A/N: I don't own a thing. Also, English is not my first language.

There is a sort of legend common through the minor towns and villages of north Tamriel. A living legend – one that appears at a settlement and stays within the area for a few years before departing again.

The reason? Actually, there are many for why that person is considered one. The best hunter there ever was, would say some, or the best shot (sometimes both at the same time), or that even if no-one has actually heard them speak, they are more intimidating than an angry and hungry troll. Or, by nords from Whiterun Hold, than a dragon; and they had seen plenty of those in recent years. Some even make the preposterous claim that The Hunter (as is one of their nicknames) is actually the Dragonborn, a claim that is thoroughly refuted by the Empire.

But one of the most distinctive features of this individual is the reason of their most known nickname, Hawkeye. Bright, almost glowing yellow eyes – so unnatural on any tamrielic races, but the body build does not suggest an akaviri origin.

Going by all the time Hawkeye has been seen, they are either many generations, or an elf – a rather lengthy lived elf, but not all that impossible.

From the environs of Daggerfall all through the land to Sadrith Mora, there have been even some that say they saw The Hunter south the border of Skyrim and Cyrodiil, on Bruma. There is some old drunkard on Ebonheart that would say he was threatened to leave his ship because Hawkeye wanted to use it to go to Akavir. Less than twenty years later, The Hunter was trying to sell 53 skinned pelts from bears that had been terrorizing Falkreath. But as no one could ever make them establish conversation, it is unsure if they had effectually gone to the almost mythical continent to the east.

Hawkeye was growing weary. And bored. That kind of happens when you can put an arrow between the eyes of an honest-to-y'ffre demigod (dragon) and kill it instantly without even trying. Sure, initially it had been adrenaline-pumping, life-or-death situations, but as time passed, and more and more creatures and lowlifes (with the odd innocent mixed in) that met their ends with her bow or dagger, things became to feel… boring, dare she say. Repetitive.

What was once 'oh shit we are all going to die' became 'oh for the love of Talos…' as it ended abruptly.

So she wandered the lands, looking for something interesting to do. Being part of a long lived race meant no natural death anytime soon – plus the fact that she has the soul of a dragon, or that is what the Greybeards had said – she doesn't know if she is immune to the pass of time. At least she hasn't aged a day since she wiped the floor with Alduin, the Harbinger of the End of Times. And consumed a few hundred dragon souls. Seeing that death by combat was also pretty much out of the picture, she had resorted to travel the lands, see new things, help some people that were being harassed by bears/trolls/bandits/spiders/vampires or all of the above.

She looked every nook and cranny on Skyrim by that point, so she went west and started exploring the area of High Rock before going south through the Iliac Bay to Hammerfell. She even tried to go even more south, but she was recognized by Thalmor agents and, quite honestly, she didn't that kind of entertainment.

Took out about ten justicar groups before she decided it wasn't worth the trouble going to Dominion territory. Sure, she could take on pretty much everything the Dominion had at the same time, but she didn't want to be mistaken for a bloody berserker because she genocided most of the population. At least not yet.

So she travelled through the lands that were the least patrolled by the Thalmor. With a hood constantly covering her head, just in case.

And so went the years, hunting more trolls and bears than she honestly wanted to count – not to mention she had killed the population of a sizable kingdom in bandits – doing odd jobs here and there, travelling to Akavir and Atmora to see what's there like, stumbling into what from all myths and legends appeared to be Yokuda, and accidentally getting to Lyg, the list of normal and wacky things to do seemed to get shorter and shorter.

'Is this what that old orc felt like?' She wondered, remembering of times past. She now kind of understood the old warrior in his pursuit of a good death.

Honestly the only thing she didn't do that popped in her mind was starting a family. And that's kind of difficult, for many reasons. True, there's the worry of outliving her loved ones, seeing them age and die while she stayed the same, but there's a more pressing issue with this.

She can't talk.

Well, not in the sense that she is incapable of speaking, but having the full knowledge of Dovahzul stuffed in her brain, it makes that even in the mortal tongues her voice provokes… lasting changes to the surroundings. And even a whisper is as loud as an explosion from the Red Mountain. Kind of how Arngeir barely spoke and his voice was perfectly heard all throughout High Hrothgar.

