we'll just have to wait and see."
"Living life on the edge," Wynter chuckled. "I never knew you were such a risk-taker!"
Azura gave a mysterious smile. "Oh, my dear friend," she said. "There's a lot about me you don't know!"
Wynter hugged her and left. Azura took one last look around, satisfied. It went better than she expected, despite the snags she'd encountered. She would count this as a success. She stepped through and closed the doorway of the Dragonborn Inn.