Disclaimer: I don't own Skyrim, or anything else. I'm just using it for a minute, I swear.
Author's Note: Okay. So I haven't written anything in a while, and at 2 am I got the idea for this story. I wrote till 5, was reprimanded by my father for being up so late (early?), and finished working on chapter 1 mere minutes ago. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Thanks for taking the time to read this. If people like it, then I'll keep writing it. If not, well... I'll just eat it. For dinner. Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter One
Hi. I'm Freya. This is my story. It's boring at times, and sappy at others. But one thing I can say about my story is that it's pretty crazy. It's jam packed full of adventure, danger, and maybe even a little romance. But that depends on the way I want to tell it.
To get started, I'll tell you about meeting one of the main characters in the story. Truthfully, I wouldn't be here saying this without him. You probably wouldn't be here either. You'd just be a soul trapped in the belly of a very fat, very happy dragon named Alduin, whom you will meet later.
But for now, on with the show!
There I was, just a humble lady spending a fabulous spring day in Whiterun. The birds were chirping, the cow was mooing, and old man Eorland could be heard banging away at the Skyforge.
There was this strange woman walking around blabbing about how women are good for more things than just cooking and popping out kids. Ummm… Duh, I thought. I mean, you're talking to the DRAGONBORN here lady. I had to save the world. Which reminded me why I was there in the first place.
I had just let my follower go. Sad, right? No. The lazy bastard did nothing but drink all of my mead, pass out in random places, and make disgusting advances that went to the tune of, " Hey purdy *hic* lady. 'Ave I ever told you the story about me killin' *hic* a snowy saber cat? *hic* There I was…" blah blah blah. I must have heard that story a hundred times. At least. The only thing that counts is that I left him safe and sound somewhere in Riften. Hopefully he didn't fall into the canal in his drunken stupor. I'm sure he's fine…. I hope.
So I was on my way to the Bannered Mare to rustle me up a new follower. Hopefully a competent one. But I was feeling a little less than hopeful as I stepped into the stuffy, dimly lit interior of the building. The large fire in the center of the floor was uncomfortably hot, especially in the spring, and it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the light.
When I could see more clearly, I instantly started scoping out the patrons, trying to find one brave or stupid enough to join me on my many various quests, and one instantly caught my eye. There was a large Nord fellow sitting on a bench staring into the fire. He had a large battle axe strapped to his back, and was staring so intensely at the fire I was worried he might attack it at any time. But hey, it was worth a shot.
"By the Nine, it's so hot in here. Spring is roaring in early. Too damned early for my tastes, anyway." I find that cursing and invoking the Gods tends to get more attention that sitting still, looking all pretty, and waiting for them to come to me. This guy? Nothing. He didn't even blink. So after a few seconds of staring on my part, I was back to work.
There were a few more people scattered around, including the local bard and a shady looking character sitting in the darkest corner he could find. I would have tried my luck with the bard, but he looked a bit…. Girly. He kind of sang like a girl too. I bet he would run away in a fight….I mentally giggled. I wish I had the time to test my theory.
Seeing as every other person in there was a farmer or a working woman, I guessed it was gonna have to be the broody dark guy. I hoped he wasn't a Dark Brotherhood assassin… But there was no time to worry about it. I had places to be, people to see, and dragons to slay.
As I walked over towards him and out of the glare of the fire, I could see him more clearly. I couldn't tell his race from where I was standing, but he definitely looked Nordy. Lightweight leather armor was draped over his lanky frame, and a bow rested within reach, propped against a nearby wall. As I came to a stop and slid into the seat across from him, I got a glimpse of his face. He had a strong Nordic jaw line and nose, full lips set in a straight line, and dark, grey-green eyes that were Elf-like in shape all set in a face framed by unruly midnight black hair. Maybe 25, 26 years old. All in all, a handsome specimen.
"So, stranger, I've never seen you here before," I stated in a light tone.
"That would be because I've never been here before," he returned, glancing up from where his hands rested on the table.
"Well then, may I formally welcome you to the wonderful city of Whiterun. May your stay be pleasant and relaxing." As the words spilled from my mouth, I noticed several of the people sitting around raise their heads from their tankards and stare at me.