And yes, being in that place as a disciple probably hadn't been the best idea – seeing as at least she could ask and bargain prices perfectly normally after she defeated Alduin without moving a mountain or causing a meteor shower by accident.

Also, going back to the family thing, she isn't made to stay in one place for too long. Not enough for a family, anyways. Two years, and that's stretching it, before the monotony of it all strained even more her sanity.

And that's what she remembers.

It took a while to order her thoughts and memories to converge coherently enough for her consciousness to fully understand what in Oblivion was going on.

Her memories as Hawkeye, the mysterious hunter of northern Tamriel and secretly the Dragonborn, were rather blurry by the sheer amount of time it spanned. The more important bits are the better preserved – if that is the word to use in this context. The details of what surely was her death weren't present.

And die she must have.

Because she remembers what she looked like before – and it wasn't anything like this.

To start off, now she is the wrong race to be her past self. Almost unhealthy pale skin and rounded ears pointed at Nord, but the pitch black hair begged to differ. Perhaps a mix between Nord and Imperial? Maybe Breton? But then there's the only similarity to her past self, the almost glowing yellow eyes. Though that may be because this body has her soul.

Also, she is a little kid again. Just great.

…

Or is it? Now that she was somehow in the body of a human, that probably would mean she wouldn't last even a century before passing of old age in this body. This is perfect! Even if she somehow becomes the strongest being on the planet (yet again) it wouldn't be an existence of endless boredom!

To put the icing on the cake would be that she could speak again. Ooh, what if the world has changed since the last she saw it? That would be interesting!

So, trying to test if she could speak again, she inhaled deeply and, with closed eyes, said

'Ah'.

The door, the windows and the furniture all were violently pushed outwards from the room she was currently in, from a force that had its epicentre on her mouth. The bed was completely annihilated and some parts of it were embedded on the wall. The door was pushed open before being ripped from its hinges. The windows simply exploded.

Goddamit

Dracule Mihawk was tasked by his father to wake his little sister. What made him do it was the promised extended sword training he would get if he did so. There is not much more to it.

His parents, especially his father, were rather… unhappy about how their youngest turned out to be. He didn't particularly care. They'd say that he himself at her age was already speaking perfectly fluid, doing things that they considered impressive. In comparison, she hasn't even spoken one word yet. Or muttered a single sound, for that matter.

He has the feeling that his mother didn't want to interact much with her daughter because she was rather abnormal since birth. Yes, his sister apparently hadn't even cried then– not that he could testify, he was elsewhere by that time, doing something more productive than just standing around. Like practising swordsmanship.

So his father, in a self-proclaimed stroke of genius, decided that if his intelligent son were to interact more with his less bright daughter it would somehow make her absorb by osmosis his intellect, or something.

Again, Mihawk didn't really care about all this.

But imagine his surprise that when he getting to his sister's room, the door to said room just smashed outwards and flew to the opposite wall, missing his face by the length of a fly, and splintered in million pieces.

And when he looked into the room, what he saw was what he imagined a warzone to look like, with his sister in the middle covering her mouth with both hands and sporting an expression that was practically screaming Ooops. Hmm… those eyes and that posture aren't from someone who is stupid. This might get amusing.

Well, there went her dreams of speaking like a normal person again. She did notice though that while it's worse than she hoped, it's actually weaker than she expected. It's still a pain either way.

And the very next second a boy less than ten years old (by human standards, she is guessing) entered the room she was in, looking at her with speculating eyes. A pair of eyes she is quite familiar with. Big, almost glowing yellow eyes.

And there it went her hypothesis of her eyes being connected to her dragon soul. Or is this boy a Dragonborn himself? And who the heck is this brat either way?

A voice in the back of her mind answered for her: big brother.

What? She didn't have any family that she knew of. Oh, wait – it must be this body's elder brother. Well, she has seen weirder.

It's a good change of pace to see someone with the same kind of eyes as her, it made her feel less of a freak, in a way. Of course, back in Skyrim there were beings with weirder eyes – looking at you, vampires – but they were most of times caused by the influence of some Daedra or another.

