"YOL TOOR SHUUUUUUUUUUL"
I dived behind the boulder just in time, the hot jet of fire incinerating the grass to my side. The World-Eater just couldn't give me a break. I was just about ready to call it a night when the damned dragon decided to ambush me on my way to Whiterun.
I fumbled with the bow on my back, readying it for fire. I exited cover, unleashing arrow after arrow at the vile dragon before me. Naturally, the arrows were barely scraping him, but it was to be expected, given that I was out of quality arrows. Talos knows just how useful iron arrows were to The World Eater. After firing hardly a dozen arrows, I pawed my quiver, finding it empty. Irritated at my decision of not bringing extra arrows, I drew my dragon bone sword and gritted my teeth. I was gonna give Alduin hell before I let him take me and Skyrim.
Alduin executed an abrupt dive, opening his massive jaws to swallow me whole. As the Bringer of the End himself swooped a little too close for comfort, I dished out my own shout of unrelenting force, causing Alduin to swerve unsteadily in his dive. The shout knocked the dragon off balance, causing him to knock off a good chunk of rock from a nearby cliff side. Alduin regained his composure after a moment and launched himself in my direction once again, mouth agape.
I swung upward and knew I landed a good strike. Blood erupted from the wound, the viscous dark-red liquid coating my arm and parts of my face. Alduin's head recoiled slightly from the attack. I had to guess that Alduin had enough of fun and games. Alduin changed the direction if his flight, moving so fast it was like he was nothing but a great black blur. And he was charging at me again at an alarming speed, maw ready to unleash hell. And this time I wasn't close enough to make it to cover.
The massive darkness in the World-Eater's mouth was illuminated by a great magical flame, ready to singe me alive. And this time all I could do was turn my head to the side as Alduin gave me a taste of his Thu'um.
"YOL TOOR SHUU-"
I awoke with a start, my eyes snapping open as I sat up so fast I felt nauseous. I looked around, confirming my whereabouts. I turned and lowered my feet to the ground and lazily stuck them into my fur boots. I took a moment to lower my head into my hands and rub my tired face. I could sleep for days at a time and I wouldn't ever look any less weary. The lines etched into my face were there to stay, the years of stress and hardship had taken a toll on me after all. The large burn scar down the side of my face was just more evidence of said hardships.
Despite being cured of my beast-blood, I still suffered from restless nights. Some nights I would wake up in cold sweat and be unable to simply go back to sleep. Other times I would have dreams about the past troubles I experienced; then I would wake up feeling like I hadn't slept in years. I assumed that my beast-blood was only partially to blame for my lack of rest. The life I lived was not one that left you sleeping easy at night, after all. Even years after everything transpired, I'd still recall all my failures, and all my victories. Some things in life you really don't forget just like that.
I pushed myself off of the bed and approached the closet. I swung it open and took my everyday clothes out, ignoring the dragon scale armor on the mannequin next to the closet. I haven't put the armor on for at least two years, since the defeat of Alduin. After the end of the World-Eater, it seemed that Skyrim had no more need for a hero. I had done all I could do
The Dark Brotherhood was back on its feet, and the Night Mother began speaking to none another than Nazir, much to my surprise. Aela was doing a good job at keeping the Companions in order. The College of Winterhold seemed to have moved a new archmage into power in my time of absence when dealing with Alduin. Brynjolf became the new master of the Thieves' Guild and the band of thieves was as lucky as ever. The jarls had plenty young adventurers to step up to become new thanes. The Empire won the civil war, and I delivered the killing blow to Ulfric. The remaining Stormcloaks were stamped out, hold after hold. They didn't need their Legate in this time of peace. The Blades and I were on bad terms after our last meeting, and I still had no intentions of giving in to their demands for Paarthurnax's head.
I spent months quietly readying myself to slay Alduin, and when I did fell the beast in Sovngarde, I returned to Nirn, to Skyrim. I returned unneeded. It was just to show how easily it is you could become obsolete to the masses. I hadn't even seen a single dragon since my return to Skyrim. It was as if they all went into hiding when they heard of Alduin's defeat.
How many people knew of the death of the World-Eater? All they knew was I was Dragonborn, slayer of dragons, hero of the people. The Dragonborn that disappeared for months. And just like that it was like I lost my purpose. I had nothing to get me out of bed in the morning. No reason to leave my home and help others. There were no dragons that needed slaying. No more bandits that terrorized the towns.
I suppose it is just a deep bitterness that resides in my heart. But the bitterness ate away at me until I was just a man angry at everything around him for his land leaving rendering him unneeded. I suppose maybe life is just unfair like that. When all you're good at is killing, and Skyrim rises to a period of peace under High Queen Elisif the Fair, there is little you can really do. You'd think being Dragonborn would help me regain my high stature around the province. But I was now regarded as little more than a has been. Why need the Dragonborn when there were no dragons assaulting the holds?