"I really don't think you should be talking to me," the stranger replied. "You might be ostracized."
I was a little shocked. "Ostracized? For what, exactly?"
The stranger looked up from his hands and locked his eyes on mine. His gaze sent a shudder down my spine. They held such sorrow and pain for one so young. He paused for a moment, as if searching for the right thing to say. "For speaking to a half-breed," he finally said.
That was ridiculous. Half-breed? What the hell did that even mean? And how could I- the Dragonborn-be outcast for anything? Except maybe failing to defeat Alduin, but that's beside the point.
"Would you care to explain to me just what you mean by that?" By now my voice was probably louder than it should have been, and I was attracting even MORE attention. But before I could say anything else, the stranger stood (very gracefully, might I add) and grabbed his bow. In the time it took me to blink, he was disappearing through the door.
I hastily threw a few gold coins on the counter to make up for my disruption, then followed the stranger back into the streets as quickly as a lady's dignity allowed. When I stepped outside, the sun blinded me with its cheerful brightness. I quickly threw up my middle finger in its general direction.
When I could finally see again, I searched the streets for the stranger. He was striding towards the main gate, bow slung over his shoulder. I ran to catch up, throwing rushed apologies at whomever I happened to bump into in my haste. Each foot fall raised clouds of dust, reminding me that Skyrim was in dire need of rain.
"Hey, wait!" I yelled after the stranger. When I finally caught up, he spun around to face me so quickly that a nearly toppled over backwards. He stood a good head and a half taller than me, which was pretty intimidating. I expected to see anger, maybe even hatred on his face, but it was a mask of complete calm. Only his eyes told of his misery.
"What do you want, hm? To mock me and belittle me? To curse me for my parentage? Go ahead," he straightened from his slightly stooped stance and squared his shoulders as if awaiting a physical attack. His brows drew together slightly in anger.
"I just want to understand," I said quietly. "I just tried to have a conversation with someone and then all of a sudden I get yelled at? I'm the one that should be asking the questions around here." I kept my voice even and low, but my mind was raging. Who was he to talk to me like that? I'm the one that has to save the world, not him. His problems can NOT be as big as mine.
He stared at me for a moment, and eventually his posture relaxed. "You really don't know, do you? I guess you have bigger things to worry about though, being Dragonborn."
"Wait," I said, holding my splayed hands out in front of me. "You know I'm the Dragonborn?"
He half smiled, and my heart melted a teeny tiny bit. "Who doesn't know? The famous Freya is talked about throughout all of Skyrim."
My hands fell to my hips, resting on the cold strength of my steel plate armor. "Yeah? Well do I get to know who you are since you know who I am?"
He sighed, and the smile died. "Why do you want to know so badly?" he asked. "I'm not nearly as important as you are. In fact, everyone in Skyrim seems to think that dirt holds greater importance than I do."
I searched his face, looking for signs that he was joking, but found only pained sincerity. And then I got an idea. I would get the follower that I came to Whiterun for, and maybe I could help this poor beautiful sap along the way. Because helping people is what I do. I mean, I AM the Dragonborn. It's my duty to help people.
"Tell you what. I'm looking for a companion to be my back up on the road. If you tag along, you can tell me your story, and maybe I can help you. I'm not gonna promise anything because, I mean, I'm not a miracle worker. Or a god. I'm only the Dragonborn. But, you know, you can worship me if you want. I wouldn't object to that. What do you say?"
It was a risk. What if people hated him because he seduced beautiful young Nord women and then killed them while they slept peacefully? I was putting a lot at risk, but I had a feeling that this-whatever this was-was going to turn out to be something beautiful.
I stood patiently waiting for an answer, and watched flickers of emotion play across his face as he debated joining me. He sighed, looked to the west, and then looked at me out of the corner of his eye.
"I guess I could join you for a little while. Keep you from getting killed by frostbite spiders." I smiled up at him, despite the insult. I had found my follower, reluctant as he was.
When I walk down the street, this is what I see, everybody stops and they starin' at me,
I got power in my Voice and I ain't afraid to throw it, throw it, throw it…
I'm Freya and I know it.
Lol, had to do that. I don't own Sexy and I Know It. Thanks for reading!