So the people tended to link weird eyes with Daedra worshippers. And in many, many places that isn't seen kindly.

That may be one of the reasons she never did a deal with a Daedric Prince – no matter if it were the 'good' ones or not.

Snapping back to the present, she looked at the brat – her brother – that was looking at her with an expression that demanded an explanation, and her only answer was to look sheepish. She really couldn't risk saying anything and accidentally erasing his existence from the face of the world.

He almost imperceptibly frowned, before raising one brow. This kid was the most stone faced brat she had ever seen. Not that she had seen many, mind you.

Then he started talking in what was very obviously a reproaching tone, but by the life of her she couldn't understand a word. She resorted to look at him like he grew a second head after a while, because that surely would convey she didn't get a thing he said.

He stopped talking and thinned his eyes, looking at her suspiciously. She made a gesture as if writing, because that may be a way for her to be understood. Writing worked wonders before, albeit it was slower than talking, indeed.

He raised an eyebrow again, but it looked that he understood. He left the room without further ado, leaving her standing there awkwardly for a few moments.

When he came back, he was holding a parchment and the utensils needed for writing, which he passed to her.

Writing in this body didn't come as naturally as she would have hoped, and seeing that this body obviously didn't ever write before, the mere act of handling the quill made a strange sensation to travel through her hand and arm. Aah, right, she had forgotten how pain felt.

The result was, dare she say, a little embarrassing. The calligraphy was horrible, and in many places the ink was imprinted on an erratic mess thanks to involuntary muscular spasms. Oh, the pain, it was annoying but satisfying.

That didn't sound good. Had she become a masochist without noticing?

Her brother looked at the parchment and ignored her internal turmoil. He looked up after a while, directly at her, as if searching for something.

She didn't know if he even understood what she wrote (because she would have a challenge to read that without being the one who wrote it – it was that level of bad in her opinion) but he seemed to at least understand that she wanted to convey a message.

He then wrote something in another parchment. A… character? Multiple characters glued together? What the heck was that abomination, how many strokes did it need?

He presented it and she wrinkled her nose, while shaking her head. If that was supposed to be a written language, it wasn't like anything she ever saw. It looked more complicated than the few fragments of written Tsaesci she saw during her many travels, and she had thought that looked impractical, right there along with Dovahzul.

Communicating took more time that was really needed, in her honest opinion. The main reason was the overcomplicated and convoluted and just plain strange language that was considered the "Common Tongue" all around the world.

In her opinion, it is no wonder why being literate was not commonplace. Also, having knowledge of many different languages beyond standard Cyrodillic, like Dunmeri, Altmeri, that language used in the Courts of Hammerfell, and even Dwemeri to some degree (the amount of inscriptions of that language she had seen… well, just say that she ended up understanding words and sentences. It was boring though, as it always was laws and the like) – made her task of learning the language less difficult. That is not to say, it was an easy thing.

But enough of that – when she was at least able to get the gist of what the people around her were talking about, yet another problem arose. Many, actually.

Between her new father that was insistent on her talking after it was exposed that she wasn't really retarded (it seemed that until then she was viewed like that – how rude) and that she could write and read without problems the "Official Language" of "the World Government". Needless to say that she had refused multiple times his orders (because that they were, orders) for her to speak, but he was more stubborn than Dagon trying to conquer the mortal plane. So had been fed up with her new father's whining, she demonstrated just why talking was a bad idea.

And that was the reason why half the windows in the manor had to be replaced.

And that leads to her next problem. She was born a noble.

There are many things that she wants to say about that, but to be concise: No.

Oh no.

No.

No.

Why?

She had interacted with many nobles in her long (past?) life, and she even had honorary nobility – that was in name mostly – from different Jarls and Kings of different lands.

She never had to act like one though. And, to be honest, never with all that responsibility.

And she had to be born not only a noble, but an important one. The youngest to Archduke Dracule, or something, yada yada, from Shikkearu Kingdom.

It is too bad that her act as incapable was busted already, because she wasn't looking forward to all this nobility nonsense, like, at all.

