Antoinetta is the love of my life. No doubt about that. Five years after Alduin was brought to his extremely overdue death, we still fall asleep in each others arms. I'll still walk out onto our porch and see her beautiful honey-colored hair shimmer in the sun that fought through the clouds above our home in Hjaalmarch. She'll turn at the sound of my footsteps and address me as Marc with her brilliant smile. Once I get close I'll plant a kiss upon her blushing cheeks and rest my hands on her small waist where they fit so perfectly. How I love her small Breton body. One of my fondest memories of us together was a stormy night when we first moved into Honeyside, way back in 4E 201. Due to the shoddy conditions our poor little home was being sacked by the harsh winds and heavy rain. Annie pressed right up against me and curled up like an alarmed small creature. Together we fit perfectly, like a lock in a key. With every breath, I felt each valley and swell of her body press against my bare skin.

Antoinetta has the largest heart. Half of her nightmares are about the Falmer. To me, I fear Falmer. Their denatured stature, sightless eyes, sharp teeth, and bloodthirsty dispositions send me reeling. Annie, on the other hand, pities the Falmer. "They were betrayed, Marcurio!" She will cry out, "Promised a shelter, safety from the Nords, and turned into slaves." My thumb would find its way across her cheek to catch her tears. "They were brilliant Marc. Brilliant." Holding her face and looking into her golden eyes that used to hold such fire.

That's what breaks my heart the most. Her beautiful brown eyes that shimmered and gleamed. They matched her hair perfectly. I loved her wholly. My hands could get lost in her soft hair that rested at her shoulder bones. How she tempted me with her softness, her sweet scent and glistening eyes that seemed to flow with molten gold. They sparkled and intensified when the adrenaline ran through her body.

But now they sit dull. A medium brown, the color of clay, seems totally flat and lacking in life compared to her old self with the bubbling gold. They stare blankly into her own beyond and never seem to connect with mine. And that's what I miss the most.

I lost my Annie.

The subtle murmur of voices had picked up in the Bee and Barb as more hard workers from Riften turned in for a sweet drink after a long day of labor. I leaned casually against the wooden wall and let out a sigh. The cold, half-empty bottle of mead in my hand had started to perspire and make my hands wet. I had been sitting here a while, waiting for anything with a heartbeat to hire me. My coin purse was lighter than I'd like and Keevara was getting more strict with my board payments. I placed the mead bottle on the bench next to another empty bottle I finished off a while ago and stood up as a wave of dizziness poured over me. I stumbled forward and bumped into a small creature, a Breton lady with a hunting bow strapped across her body.

"Excuse me." I spoke, sounding like I was asking a question.

This is when I realized I had two sides of me, Marcurio, and Drunken Marcurio. Drunken Marcurio was stupid, bashful, overly-confident, and a complete ass.

She stared at me with squinted golden eyes. "You're excused." She spoke, her voice like chimes. Drunken Marcurio quickly reached out and grabbed her bony shoulder, exposed due to the scaled armor she sported. Her skin was exceptionally cold and seemed somewhat dry.

"Listen here," I burped, "You see a stunning Imperial like myself in your way, you move." Her small hand brushed mine off of her shoulder and she stepped back. Intensity burned in her eyes and she reeled her fist back. Blackness over came me as her fist collided with my temple.

•••

When I wake, the same old ceiling stares back at me on the second floor of the Bee and Barb. My head is reeling with a hangover. As I try to get up, the room spins and my mind reels. Memories fog my mind as I try to recall facts from the night before. A pretty Breton girl, with short blonde hair, fiery golden eyes, and a strong fist. Huh. Soft footfalls echo in the hallway my room is adjoined to. Peeking out of my bedroom door, I see her. Blue robes hang awkwardly on her body, barely brushing the tips of her bare toes. No shoes. Odd. She descends down the stairs and into the tavern.

