A/N: Here is the first chapter of the re-write of DragonFriend. Sorry you're not getting new content, but I felt this needed to be done. Things are changing, characters will be different (and yet the same, I hope) and overall I hope this story has more of an effect than the other one. As always, enjoy, my lovelies.
The day was cheerfully bright, as if the sun itself was trying to shine a light on my dark mood. As I stepped out of Dragonsreach and into the sunlight, I brought a hand up to shield my eyes. My talk with Jarl Balgruuf had not gone as I had originally intended. Being the Dragonborn, I was more than accustomed to getting my way. I had become rather spoiled, and was not used to having to convince someone that what I wanted was what they should do.
Time, it would seem, was on my side. Just this once. Balgruuf thought I was mad when I told him to reconstruct the trap that had captured Numinex and kept him enslaved until his death. I had seen the look in his eye, had heard his disapproval. I had threatened him with time, and the fact that it was running out.
Every day Alduin spent in Sovngarde his strength grew. Balgruff had balked, but my insistence and the threat of the end of all things had cowed him into submission. He had agreed to rebuild the trap so I could catch Odahviing, but it had taken time to convince him. Time that I could not get back. He had promised the contraption would take first priority, but I had never trusted the man much. He had given me a housecarl, and in my haste and inexperience, she had died. Because of me. I could feel the disapproval in his gaze.
I stepped further out into the sunlight, cursing the lack of clouds, and made my way down the steps and toward the Bannered Mare for a well-deserved drink. The flowers were blooming and the air smelled fresh and clean. Spring had arrived, and with it the promise of new life. All I had to do was journey through a mythical portal and defeat the World-Eater to ensure that things would continue as they had for eons.
The people of Whiterun avoided my path, through either fear or respect. After defeating the dragon at the Western Watchtower and absorbing its soul, a feat some of the guards had witnessed firsthand, the citizens had treated me differently. It was unsettling at first, the respect I garnered as Dragonborn and the subsequent fear that accompanied it. Over time, as my reputation grew, it became something I expected. I was destined to save every life in all of Nirn. Very few people could boast the same.
I had lived outside the walls of Whiterun with my family until my parents had passed. After that, my brothers and sisters had scattered to the four corners of Skyrim, and some had ventured even further. Upon becoming Thane, I had been given the right to buy Breezehome. It was quaint and charming, and served as my home base. I owned properties in other cities, but Whiterun had always been my home, and I was loathe to turn my back on it for too long.
I strode through the streets of the city feeling a mixture of both pride and grief. Pride in the city that had helped raise me, and grief that if I did not succeed, it would be wiped away and lost forever. The burden of my destiny weighed heavily upon my mind. At times, it seemed that the best thing would be to perish in a battle against some other foe, rather than face what I had been born for. My soul rebelled against the thought, as did my pride. I could not allow myself to fall before I reached Sovngarde.
As I entered the Bannered Mare, the innkeep caught my eye and motioned me over. I had known Hulda since I was knee high to a grasshopper, and our history together was something I cherished. She had always been kind to my parents and bought some of our crops to use at the inn. After they died, she had offered me a job cleaning the place, which I had accepted gratefully. My eldest brother had inherited the farm, and with his growing family there was no room for the youngest girl child to stay. Hulda had offered me a place to sleep and food to eat in return for work done around the inn, and in my eyes I would be forever in her debt.
When I saw the troubled look on her face, I made my way to the counter and leaned close so we could speak. Her eyes kept darting to the darkest corner of the inn's taproom, to a customer sitting alone in the shadows.
"What is it, Hulda?" She fixed me with a worried glance, all the while scrubbing the counter with a damp rag. I could tell she was nervous, but the reason why evaded me. Whiterun was the center of trade in Skyrim, and saw more than its fair share of shady strangers. Why should one more make a difference?
"The man in the corner, the dark one, he strikes me as an odd one. He's been sitting there for hours. Hasn't ordered anything, he's just been sitting there. Makes me nervous, it does." She glanced his way again and quickly averted her eyes when she saw the man was watching our exchange.
"Have you thought that maybe he's just waiting for someone?" I asked her quietly. She was studiously avoiding that portion of the room now, her eyes landing everywhere but on the stranger that unsettled her so.
"Would you talk to him for me, Freya? Just see what he wants. If it's nothing, then your drinks are on the house." I sighed, but I couldn't refuse. Hulda had done so much for me, it was the least I could do to check in on a shady customer.
"I'll hold you to that, Hulda," I said with a grin, pushing off on the counter and turning towards the man in the corner. I walked over and nonchalantly took a seat across from him. He didn't budge. I did a quick assessment, judging the threat level he could be and deciding that with his bow unstrung and leaning against the back of his chair, and no other weapons that I could see, it probably wasn't very high. At the same time, he could have had weapons stashed all over his body, hidden from sight. I'd take my chances.
I fixed my gaze on his, noting the fair skin, high cheek bones, and impossibly black hair as I went. He had the strong features of a Nord, but they were far too elegant to be Nord alone. Part elf, then, I decided. He sat beneath my searching gaze, saying nothing and making no movements. He simply watched me, watching him.
"May I ask what you're doing here, stranger?" I asked as politely as I could manage. He shifted in his seat, leaning forward and placing his forearms on the table. Even such a simple movement seemed impossibly graceful. He folded his hands together and studied me for a long moment before answering.
"May I ask why the famed Dragonborn is doing the bidding of a simple innkeeper?" His tone was light, teasing almost. My mood, already dark, darkened considerably more.