Good thing is: she had a capable elder brother. Bad thing is: she is still a noble.

Next problem, her name: In true noble fashion, her new parents had a complete crap taste when naming their children. Her father has a strange fixation (she almost categorized it as a hard-on) for the syllable 'Mi' while her mother has a strange hobby of everything that included birds. So of course, she and her brother just had to be named both with 'Mi' and the name of a bird. Mihawk doesn't sound all that bad (it's still hilarious though) – but her name…

No.

Just no.

Why?

She prefers to be known as You-Know-Who instead of her actual name, because she can't just do like her previous life and just call herself Hawkeye because that is a descriptive that could be perfectly used for all her family.

And to drown her sorrows on the matter, she resorted to read books. That and trying to escape, true, but the attempts on the latter were foiled way too quickly to be considered as such, really.

Most of the books were in that abomination of a language they call the "Common Tongue", but being in a rather wealthy environment, there were some books that were written in the 'more sophisticated' good old Cyrodillic. Though it had a few differences here and there to the one she was accustomed to, it was comprehensible.

On the good side, the world is completely unrecognizable for her. The overabundance of little islands and archipelagos and the lack of any sizable landmass beyond one inhospitable Red Line made for an interesting map. More so with the whole backwards mountain and the "sea where common sense goes to die" – although she had seen weirder. Also, there is plenty to explore! It is known that new islands are discovered routinely, and there is no shortage of new things to see.

Her wanderlust was starting to kick very hard.

But there's always a but to everything. And in this case is: the head of the World Government.

Much like the old Tamrielic Empire, there are people more important than others. And laws, many laws. Laws that may be imposed a little bit too zealously in her opinion.

And as the name implies, the World Government governs, well, the world.

And that leads to her biggest problem yet.

The "heads of state" (although it looked more complicated than that) were the Tenryuubito. Or Celestial Dragons.

She planted her face against the table. Hard.

Why it always has to be dragons?

She has reached the conclusion that she ended up either very, very far into the future, or an alternate timeline altogether. And knowing Akatosh, that old dragon-god-thing was perfectly capable of having one too many coffee break that sent her backwards and then sideways into times unknown. She was kind of a descendant of him (it?), in a way, so she understands better than most.

The reason for that reasoning was because there is not a whiff of anything related to Tamriel, Akavir, Atmora, Yokuda, nothing. There are no mentions of the Aedra or the Daedra, and the only deity-like existences were the Celestial Dragons.

Imposed by themselves, really, but it seemed that there were no worshippers. Many bootlickers though.

Either way, that stinks like the old Dragon Cult. Maybe in this timeline, the dragons decided to unite and… rule over the rest of the world after one too many shouting contest? That would explain the changes of the world at large.

Maybe one dragon said "Back off" to another and because of that there is water flowing upwards the Reverse Mountain. Interesting theories, but difficult to prove.

So like that passed time, her reading books and familiarizing with the world (while constantly trying to escape), and like that more strange things were made known to her.

The Devil Fruits being one that she couldn't figure out. From some explanations they almost seemed to being related to the Daedra somehow, but the common downside to all of them, the 'unable to swim' was most curious.

There was also the whole thing about a single moon. Yeah, nights were really weird at first, but it isn't something really impactful so she ended up getting used to it.

Also, the Kingdom where she was re-born into, aside from the fact that it's located on the "Paradise" side of the Grand Line (and wasn't that one big sarcastic statement right there), is that it's hella dark. Like, constant fog, dark clouds covering the sky all day long (at night some of those clear up a little so the night sky is barely visible), and with that the average temperature is lower than she would like.

Well, at least it's not like Skyrim where even summer could freeze your ass.

Speaking of that freezing hellhole of a province, there are many similarities between Skyrim and Shikkearu Kingdom.

The population is not the densest, but whoever lives there is very hardy. Then there is that 90% of the fauna and even flora tries to kill you, and then is the civil strife that is threatening to become a full-blown civil war.

She planted her face against the table. Hard – yet again.

Why it always has to be a civil war?

