A/N: This story was written through a roleplay, so technically I only half-wrote it. I've edited it to make better sense chronologically and narratively, because there are definitely things you miss when you shoot text back and forth at each other at three in the fucking morning. Our sleeping habits are horrendous, and she's two time zones ahead of me.

To my unicorn: you're my best friend and the light of my life. I love you with all my heart. Our relationship is not like Mana and Alaya's, but I always find it interesting to butt heads through our characters, because they highlight our differences without demolishing our similarities. Seriously, the amount of legit frustration I experienced second-hand through Mana is actually pretty funny. The way we write protagonists really exposes so much about ourselves that it's uncanny. I know you understand that.

Note: this fanfic has illustrations, which can be found on AO3 or tumblr. Links on my profile page.

[ACT I - UNEASY PREMONITIONS]

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The Khajiit tried not to yawn too loudly as she made her way down from Dragonsreach. Her whole body was aching and tired, having hiked through Skyrim's mountainous landscape on foot, in heavy armor, after running from a dragon only the morning before.

Mana, knowing that she had fuck all in the way of gold, hoped they wouldn't kick her out of the park. Her travels had made it painfully aware of the racism towards her kind, and Skyrim was no diamond in the rough. It was likely the only reason she was allowed in the city in the first place was because she'd had news on Helgen.

And that dragon... she thought with a shudder, pushing it from her mind. She could dwell on it later. As she entered the small enclosed park, dominated by a dying tree, she began to wonder is maybe coming to the north had been such a good idea in the first place.

Across the park, a Breton woman sighed and lifted her head solemnly, the first sight an exhausted Khajiit garbed in heavy armor, carrying a leather traveling pack. She jumped to her feet and approached. "Oh, allow me to help you! You seem very tired; maybe we can get you a good drink and a room at the inn?" she said good-naturedly.

Mana turned her gaze on the Breton, observing her choice in weapons and armor, and tried to give a smile that didn't look like a snarl, "Khajiit appreciates your kindness, but she has no gold to pay."

"Ah, that matters not. Please, it shall be my pleasure," a warm smile crossed the Breton's face, "It is always a happy thing to aid a weary traveler."

Mana gave a low chuckle and relaxed her shoulders, "This one is a kind soul."

"So I've been told," Alaya pulled the pack from her new friend's shoulders, "They call me Alaya Dawnbreaker. I came from High Rock to become a Companion."

The pack shouldn't have been all that heavy, only carrying basic supplies that she'd gotten from Alvor the day before. "Companion...?" Mana questioned, ears pricking in curiosity.

A proud smile crossed the Breton's face, "There is a group of men and women who serve as the defenders of Skyrim's people. We have no such thing in High Rock, and I thought they might require a healer of some sort."

"Are they anything like the Fighter's Guild?" the Khajiit tilted her head to the side in question.

"I haven't the slightest of an idea. I know they are respected across Tamriel," Alaya opened the door to the inn, and allowed the Khajiit to enter first.

Mana dipped her head as she passed, taking in the smells of sweat, pine, cooking meat and booze. If there was one thing to be counted on, it was that inns were generally the same no matter where you went. In the light of the fire, she looked dirty and ruffled, her fur matted with dust in some places, and what looked like blood in others. It was also evident that she had tried to wash most of it off, but hadn't entirely succeeded. The iron armor was worn and dented in some places, not quite fitting right on her tall body.

"What would you like, Khajiit?" Alaya asked politely.

"Mana only needs somewhere to sleep."

"Well, Mana, you seem to need a bath, and a new set of armor, and possibly a healer, though I am unsure whether that blood is yours or not," there was a motherly nip to Alaya's tone as she folded her arms over her chest.

The Khajiit looked down at herself, lip twitching in amusement, "I am unsure as well. Mana has had a ... trying week."

"I have an extra set of clothing in my bag that you could wear until we get you a new set of armor or repair your current set. I may be able to ask for the innkeeper to draw you a bath, if you would like."

Mana briefly fought over being polite and declining the offer, versus accepting the kindness for what it is (she could repay the favor later, anyhow). It was incredibly rare to meet people like this, who went out of their way to be good to strangers and expecting nothing in return. "Thank you, you are too generous," she nodded, trying not to purr.

The Breton stepped up to the counter and requested two rooms and a hot bath, then rummaged around through her own packs for the twenty septim she needed to pay. To her disappointment, she would only be left but a handful of gold for other necessities if she paid for the new armor after this. Alaya reassured herself by reminding herself that she would soon be making the gold she needed.

Mana noted the look on the woman's face, "Do these Companions take jobs like the Fighters Guild?"

"They do," she said softer than intended.