My period of absence from all the factions I led caused the lack of fate in me. Which is why Brynjolf was running the guild. Why Aela became Harbinger. Why 'mother' found a new Listener. Why Tullius had no use for me. Why a new archmage was moved into the seat of the college. And the list goes on.
And I sure as hell wasn't going back to the damned Bard's College for something to do.
There was a time in this period of inactivity wherein I thought it would be the right time for me to find a woman and settle down. I did this for a month or two before giving up the fruitless search for a suitable bride. There was nobody in Skyrim that had that appeal to her. And whenever I got close to a possible candidate, some major flaw would be revealed that would turn me away from her completely. And so I took to wasting away at home for years, doing nothing but sleep, eat and train myself harder with my weapons. To shoot straighter, to swing faster, and to basically fight better.
It was years since the last time I stepped out of Breezehome, and I would not be surprised if Skyrim thought their past hero dead by now. That is, if they thought about me at all nowadays. Although my death would not come as a great surprise, considering the dangerous life I lived.
When I closed the closet, I couldn't help but spare a glance at the magnificent, finely crafted armor. The left side displayed large scorch marks running down the shoulder to the thigh, acting as a memoir of one of my deadliest encounters with Alduin. Before I could dwell any longer, I turned away from the armor and went for the bedroom door, slipping on the simple green tunic and brown trousers before exiting. Once out of the room, I made my way to the dining room and bar.
The Argonian bartender bid me good day, bringing to my attention the fact that it was already midday. I pulled up a stool and rested my arms on the counter, ordering some venison before the Argonian could speak.
"Actually, master... We are out of fresh meat. The couriers are late for the usual drop offs and we, your servants, aren't allowed to leave your home. If you could pick some up at the market, it would be much appreciated and I will prepare your food at once" The Argonian casually wiped the counter as he spoke.
I grunted slightly in irritation but got off the stool without further complain. "I'll get the meat" I muttered as I stomped off to the ground floor. I passed by my trophy room on the way out. The long table was filled with tokens I had earned throughout the years, ranging from amulets to swords. I grabbed my preferred dagger from the display rack next to the table. Can't be too careful. The Blade of Woe. A weapon received from a person I held dear to me before her untimely death. I sheathed it and went for the exit, not wishing to dwell on my fallen comrade.
I decided to pay Carlotta a visit. I remembered her fresh meat and vegetables never failing to fill the stomach. I approached the front door, passing by a mirror as I did. The passing view of myself caused me to take a few steps back. My hair had grown to just above my shoulders and was parted slightly. My beard has grown and was rather long at this point, only a few scars preventing the growth of facial hair. There was a burn down the side of my pale face, a mark from the Devourer of Worlds that would never part with me. Some would say my golden eyes were always my most striking feature, drawing attention away from the many scars that marred my face.
I made my way to the door and struggled ever so slightly to open the door. The light blinded my vision and I could almost hear Alduin shouting the words that would scorch my face. Was it really that long since I was out in the sun?
I slowly stepped out from behind the door, letting the sun soak me in its rays, making me feel more alive again. Ysolda walked down the street, a basket of flowers in her hands and a surprised smile on her face when she saw me. I could guess she is one of those that assumed I simply died during my absence, hence the slight surprise on her face.
"Mikhael.." Ysolda said as she stopped walking. Her welcoming smile was a pleasant turn of events, and so I returned it with enthusiasm.
She took a step in my direction before her head snapped to the direction of the main gate. I mimicked the movement to see five men clad in strange armor appearing as if from thin air. My hand instinctively went to the my dagger, but I didn't draw it just yet. My fingers curled tightly against the hilt.
Two people who had been just leaning against the posts of Warmaiden's suddenly snapped into action, the speed of their reaction rather impressive. One was an Orc. He drew a strange weapon, very alien to me, and pulled a mechanism of sorts. With that, an arrow like projectile shot out at startling speed, embedding itself into the eyes of one of the spellcasters. The others suddenly drew weapons, while their free hands glowed an eerie red.
The sudden movement caused one Dunmer's hood to slip off. I then got a good look at his features. His nose looked like it was being tugged upwards, he bared sharp teeth and his eyes reflected light in the most unnatural way, glowing a fierce orange. Not to mention his face was quickly paling as the sun's rays engulfed him.
A vampire attack? Since when were vampires so bold as to attack in broad daylight in a hold capital? Who are the two men with the strange weapons? I had half a mind to simply back away and guide Ysolda to safety. Within moments I decided to do just that. I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and began to make her turn and leave.
"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?" This vampire was a large Nord, wearing the same armor as the rest. He had a large war axe in one hand and that eerie glow in his other. I shoved Ysolda out of harm's way and drew the dagger, holding it in a reverse grip.