Being part of a Noble House automatically means that there will be martial training, even if the minimum. It certainly doesn't help that the Archduke is also the Supreme Commander of the Royal Army – meaning that combat training is not only expected from his offspring, but also that she (and her brother to a greater degree) have to excel on it.

Luckily for her new father, she has an almost limitless amount of combat experience and her brother is… quite honestly, a sword freak.

He very obviously doesn't care about anything that isn't swordsmanship, and he is a natural on it to boot.

Her own experiences with swords may be limited compared to her bow and dagger usage, but she still has enough to say that this brat is better than 99% swordsmen she had seen. Considering that swords are a quite common equipment for just about everybody – including veterans and complete novices alike – may not sound like much, but the only person she can think of that had a higher skill with the sword is a wandering Redguard she met sometimes on the road.

The Archduke was clearly very satisfied with how his eldest was progressing, and a bit less about her. Although it's better than the first time she met him (after regaining her memories/consciousness) – he had watched her like she had been a particularly annoying cockroach he couldn't get rid of.

Now, she would like to say that her superior skills on any weaponry thanks to a long time practice had made him respect her, but the truth is even if she knew what was needed to be done, her body didn't quite react in time for most of it.

Still, she had shown enough promise to not be labelled an 'embarrassment'. She has the opinion that these people had to chill out a little.

It was quite a bit of a shock that the bow was left aside in the current military doctrine. Sure, there are bows used for hunting, but that's the limit of it. After seeing the few bows out there in the manor, it was at least understandable – they all looked like would splinter in a million pieces if she were to draw them at full force (in her previous life). Honestly, is that what they call a bow? Where are the metal alloy bows? She isn't asking for much, nothing like Daedric or Ebony. But no, what they all have are bows which quality is worse than the standardized one for the legion in the 2ndcentury 4thera.

What these people have in place of bows is a hand held miniaturized black powder cannon. She wasn't impressed.

She saw a few drills being done by the guard and the weapon's performance was abysmal. Range? Crap. Accuracy? Crap. Projectile penetration? Crap. Rate of fire? Absolute crap. No wonder all soldiers also carried a sword – because they will use it.

Who thought it was a good idea in the first place? At least the boat-mounted bigger guns had a little more logic to them – a bow, however powerful (except Auri-el's bow, of course) isn't going to be a great help in naval combat, and a cannon is better than a catapult in that scenario.

So when she inquired on archery (in a rather roundabout way because she couldn't speak nor write properly yet) all thought about it as a hobby more than a proper and legitimate combat option. They still let her practice it, stating that it is a 'worthy noble activity' because obviously, noble activities are a completely useless waste of time.

Not that she's saying that archery is useless, but it is how the other people see it.

After that there was a bit of a drama on what to do with her, because her… dispositions as a very intelligent child and her 'special voice', amongst other things, made her stand out as a rarity. To put it simple, you don't want to be a rarity in a noble environment, because nobles have no shortage of freaks and weirdoes that have way too much time on their hands.

So far, the few accidents concerning her voice have caused to some to believe that either she is a messenger from a higher being or a higher being herself – some going as far as prostrating and praying right on her face. There are exactly twenty-three marriage proposals after she had her "debut" (because her new parents had been too embarrassed about her before so nobody outside the family and servants knew about her existence). And all the candidates are thirty five years old or older.

Considering that her current physical age wasn't even ten – it just made her scowl. That kind of age gap wasn't even accepted between mer until both parties were at least a century old. At least the non-noble ones.

But all that drama cleared itself up one morning.

A/N: Yeah, this thing was sitting in there on a word archive for about a week. It's actually a bit (a few thousand words) longer... sometimes. I don't quite like the few times I tried to write from this point onwards, so meh and decided to cut it there. There are a few canon changes (namely, the time of the Shikkearu Kingdom's civil war) but it's fanfiction so it's alright. Dunno if I'll continue - I certainly put a bit more effort than what is normal for a thing that I didn't take too seriously.

Also, about the eyes - it was not counting the beast races because I was not really thinking too much and completely forgot about them. I could explain it away that the body build of the beast races is so much different from the mer/men and that's why it's rare to see that characteristic on a non-beastman. But meh.