"Mana could take jobs with you, so they are done quicker? There is more money to be found that way, yes?" Mana offered, "Also, Khajiit is planning to search Bleak Falls Barrow. There could be treasure."

Alaya looked torn, "I would be happy to join you, though I will not raid a barrow and disrupt the dead unless there are some in a state of undeath."

"Khajiit only needs to find a tablet," Mana nodded, knowing that both humans and elves were rather touchy when it came to their dead.

"What sort of tablet?"

"Mana is unsure, only that they call it the 'Dragonstone'."

"Sounds mysterious."

The innkeeper called that the bath was ready, and Alaya rifled through her bags again in search of the extra clothes, "Here, take these. You can keep them – they're old, and too big for me."

Mana nodded, taking them into her hands and heading after the innkeeper. Before she entered, she looked over her shoulder at the other woman, "Would you like to join Mana?"

Alaya hesitated, "I'll organize our bedrooms. Thank you for the offer, though."

Mana nodded, not offended. It was normal for Khajiit to bathe together, but she knew that others weren't quite as relaxed about it.

Alaya set the two packs in the rooms and unstrapped her armor piece by piece. She laid it all out on her bed, sighed, and settled down to relax.

Mana sunk down into the water with a noise of contentment. She rolled her shoulders and stretched out her spine, feeling the dirt and grime beginning to loosen. Snorting, she combed her fingers through her fur, grooming properly. It helped her mind settle, still reeling from her near-experience with death.

She could have sworn that the dragon's eyes were looking right at her ... they had seemed almost ... familiar.

Mouth dry, Mana finished cleaning herself off and dressed quickly.

As Mana emerged from the bathroom, Alaya made a brief noise of surprise, "Are you alright? You look ill."

"It has been a while since Mana has had the chance to groom properly," the Khajiit shrugged, "but she will be fine."

Alaya took Mana's stack of armor and her own cleaning rag and began polishing it up. "What sort of battle have you faced since entering Skyrim, Mana? There are many stains on your armor."

"Khajiit only borrowed it," she explained, "but it is true that Mana's coming to Skyrim was less than welcome. I was taken prisoner for hunting near the border when the rebels were nearby, and they would have killed Mana if not for the dragon," Her voice became amused as she talked.

Alaya looked alarmed, "Dragons? I thought they were only a legend told by Nords around the campfire to entertain their children."

Mana's expression grew grim, "No, they are very much real. And they are coming home."

An equally grim chuckle escaped the Breton's lips, "Now may not have been the best time for us to come to Skyrim."

"I suppose we shall see."

By the time they dispatched the guardian of the crypt, Mana had had enough of dead-walkers, the filthy things. Her head was pounding and ears ringing, and what was with the voices?

Alaya cast a blessing to purge the area of the remainder of malcontent energies. When she looked up, she saw a look in Mana's eyes that seemed reminiscent of a migraine. "Are you alright, Mana?" she asked, considering another Restoration spell to possibly cast, "Did that shout jostle your head a little too much?"

"I ... do not..." Mana began, but the chanting in her head only grew louder. She pressed the pads of her fingers to her brow and stepped towards the wall of the cave. It seemed to draw her in, beckoning her. Something deep inside was thrumming, urging to be acknowledged.

Alaya stepped up to her. "Here. Easy now," she helped her friend down to the floor, and removed her helm. A look of concern filled her eyes; she couldn't help if she didn't know what was going on.

Mana's whole body went rigid; the pupils of her eyes shrunk into pinpoints, fixated on the wall before her that words older than man were carved. Ringing in her head, a single word repeated, the markings in her mind's eye, and under her breath she whispered it: "Fus."

Alaya momentarily was rendered speechless, "I... Excuse me?"

Breaking out of the trance, Mana panted heavily, running her fingers through her mane. "What in the name of the moons was that?" she hissed.

"I don't have any idea, friend," she said, helping her to her feet, "You muttered a strange word..."

"It was Fus, but Mana ... doesn't quite know what it means. I heard it from the wall," she turned her gaze on Alaya, eyes wide.

Alaya slowly nodded, "It was probably nothing, friend. Try to relax, and we can return to Whiterun without much trouble. No harm, no fowl, you know?"

Mana nodded in agreement, but she still looked like it was still on her mind.

There was fire in the distance, almost too bright to Mana's eyes.

Beside her, Alaya wrung her hands, a furrow deep-set into her brow, "We ought to hurry. There are people there that may need our help."

Mana loosed her bow from its place on her back, scanning the ground surrounding the crumbling watchtower. There were bodies strewn everywhere, the smell of burning flesh overpowering, but there didn't seem to be any attackers.

