CHAPTER ONE:

QUEEN OF HAMMERS AND NAILS

She felt her breathing grow heavy with exhaustion. She felt the cool sweat drip from her nose and heard the lush grass twitch from the disturbance the salty drop caused. Forcing herself to look up at the display of bright lights flashing and twisting as her greatest kill writhed about in the air. She did it. She had slain the mighty dragon, Alduin, as prophecy predicted. She had saved Skyrim and other parts from his wicked reign, but to her it seemed too surreal.

Then the air went still. The light faded out from existence where Alduin was defeated. She glanced around finding the three, long dead, warriors who aided her, cheering. The two siblings bear-hugged each other while the older wizard fell to his knees and sent heart-felt praises to the sky above. It warmed her heart to see them so happy. They watched the creature that killed them, and many others, die at their feet. She would be elated as well if she were in their shoes.

Turning towards the bone bridge, she made her way to Tusn, who kept the bridge. With a slight laugh, he clapped her on the back, "Well, look at you! Killer of the wicked dragon, Alduin," He sighed, "Who would have thought that this day would actually come to pass?"

The imperial woman smiled, "I sure as hell didn't."

The two roared with laughter, but her face quickly clouded with concern, "But, did I kill him? I didn't absorb his soul."

"He may be dead, he may not be. He may come back at the End of the world to be our undoing. Who knows? We won't know right now, but the future will be what it's supposed to be. So rather then worry over things that haven't happened yet, focus on the present. You only get it for a short time before that thought was in the past and you inhale a piece of the future." He lectured to her.

Her eyes widened and she paused before letting her lips curl into a smile, "I guess you're right," she wrapped her arms around the god, who tensed with surprise, but relaxed and patted her back as if she were a child, "Thank you, Tusn."

They released from their embrace, Tusn grinned back, "No, thank you, Dragonborn. We will always have a place for you in Sovngarde," His kind smile switched to a daring smirk, "But the next time I see you, I won't let you win so easily in a brawl."

She chuckled, "I'm looking forward to it, Tusn." There was a moment of silence before she spoke again, "Rowina. My name is Rowina."

A look of sudden surprise etched the man's face before it quickly went soft, "Rowina, the people of Sovngarde will sing your name for centuries to come," the remark caused Rowina's fair skinned cheeks to grow pink, "Rowina, the Dragon Queen, the Dragon Killer, the-"

"Okay, okay, okay! I get it!" She silenced him before he could continue listing titles.

Tusn looked at her hot pink face and was nearly in a fit of laughter, " I see, I see, I'll lay off," his face went soft again, "Are you ready to get back to the land of the living?"

She sighed and looked down at the ring she was wearing. As if it were singing her praises of encouragement she looked at the tall man in front of her and nodded.

The last thing she saw before her sight was blinded by a warm light was his smiling face mouthing his thanks again.

'He could have at least teleported me back to my home in Whiterun.' Rowina thought as she stomped on the muddy pathway, 'But no, take me about a day north of the damned town instead.'

She could almost swear she could hear the god of judgment laughing in her ear. The landing was all good and fine but just a horrid location, and to make it even better, it had just rained and the path was squishing under her feet.

She couldn't help but sigh, "Well, at least the rain already passed."

As if the gods, or Tusn, heard her, she heard a clap of thunder. Looking up, a rain droplet crashed onto her forehead followed by several others, 'Great.'

The petite sized woman continued her grueling walk through the cold rain for hours before the storm had finally passed. The sun began to shine as the gray clouds dissipated. The sun was warm but it only lasted another hour before the stars and moons began to push it behind the mountains. The air grew chilly again and the shaking woman decided to make camp and a fire before the cold got her first, she wasn't ready for Sovngarde yet.

After another half hour went by, she had put up her small, patchwork tent near a little fire she had quickly made. Armor was stripped off and replaced with two layers of warm clothing along with a thick bear hide blanket. She sat close to the fire as she tended to roast a hare she found for her supper.

"D-Damned Nords," she shuttered, "How the hell do they survive this cold?"

Being an Imperial, she stood little chance at getting used to Skyrim's year-round winter. Even though she moved here when she was younger, she had always hated the bitter cold.

The hare was nice and tinder by the time she pulled it off the fire. When she ate to her fill she unpinned her long, raven-colored hair, let it fall to her sides, and braided it. Her hair felt rather greasy and she missed her nice bathtub. She missed the soft cushion of her warm bed at home when she laid her achy body on the hard hay cot beneath her. The only little piece of comfort she had with her was the small, gold ring that resided on her slender finger. It gently illuminated a soft blue hue as she pulled her hand to her chest and she slowly lulled off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

"Poor, foolish, Cicero! Foolish, foolish, foolish! How is poor Cicero going to get mother home now?"