Quickly I spring from my room and tip-toe into hers. She's incredibly messy, her armor laid all upon the floor in a heap, notes and coins littering the nightstand. How long has she been here? Something about a few of her notes caught my eyes. They weren't scribbled like the others, but printed, like a book. I picked them up and read the pages. Together, they read:

"Lastly, we come to the question of the true meaning of being Dragonborn. The connection with dragons is so obvious that it has almost been forgotten - in these days when dragons are a distant memory, we forget that in the early days being Dragonborn meant having "the dragon blood". Some scholars believe that was meant quite literally, although the exact significance is not known. The Nords tell tales of Dragonborn heroes who were great dragonslayers, able to steal the power of the dragons they killed. Indeed, it is well known that the Akaviri sought out and killed many dragons during their invasion, and there is some evidence that this continued after they became Reman Cyrodiil's Dragonguard (again, the connection to dragons) - the direct predecessor to the Blades of today"

Obviously from the Book of the Dragonborn. I was quite well-read, if I do say so myself. But why was this simple traveler carrying such text? I turned to leave, but a small luring figure was blocking the doorway. My breath caught in my throat.

"What are you doing in here?!" She shouted, taking another step inward. I took by bearings and stepped back. My mouth opened and closed, struggling to find words. Whatwas I doing in here? Snooping? I'm such an ass. Something bright caught my eye. In the palm of her hand flickered a soft flame.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." I put my hands out protectively. "No need to get violent." Her lip curled and the flame grew. Suddenly interested, "Is that a Fireball, or plain old Flames?" She stood up a little straighter and her flame shrunk.

"It's, it's just Flames." She said quietly. "I haven't really gotten a good grip on Fireball."

I sprung at my opportunity. "If I can help you master Fireball," she raised her eyebrow at this, "and, and! and Ice Spike, can we just forget about this and last night?" She tilted her head slightly and considered my offer.

"I had already forgotten about last night," she said as she stepped forward and snatched the papers out of my hand, "but, deal."

I smiled and sighed a sigh of relief. I held out my hand, "Marcurio."

She took mine in her small hand. "Antoinetta."

•••

We headed out north of Riften, into the forest in search of Frostbite Spiders to practice on. It was a really unusually cold day in the Rift and snow was falling. The cool brisk winds of the Rift were flying by, sending vigorous shivers down Antoinetta's back. I may not be a Nord, but at least I was slightly tolerant of the cold. Antoinetta, on the other hand, was sent into shivers by the smallest of breezes. She produced a flame in her hands that rose to in front of her face. She closed her eyes blissfully as the flame warmed her skin. I noticed her lips were a light shade of blue. Poor soul.

"Hey," I said quietly, and her eyes flew open. "Don't waste your magicka." The flame diminished to nothing and a quiver shook her body. I paced towards a tree, turned away from her, and began to create a Fireball. "Alright, pay attention. Using Fireball is just like Flames except you have to learn how to condense and hold on to it until you are ready to let it go in a, well, ball of fire." I sent a burning ball of flames towards a tree. When it hit the bark it exploded and the whole tree caught aflame. Quickly using an icy tome I extinguished the fire before it could spread. "See?" I turned to Antoinetta, only to see her sitting on the ground, her body curled around her hands that were holding a flickering flame. "Mara, give me strength." I mumbled.

I paced over to where she sat and scooped her up into my arms. Suprisingly, she did not fight me. Instead she curled up against me and I held her small body as she convulsed due to the cold. Suddenly I pitied the girl, and held her closer as I carried her to the gate of Riften. A guard quickly opened it for me and spoke quietly, "Take care of her, she's the Dragonborn."

I stopped in my tracks and turned to him. "What?"

"She's the Dragonborn. She traveled her yesterday from Whiterun. A Whiterun guard followed her all the way here, just to make sure she was okay, and he let us know." I stood silently as the guard looked closer at Antoinetta. "Warm her up. Don't want her getting sick, now do we?"

No, we don't. Wouldn't want to be responsible for the death of the Dragonborn. I didn't reply to the guard as I hastily made my way to the Bee and Barb and laid her down in her bed upstairs. Looking upon the Dragonborn, I suddenly realized I shouldn't have much to do with her. I don't want her blood on my hands, or her trust. Quietly I creeped out of her room as her eyes fluttered shut.

I would be leaving for Windhelm immediately.