Alaya knelt to help the wounded, some of whom were crying out in agony. One near to the tower gripped her feebly on the arms, and croaked, "Dragons, lass... dragons!"

Not long after, unminding of how strong her spell or potion she used, he lay dead, and she came trotting back to Mana, face set in determination, "There's dragons about – seems you were right after all."

As she spoke, a loud crowing roar echoed over the plains of Whiterun, a sound she had never heard before in her life, but unmistakably, it was a dragon.

The Khajiit stared up at the night sky as a huge winged beast swooped down over the tower, fire licking at its gums and a gleeful shine in its eyes. Mana was oddly disappointed that it was not the same black dragon as before. This one was an excited hatchling in comparison. She knocked an arrow in response to its excited roaring.

"I have your back, friend," Alaya told her, with little else she could do until the dragon landed.

"Let us hope that we do not end up as food, yes?" Mana snarled, half-joking, and took aim. The dragon let loose a burst of flame at the guards that had managed to survive. It shook its head and swung its gaze over to the two of them, the arrow loosely embedded between its scales, not deep enough to do it serious harm.

Instinctively, Alaya stepped up in front of her friend with enough space for her to still fire arrows, shield at the ready as she pulled out the Dwarven mace she had taken off the body of a bandit.

The dragon prepared to wipe them off the map, and as it opened its maw Mana shot an arrow down its throat. It roared again, taking to the sky.

"Thankful that you did that ... we both would have been burnt to a cinder," Alaya glanced over her shoulder at her friend, "Shoot for the wings. The scales look thin enough that you may tear a hole."

Mana nodded. It was difficult to aim properly when the dragon was performing high speed aerial maneuvers, but when it hovered in place, she was able to get the shot in.

When the dragon was starting to get angry, there was shouting from the east, and a group of Whiterun guards, led by who Mana recognized as the Jarl's Housecarl, joined the already chaotic battle.

A volley of arrows came from the Whiterun guard, and whistled right by the frustrated lizard, who dipped its head to better use the full strength behind its wings. A plume of flame towered into the air as it roared once more, making another pivot around the guard tower on one wing before landing on its top, holding on with clawed feet as it lit a streak of tundra grasses ablaze not far from Mana and Alaya.

Mana rushed inside, switching her bow out for sword. The dragon shifted around on top of the tower as she ran up the staircase. As she approached it the roaring became more distinct, words forming in a mixture of the common tongue and one that was less common, but just as familiar.

As she reached the top of the tower, the dragon shoved its weight off, into the sky. The guardsmen sent another volley of arrows at it, and with a spatter hot blood rained down on Mana, an arrow embedded up to the fletching sent the dragon into a blind rage. It turned on Mana, eyes closed, cursing her in the dragon language.

Mana raised her shield, baring her fangs, and lashed out. The dragon managed to clamp down heavily on her arm, even though her blade sliced through the flesh of its face. Mana's armour absorbed most of the blow, even as she let out a yowl of pain. It shoved her dangerously close to the edge of the tower.

Alaya burst onto the roof at the dragon's tail, letting out as fierce a battle cry as a small Breton woman could. She smashed her mace into its flesh, and the dragon swung its head around, aiming a bite at her.

As Alaya bounced the dragon's teeth off of her with a hearty bash of her shield, Mana rammed her sword in the fleshy part of its neck, showering the already blood-splattered roof in even more gore. With a triumphant grin, the Breton woman smashed the dragon on the head with her mace, driving the sword deeper into its neck.

The oversized lizard wheezed now, unable to roar or draw enough breath for more than a small puff of smoke. With a great heave, Mana's blade sliced through its spine, the dragon's dying breath knocking the both of them to the ground.

There was a blinding light, obscuring everything they could see. Mana's breath caught as she staggered, the light flowing into her, twisting and tumbling like water flowing down rapids with a presence just as loud. A rush of power flooded through her, and a thousand different thoughts all at once, none of her own. She saw the dawn of the world, more dragons than one would know what to do with, fire tearing through the sky as their screaming brethren fell one by one.

Among the hurricane of sensation she felt the word from the word wall rise up, focusing her thoughts and separating her mind from that of the Dov. She waited the storm out, holding the word to her heart as the other consciousness faded, leaving her filled with power, the same instinctive feeling from the Barrow now a constant presence.

In near an instant, it was all gone, and she swirled with light for a moment before it disappeared. Coming back to herself, Mana let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Her throat felt raw and the air on her tongue heavier than before, charged and volatile.