A man's loud and distressed voice crept into Rowina's ears as it pulled away her grasp of deep slumber. She fluttered her eyes open and sat up groggily. Hearing another shrill cry, she pounced up from her cot, 'Is some one hurt? Or being attacked?'

She quickly tried to put on her armor, but realized she had on two rather thick pairs of clothing from the cold night. Panicked now, she hurriedly stripped and donned on her dragon scale armor, grabbed her Dawnbreaker blade and dashed her way towards the noise only to find that the noise maker, was a jester. Her steps stopped, 'A jester?' she thought, 'In Skyrim?'

Rowina continued towards the man, but her walk a bit gentler. The man heard the woman approach behind him and looked over his shoulder. His worry-stricken face suddenly beamed with hope and he turned to face her.

"Is everything alri-?" Rowina began to speak but was quickly overlapped with a squeal of delight from the jester.

The jester grabbed her shoulders, in which surprised the petite woman, "Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes! I'm saved! Poor Cicero is saved!"

'Cicero' began to dance around her with joy. Rowina wasn't sure what to do, 'Did I just-? Is he a madman?' she thought as he continued to frolic and spin around her.

She had to calm him down; "Uh- um- Cicero is it?" she started while she herself had to keep her body on a swivel just to look at him, "Wh- What seems to be your problem?"

He stopped his dance and looked at her with amber, pitiful eyes, "Cicero's cart broke down and he needs to get his mother to her new home quick!" She looked over his shoulder to look at the cart to try to see if there was an older woman, but she saw nothing but a large crate sitting on the cart. She looked back at the man with a look of confusion. Cicero seemed to have sensed that, "Mother's old crypt was recently demolished and Cicero must hurry and take her to her new one," She then realized that the crate was probably his mother's coffin, "But Cicero is stuck! Stuck! This gods damned wagon wheel merely snapped off of the wagon! Cicero has no tools! He doesn't! The mean farmer, Loreius won't help dear Cicero! He has tools, but won't come down!"

'Refuses to help?' she thought, 'I've known the couple for the two years she had been in Skyrim and they are always so kind, but why not Cicero? Perhaps he is a bit eccentric for them.'

While she paused to sort her thoughts, she found the flamboyant jester kicking the wagon while tossing curses at it. Even though it shouldn't of, Rowina felt a laugh crawling up her throat, threatening to escape her mouth. It did.

Her attempt to not laugh made the escaped laugh even louder. Cicero stopped his rant against the wooden wagon and looked at the woman with concern, "Um? Is sweet lady alright? Did Cicero do something funny?"

Rowina couldn't help but laugh harder and fell to the ground with tears streaking down her face. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed like this. Finally, her laughter died down. She wiped the tears from her face and opened her eyes, but when she did, she found Cicero's worried face inches away from her own with his red hair sweeping across her cheek. Letting out a yelp of surprise, she raised her head to get up. Except the two imperials clashed foreheads and howled in pain.

"Ah! Sorry! Sorry! Cicero is sorry!"

"No! I'm sorry!"

The two ended up sitting cross-legged next to each other, both rubbing their point of impact. Cicero was the first to seemingly recover, "Oh! Oh my! Cicero apologizes! He didn't mean to frighten the kind woman or hurt her! Oh... Cicero is so sorry." His voice went shrill with the last sentence.

She meekly chuckled, "No, no. The fault is my own."

While she continued to rub her head, she noticed a black glove bearing looped, gold embellishments reach out in front of her. Looking up, she found the gloved hand belonged to Cicero, 'When did he move?'

Rowina hesitated, but accepted the outstretched hand, "Thank you."

She hoisted herself to her feet and thanked him again, but she noticed a wisp of her own dark hair fluttering across her face, "Huh? I thought that I was wearing a helmet?"

The red and black jester pointed to the scale helmet lying on the ground near where she collapsed in a laughing fit, "Lovely lady's helm slid off her head when she was laughing for an unknown reason on the road."

"Oh…" She picked up the helmet with a slightly pinked face and placed it back in her head.

There was little pause before she sighed, "So, would you like for me to try to get him to help you?"

The wild jester grinned from ear to ear, "You would do that for sweet Cicero? Oh, yes, and Cicero will have shiny, clinky coin for you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He squeezed the tiny woman into a quick, grateful hug.

When he let her go, she patted his shoulder, "Okay then, I'll be back."

"And Cicero will be right here, waiting patiently!"