"I am doing a favor for a friend. That's all. She seems to think you're going to cause a problem, and I'm simply assuring her that you won't be a problem. I'd like to settle this peacefully, but if you'd like, we can take this outside and settle it my way." I didn't mean to come off so rude, but the stress of both past and future were straining me in ways I'd never felt before. Not to mention the fact that a good night's sleep had eluded me for the past few weeks. I was tired. Physically tired, mentally tired, and tired of waiting. The stress was causing more damage than I thought.
"Easy, Dragonborn. I meant no offense, I was simply curious." The stranger leaned back, giving me space, but kept his hands on the table in plain sight. Smart man, I thought. "It looks to me as though you would be the one to cause trouble here, not me." Perhaps not so smart.
"If you're not going to buy anything, then get out," I snapped. The other patrons of the inn were listening in now, curious about our exchange. I glanced around, instantly embarrassed by my behavior. Before I could say anything else, the dark stranger was out of his seat and on the move. He picked up his bow, bowed deeply to Hulda, who had been watching the entire exchange, and strode purposefully out of the inn.
"Shit," I muttered. Jumping from the chair, I raced to the door. "I'll come back to collect those drinks, Hulda!" I called over my shoulder as I fled the inn. Outside, the sun was shining full force. After the relative darkness of the inn, its brightness was blinding. I stumbled down the steps, tripping in my haste. When I was finally able to see, the stranger was halfway to the gates.
I ran to catch up, muttering pardons as I went to the passersby I disrupted. I called out to him, but he made no move to stop. I used the time to further assess his person. He wore dark leather armor, its condition run down but well cared for. On his back were two short blades, longer than daggers but not quite as long as a standard sword. Both were positioned upside down, blades crossed with the tips reaching his shoulder blades, the hilts resting just behind his hips. There was another hilt poking out of his right boot, one that belonged to an Elven dagger. My initial assessment amended, I decided he was far more dangerous than I first expected.
I sprinted the last few meters until I reached him, placing a hand on his back. He spun to face me so quickly I barely had time to register what had happened. His right hand was on the hilt of one of the short blades on his back, ready to face whatever threat he thought I posed. I held my hands at my sides, palms towards him, showing that I was unarmed and not a threat.
"Look, I'm not here to pick a fight. I came to apologize for what I said. I shouldn't have let my temper get the best of me like that. So, I'm sorry." My apology issued, I lowered my hands, letting them rest at my sides. He slowly relaxed his stance, his eyes shifting to our surroundings as if he still expected an attack. A rare shade of green, his eyes finally met mine, and his hand fell away from his weapon. He had his bow in his left hand, but unstrung we both knew it would be useless in a fight. Not that I was planning on fighting anyway.
His eyes narrowed, and he studied me for a moment before speaking, his voice low and immensely pleasing. "I wasn't aware that the Dragonborn apologized for anything." I sighed, shoulders slumping. Was my reputation really so terrible that a complete stranger would think me such an arrogant snob? I might be spoiled and accustomed to respect, but arrogant was not a word I would use to describe myself.
"I do when I've done something stupid. And I've definitely done something stupid. I really didn't mean to be so rude, and I truly am sorry I was. I won't try to make excuses, because there are none." As the Dragonborn, I should have been able to control my temper, no matter how stressed I was. But this man didn't need to know about any of that, and I wasn't about to try to explain to anyone how I was feeling. They wouldn't understand anyway. This was my burden to carry, and mine alone.
For a long moment, we stood in silence. It seemed as if his eyes could see straight through me. That despite the many walls I had built around myself for my protection, the calm demeanor I wore to lead others to believe all was well, he could somehow see what was going on inside. Inside, I was screaming. Screaming at the injustice, screaming in terror, screaming why me? His gaze became uncomfortable, and I broke eye contact and looked anywhere, anywhere else but at him. I settled on the toes of my dusty, travel worn boots.
"This is certainly an odd experience," he stated after a while, his voice amused. I looked up at him, and was met with a small smile. He had seen through me, seen right into my heart and soul. It was odd indeed, but I could not bring myself to smile. This stranger now knew how weak I truly was, and that the infallible Dragonborn was a thin shell, painstakingly painted over the real me.
This stranger now knew more than I wanted anyone to know. The people of Skyrim were counting on me to protect them and save them from their doom, and looked to me with hope in their eyes. But I was not worthy of their hope. This stranger knew this, and smiled. Not a mocking smile, or a smile meant to intimidate, but a smile that spoke of a mutual feeling. A smile that said, "I have been where you are now, and I have overcome my trials, just as you will."
It made me want to cry. I had not shed tears since the death of my parents all those years ago. I had hardened myself, and had not cried when Lydia had died trying to save me, or when Vorstag, or Stenvar had lost their lives while under my care. I forced back my tears, and my loneliness, and met his eyes with a hardened gaze.
"Just what exactly do you find so odd, hmm? That the fabled Dragonborn is not some unfeeling oaf of a warrior, and is actually human, and feels human emotions? Because yes, that is indeed odd, isn't it?" My foul mood had returned, and my words were an accurate reflection. I was frustrated, fed up, and ready to kill something. I was about to unleash another bout of shouting on this strange man when I heard it.
The distant echo of a dragon's roar.
A/N: Yes, things are very different. I felt like in DragonFriend, when I reread it, things were very rushed, and the characters were rather two dimensional and shallow. They lacked, well, character. There was hardly any backstory, and I was more worried about getting the story out than I was actually taking my time and making it something interesting to read. Hopefully you like this version better, and if not, feel free to let me know. Thanks for your time, everyone.