"Mana ... are you okay?" Alaya coughed, straightening up to reach her friend, "What happened there?" She glanced to the dragon, and it was no more than a long, skeletal husk on the rooftop, still slightly breathing with wind, swirling magical residue, and the dust of a magical being no more. At the back of her mind, she could recognize the flash of light and magic as a soul. A very large, presence-filled soul, and it didn't enter a soul gem, no, it entered Mana as if she were a soul gem.

"I saw..." the Khajiit began, "...Mana has no idea what she saw."

"Even so, are you alright?"

"Khajiit thinks so," Mana frowned.

Alaya looked the Khajiit over in concern, but ultimately shook her head and decided to think on what had happened later. "I can wait for you to organize your thoughts. Come, Mana, let's go back to Whiterun."

"We just killed a dragon," Mana deadpanned.

The roof of the tower became crowded as they were joined by the surviving guards, who crowded around them and the bones.

A lump rose in Alaya's throat as they stood outside the mead hall of Jorrvaskr, "I'm having second thoughts, Mana. They are all Nordic warriors, what would they want with a small Breton such as me? I really don't wish to be the laughingstock of the Companions."

"They are warriors. If you are a coward, then it is best that you do not enter," Mana said, though she was distracted. Her ears were still ringing.

Alaya bristled slightly, "I am no coward, Mana, you should know."

She pushed open the door with her friend at her heel, and was immediately overcome by a gust of hot air, smelling definitively of mixed alcohol, wood smoke, and sweat, accompanied by the sweet tang of steel. There was also a bit of a musty scent permeating the room, probably because of the pelts adorning the wall. The first sight in front of them was a brawl, every other man and woman in the general vicinity cheering and goading them on.

For a moment, Alaya considered turning back and coming another time, but she knew that may come off as cowardly.

Mana followed closely behind her, looking both out of place and right at home in the mead hall.

"We have a new face here, don't we now?" said a dark-haired young man in a form of heavy armor that Alaya did not recognize. It took longer than it should have for her to realize she was being addressed, and once she finally did, he was chuckling at her. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Lass," he addressed her through his chuckles, "come over with your friend and join me."

When Alaya hesitated, Mana nudged her forward until they were standing in front of the two men. The older of the two watched them with keen eyes and the younger with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"What is it that you need?" the younger asked.

Alaya rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "Well... I..." She cast a helpless glance at Mana, and then continued, "We had the intention of joining the Companions."

As soon as the pair was settled down in their fur beds, Alaya rolled over and faced the Khajiit, "Mana, you awake still?"

"Yes," Mana said softly. Her throat was wrecked, and she croaked a little.

"What was that man's name, the man that led us to our room?"

"Farkas."

"I think I'm in love," a giddy grin met her lips, "He's so... I don't know what the word is, really, for what I'm feeling. It's nice, though. He just seems so strong, and I don't know... gruff isn't the right word."

"Absent minded?" Mana tried to grin.

"Well, a little, but it's charming, I think."

Mana gave a snort and curled up tighter in her own cot, "Pursue him. In this line of work, you never know which day is your last."

"We're still whelps, though. I doubt he'd consider me," her face grew forlorn, "Let's not mention the fact that I'm tiny compared to him. He probably hardly noticed me, and thought he was just ushering you to the whelps' quarters."

"You are very concerned with your appearance, yes?"

"Well, not my appearance, no," she smoothed her strawberry blond hair a little. "I think I'm pretty, but I'm just very small, and I have a small presence if you aren't magically inclined."

"No, the ... 'energy' one gives off," Mana looked frustrated, "Mana is unsure how to phrase it in this tongue."

"Describe what you mean a bit more, then." Across the room, another one of the initiates hissed at them to be quiet and Alaya dropped her voice to a softer whisper, "I'm willing to try to figure out a better word if you explain a bit more."

"Your presence … personality?" Mana was even more frustrated now, "If you worry too much what he'll think you'll only be afraid. You cannot read minds, yes?"

"Oh, I think I know what you're talking about, but I don't know the word for it myself. No, I can't read minds. I'm mostly afraid he won't like me for anything but my rank in the Companions, but he seems honorable enough..." Alaya sighed.

"From what the old man said, rank doesn't matter as much as you may think," Mana mused, "A good premise. If you fight well, then that is all you need."

"Thank you for the reassurance, Mana," she smiled softly. "They're probably going to put us work tomorrow, so we ought to rest."

Mana gave a hum of reply, already drifting off.

She dreamed of fire and black wings.

[End of Act I]

A/N: Mana will switch between first and third person when speaking because she's traveled for up to ten years before coming to Skyrim, so she can get by in conversations in a number of different languages. So while she does have difficulty with tenses and pronouns like many Khajiits, she's slightly more practiced. *thumbs up*