Rowina turned her back to the bizarre man and started her way up the hill to the farm. She heard Cicero's humming and singing fade when she approached the weather-beaten door. She rapped the door and waited for an answer, but there was none, 'Huh? Did they not hear me?' Raising her hand up, she knocked on the door slightly harder.

The door swung open to an older looking man wearing an annoyed and slightly angry face, "For the love of Talos, would you leave us alo-!" The man's eyes went wide and his hardened face grew soft when he noticed Rowina, "Oh! Rowina! My, how have you been?"

She smiled, "Well, I will admit, I've been better. How about you? How is your wife and the farm?"

"I myself have been a bit worn down from all the extra farmin' I've had to do. Nasty cold weather makes it harder to grow some good crops. As for my wife, she is still her good self."

They continued their brief chatter before Rowina remembered what she really came for, "Oh, I was wondering if I could have some help? A man's cart broke down and he's stranded. Do you mind lending a hand?"

Loreius' face went dark, "You mean that Cicero guy?"

"Yes, I believe he has come up before, but-"

"No," He shook his head, "I don't like him. He reeks of blood, fresh blood, and that crate he claims to hold his mother is all too suspicious. Hell, he could be smuggling skooma and moon sugar for all I know."

Rowina looked down at her feet. She realized that she didn't even think about studying the situation. An imperial jester crossing the border into Skyrim just to find another crypt for his dead mother did seem a bit suspicious and unusual. No matter how many times she phrased it she couldn't make sense of the situation, but his matters were not her own nor her business. She stood her ground on helping the imperial man and couldn't place him as a dealer or smuggler no less. He was just way too rambunctious.

The woman looked up at the older nord man with pleading eyes, "Can't you find the goodness in your heart to help a stranger in need? He may be a bit different and strange, but he is stranded and needs assistance." She hated to be manipulative, but it was a required weapon that needed to be used in many scenarios.

With a hand combing through his fine, salt and pepper hair, Loreius sighed, "I'm afraid I just can't do it, but I can give you the necessities for the job. I've seen you work with a hammer and nails and I know you have enough skill for the job. I apologize, but I can't be the one to do it."

She knew that that was all that she was going to get from the slightly paranoid farmer, "That would be just fine, Loreius. Thank you."

After a few minutes, Loreius had packed a medium sized, worn, leather pouch with the utilities Rowina needed. The nord sighed, "Here's the stuff you'll need. When you're done you can just leave it on the tree stump below," He handed the pouch to the woman, "But heed my warning, I don't trust that Cicero. Not one bit. Be careful of him."

"Don't worry about me, I'll be just fine." She smiled to reassure Loreius, whose face still bore a look of worry, "I'll just fix it up and send him on his way so he won't be a bother to you anymore."

Before the man could attempt to convince her more, she thanked him again and left the residence and made her way to the broken wagon where she found Cicero pacing around the cart mumbling to himself.

"He he he he…. Crazy? Cicero? Ehe he he he…. That's… madness…"

His sharp laughter did bring a chill down Rowina's spine, but none-the-less called out to him, "I'm back."

Cicero was pulled out from his revere and his solemn face lit up when he saw the fair-skinned woman approach, "Oh! Sweet, fair maiden has returned! Cicero was worried that you abandoned him you were gone so long!" In reality, she was only gone for about fifteen minutes. He stopped his skipping towards Rowina and looked around, "Cicero sees kind lady, but not mean Loreius. Did he refuse nice woman too?"

She shook her head, "Kinda, but he did let me borrow his tools for me to fix instead."

"What?!" He screeched and his hands grabbed his jester hat, "He won't come down, but makes poor, fragile lady do it? Rude, rude, rude, rude!"

Rowina's eye twitched with slight offence, "Listen, Loreius is a very kind man who is just a little paranoid, and I am not fragile. I can take care of this just fine by myself."

The man's reddened face twisted into one of surprise then to apologetic, "Oh, Cicero is sorry. He didn't mean to offend sweet maiden."

Either the jester had a way to play with honeyed words or Rowina was just way too soft-hearted. Whatever it was, it relaxed her tensed body, "You are forgiven. Don't beat yourself up." She walked up to him and patted his shoulder in reassurance which seemed to cheer him up. Ready to get started, she turned, slid of her helmet and placed it on the tree stump, grabbing the wood axe near it, "Alright, let's get started."

Cicero stared at her with confusion as she started walking another direction towards a small fallen tree, "Eh, what is fra-… not-so-fragile lady doing with that?"

"Don't you worry about it," She continued, "I'll get your cart fixed up as soon as possible so you and your mother can get home safely."

