This tiny Alternate Universe one-shot is done in pure jest and satire with the permission and blessing of both KiraMackey and timeywimeyspaceywacey. It is completely unrelated to the storylines of any stories involving the Dragonborns within. Enjoy!
Dragon Heaven
"Hey, look guys," the fiery redheaded man turned to see the incoming soul, "fresh meat."
The mist dissipated, revealing a tiny figure. It stepped closer to the awaiting crowd. The four onlookers began to laugh.
The tiny figure squinted her eyes and scrunched her freckled nose at the giant redhead. "What did you just say?" she asked, her fists firmly planted on her hips.
The redhead laughed. "Nothin', sweetheart. Just came to see who the newcomer was." The man stuck out his hand to the petite, tanned woman with the freckled face. "I'm Brandr," he announced with a smile and flashing emerald eyes as their forearms clasped. He couldn't help but take in the seemingly young woman's snow-white locks. He indicated behind him, and added, "That's Fjornir," he pointed to a mountain of a man with dark brown-red hair, green-grey eyes and an impressive beard; "Deborah," he indicated a tall woman with blue-grey eyes and brown hair in a pony-tail; "and Aldric," he smiled at a thickly-built man, a shade shorter than Fjornir, with thick blond locks and icy blue eyes. With nothing short of what could be called a caress to the small woman's forearm, Brandr asked, "What's your name?"
The petite woman gave the redhead the stinkeye, but eventually offered her name. "Indis… Indis Mero."
"An Imperial!" Brandr laughed. "Well, hey, no judgment. Deborah here isn't even from Nirn."
The tall woman behind Brandr sighed and rolled her eyes, but said nothing.
Indis scanned the small crowd and then the room around them. They were in a large hall lit with blazing braziers and lined with banquet table after banquet table. "Where… am I?" she asked.
The fiery redhead stepped closer to the woman, sliding his hand further up her arm and eventually grasping her bicep, and then said, "Indis Mero, welcome to Dovahziipraan."
Indis blinked, a blank expression sweeping over her face. "What?"
"Dovahziipraan," Fjornir repeated, stepping up to the side of Brandr. "It's Dovahzul. Means 'dragon spirit rest'."
Indis blinked again, staring at the four people standing before her, finally wriggling out of Brandr's grasp. "Am I dead?" she asked.
"Yep," Aldric answered, arms crossed over his bare chest. "This is basically Sovngarde. For Dragonborns… and dragons."
"Dragons!?" Indis asked.
"Yes," Fjornir answered. "Anything with a dragon soul gets sent here."
"But…," Indis stared at the group. "I'm supposed to be in Misty Grove, with Sanguine…."
"The Daedra?" Deborah asked. "What do you mean 'supposed to'?"
Indis shifted uneasily and spoke in a quiet voice. "He won my soul in a drinking contest…."
The other Dragonborns stared a moment at the tiny Imperial, but soon shared a hearty laugh.
"Guess Akatosh beat him in some other kind of battle, then," Brandr said with a wink, placing a hand at the small of Indis's back. "Come, join us. The food and wine and mead and ale and honey-water are in unending supply here. As is everything else, of course…." Brandr grinned.
As Indis walked toward a banquet table, she saw a hulking green figure in a dark corner of the hall. "Who's that?" she asked the group.
"Oh, that's Torug," Aldric said, shooting a tentative glance at Deborah. "We don't really… get along…."
Indis grabbed a pitcher and poured herself a goblet of purple-red, silky wine. When she placed the pitcher back onto the table, it refilled itself immediately, and quickly. She chugged the fermented jazbay juice like it was water.
"That's what I'm talkin' about," Brandr muttered under his breath, grinning ear to ear.
Indis lowered the goblet from her lips and took several gasping breaths. "What if I don't want to be here? What if I want to be in Oblivion... or Sovngarde?"
"Why would you want to?" Fjornir asked her.
Indis frowned and her brow furrowed. "I… I don't remember." She had a vague memory of a man, a Dunmer she loved, and children they had. The memory was at the tip of her brain, so to speak, but was fading quickly, erasing the features of the Dunmer and the children until they were nothing but shades. Soon, the memory was altogether gone, and she longed for nothing and no one. She looked to her left at the attractive, buff redhead and grinned. "So," she said, swinging her hips to and fro as she sauntered up to Brandr, "how many dragons have you killed?"
Brandr's eyes glinted as he grinned down at the tiny bird of a woman. He took a moment to answer. "Bunches."
Fjornir, Deborah and Aldric groaned, and walked away to sit down for a feast of never-diminishing roasted goat.
"That man hits on every soul that comes to this hall," Deborah said, eyeing her two male companions knowingly. "Well, everyone except for the orc."
"Don't remind me," Fjornir muttered. "Maybe he'll quit it, now that this Indis girl came along. They seem… similar."
Deborah chuckled and washed down goat, potatoes and carrots with delicious wine. "Maybe Brandr will stop asking Aldric and I if he can join us…."
Aldric squirmed on the stone bench. "I hope so." Aldric had nothing against men loving other men, or multiple people loving each other, but preferred to avoid Brandr most of the time. He was simply too… ardent.
Fjornir chugged a cup of mead, and poured himself some more. Just then, a sleek, dark-haired woman plopped down next to him on the stone bench. "I finally found you," the woman said in a sultry voice. Her dark eyes briefly flashed gold before she leaned in to kiss Fjornir. "A new Dragonborn, hmm?" she asked.
"Indis Mero. Imperial," Aldric answered.
"Hmph. Wonder when more of my brothers and sisters will arrive." The woman shrugged, her dark curls shuffling off her shoulder. She reached for the remaining leg of the roasted goat, ripped it off of the animal's carcass, and took a bite.
"Less now, probably," Deborah mused, "with one less Dragonborn in existence."
Fjornir wrapped his arm around the dark woman's waist, nibbled on her earlobe, and whispered something that made her grin. The woman dropped the half-eaten leg of goat onto the banquet table and bolted up from the stone bench. She leaned down, grabbed Fjornir's hand, and led him away towards another room.
"Have fun, you crazy kids!" Brandr shouted after them, briefly interrupting his conversation with Indis.
Deborah chuckled and brushed her upper arm against Aldric's. "Wonder why Fjornir likes Kruziikrel so much. I mean, the human form she took is attractive but… she's a dragon."
Aldric chewed his goat and washed it down with wine. He cleared his throat, and grinned. "He likes the rel part."
Deborah bit her lip and considered the explanation. "I don't know what that means."
Aldric leaned into the woman, and with his lips brushing against her ear, he whispered. "Let me show you." Aldric grasped Deborah's hand and the two scampered out of the banquet hall.
Brandr chuckled as he watched the two leave.
"What's so funny?" Indis asked the very interesting, and very attractive redhead.
The redhead turned to Indis and smiled. "Dovve los unstiid bahlokus…."
Indis chuckled at Brandr's remark. "Yes, we certainly are always… hungry…."
Torug glared at the new pairing as they shared their first embrace. Thankfully, a Dunmer Dragonborn, his current comfort, found him and wrapped her arms around the behemoth. "What's wrong, my strongman?"
Torug covered her arms with his own, sealing her embrace. "Nothing, now." The orc relaxed, and breathed in the scent of meat, wine, and woman.