Before he could speak again, Rowina threw down the axe on the tree and smoothly cut it in half and tossed the axe aside. In the corner of her eye she saw the man stiffen, but it was curiosity, not fear, that dominated his amber eyes. Ignoring him, she hoisted the lower half on her shoulder and walked toward the wagon.

She went between the cart horse and the wagon and lifted up the cart with ease, placed the log close to the spot of the broken wheel, and let the wagon rest on it. Before she went too deep in repair, she slipped of her ring and placed it on the cart, "It would be hard to keep this up and fix a broken wheel at the same time, wouldn't it?"

The jester went quiet and sat down silently in the dirt. He was closely observing her actions. Rowina merely figured he was studying what she was doing so if he had trouble again he could fix it himself, but that was not what he was doing. He was studying her for another, dark reason.

After an hour of labor, the exhausted woman finally stood up and wiped the sweat collected on her dark-colored brow, "Well, that should do it for you. This should keep sturdy for the travels to come."

The jester bounded up from his sitting position and began a joyful jig, "Oh, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful! Cicero thanks you! Humble Cicero will never forget you kind stranger! Never!" He skipped his way towards Rowina and grabbed her hand and shook it, "What is sweet maidens name so Cicero may remember you and your kindness?"

"Row-" She bit down on her tongue, she should keep it safe and go under another name. Just for safety she thought. Though, she doubted she'd ever see the man again, "Red. Call me Red."

Cicero clapped his hands, "Red, Red! Sweet Red! Red like the color of snowberries, laughter," He paused, his face going dark with sudden craze, and with a deep voice continued, "And the blood of fallen enemies." Before she could comprehend his last phrase, he brightened and grinned, "A perfect name for you, dear!"

She swallowed, 'Maybe should have thought that out more…' she thought with quick regret of her choice.

"And here is your well-deserved payment from sweet Cicero." He handed the somewhat nervous imperial a rather large coin pouch. Possibly containing around three hundred septims!

Rowina gently pushed his hand holding the patched bag back to him, "My treat, it's my job to lend a helping hand and expect nothing in return." She smiled kindly, "Besides, you have already paid me back in full for your happiness of the finished product."

Much to her surprise, his eyes sprung with tears, "Oh! Cicero is so thankful! Thankful!" He pulled her into another strong embrace. His pure joy nearly brought tears to her sapphire eyes. She hugged him back and they clung for a few seconds before they released.

To distract herself from her oncoming tears, she stated, "Well, you should probably be going. You don't want to keep your mother waiting any longer."

"Oh! Oh yes! Cicero must get mother to her new home!" He began to run up to his wagon, but stopped short and looked over his shoulder, "Will Red be okay? Does kind Red need a ride home?"

She shook her head, "Thank you for your concern, but I'll be fine. Besides, you're going the opposite direction then I."

The half-mad jester paused then nodded, "Cicero understands."

Then he climbed into the head seat of the cart and grabbed the horses' reins.

"Oh, Cicero!" He looked down at the approaching woman, "If you ever need anything or are passing through Whiterun and need a place to stay. Ask for Breezehome. It's the small house close to the blacksmith when you first enter the city." She didn't say to ask for Rowina so he wouldn't get suspicious or she caught in a lie.

Cicero smiled wide, "Of course! Dear Cicero will be sure to visit when he can!"

That wasn't what she meant.

"S-ure. Uh, anytime!" She faked a smile with hope that he would forget about her and her location.

He waved, clicked the reins against the horse and she watched him disappear over the horizon before she grabbed and put her helmet on.

"Thank you, my child…"

"What the fu- What was that?" She looked around searching for the owner of the older woman's voice, but found no one, "Hmph. Probably my imagination…"

Looking up at the sky, she estimated that it was about midday and she groaned, she spent her morning helping Cicero which meant she was going to get home at dark. Lydia, her housecarl, was probably worried sick. Rowina knew she was going to get a verbal beating tonight.

Shaking her head, she walked back to her camp to gather her things and was surprised to find it intact despite all the bandits and wild animals around. She shrugged it off as pure luck and started her packing.

Rowina threw herself down on her bed and sighed with bliss. She had finally made it to her home. She curled up under her warm fur blankets and nuzzled her head into her pair of fluffy pillows. She was right about the lecture she was going to get, but she didn't expect Lydia to break down in tears, hug her, lecture her some more, apologize, cry and hug again, and said her goodnights and went to bed. Must be her time of the month.

Out of instinct and habit, she looked at her hand to gain the comfort of her ring on her finger, but something wasn't right. The woman sat straight up in her bed. The feeling of devastation crawled all over her.

Her ring was gone.