The vampire stuck his left hand out, casting a spell. I braced myself for the impact, expecting a fire ball to scorch my face. Instead, I felt my heart quicken and my brain pound. I felt my breathing shake and my airway tighten. My throat dried at an alarming rate and my vision blurred. It was as if I was having a stroke or something. Some force gripped my life in its hands and was squeezing it. I felt my muscles tense and constrict, and knew I had to act soon.
I slashed with my dagger before the spell could take any more out of me. My attack cut his arm deep, the leather armor doing little to stop the incredibly sharp blade, and he recoiled, inhaling sharply. I didn't let him follow up with an attack. I dealt a kick to his armed hand, causing him to drop the axe. Defenseless now, his eyes widened, clearly not expecting a random civilian to draw a weapon and fight back. I lunged, aiming for the heart and easily plunging the Blade of Woe into my target, feeling my heart rate even out, my breathing steady, and my head stop pounding, the blade working its wonders.
I ripped the dagger free, coating my tunic in blood as the vampire's cadaver fell ground. The two men were dealing with several men dressed in simple armor that you'd find on any common bandit. Simple thralls by the looks of it. The three remaining vampires stalked towards me, eyes screaming murder.
I gritted my teeth and clenched the blade tighter in my hand. One vanished on the spot. He probably used some damned vampiric power to sneak up on me while I dealt with the others. The two remaining vampires were both armed with simple iron swords, but one was wielding both, while the other kept his hand free, ready to cast a vampiric drain on me.
The first attacked, using his spell to weaken me and give his companion an opening. The second vampire struck, both swords raised high. I spun a circle around him, cutting his side as I went. He clutched his side and grunted. The first one seemed agitated by this, as he then charged me with his sword. I shakily deflected the blow and let it slide off my blade. I fired a quick spark with my free hand, catching him off guard and causing him to stumble backwards.
The dual wielder, now recovered, struck again, one sword aiming to stab, the other raised to slash at me. I easily sidestepped the clumsy stab and grabbed his hand, my vise-like grip ripping the sword free from him. His second sword came swinging down to lop me in half from shoulder to hip. I blocked it with my dagger and kicked him in the gut, turning just in time to see his companion coming at me, sword high. I parried with the sword in my left, letting him take several unbalanced strides past me as our blades were freed from each other.
He bumped into his companion and I took the opportunity to plunge the sword into his back, eliciting a cry of pain. It wasn't good enough though. He turned around, sword still sticking out of his back and I was forced to stab him through the chest twice with the Blade of Woe. The bloodsucker dropped, the second strike going in too deep and the blade sticking out of his chest.
With a flash, the third vampire appeared somewhere behind me. Quick as lightning, I spun around to see the vampire, mouth agape to dig its fangs into my flesh. I grabbed his head and roughly snapped his neck in one motion. Although this would have killed a simple mortal, the vampire was simply disabled to some degree, his head hanging limply. I quickly yanked my dagger free from the dead vampire and used it to cut at the vampire's throat. It fell without further difficulty.
The last vampire now stood up, sword at his side, a crazy look in his eyes. His hand snapped in the direction of the three fallen vampires. The corpses then proceeded to twitch wildly and levitate until they stood on their feet without magical assistance. The reanimated corpses drew their weapons. My foes slowly approached me, growling menacingly and bearing their long fangs, hissing like rabid animals. I took a step back and took a moment to prepare my dragon tongue that lay dormant for years. The Thu'um I prepared myself to use was one that was as destructive to me as it had been to many of my foes.
"YOL TOOR SHUUUUUUUUUL"
Fire spewed from my mouth and the ferocious bellowing of the dragon within could be heard as I reduced my adversaries to ashes with the powerful jet of concentrated fire. Within seconds, it was over and the two unfamiliar men approached me as the dust settled around us. I belatedly realized that their armor was also new to me.
"You handle yourself against these things well, friend. The organization I work for could use someone like you" The Orc's gruff voice addressed me.
"Organization you say?"
"I work with The Dawnguard, a group of seasoned vampire hunters that live to protect Skyrim from the bloodsuckers" The Orc grinned as he saw the thoughtful look on my face.
Looks like I just found a new purpose.
"Killing vampires? Where do I sign up?"
A/N: So, that's the first chapter, or first oneshot if you will. I just want to make a note of how the Dragonborn feels. Those who have finished all the faction quests and side quests and then finished the main quest (or even if not in that order) will probably relate to this Dragonborn. When all's been finished it's like there's nothing left to do in Skyrim. That's the mood I was going for with this Dragonborn, because I know that's how I felt when I completed the faction and main quests. AND that's how I felt when I finally got Dawnguard, PS3 players I'm sure you felt overjoyed when it arrived. When I started Dawnguard with my original character I felt like I had a reason to play again (Other than randomly staging wars using the console commands)
The rest of this fic will be oneshots set in different parts of Dawnguard in chronological order, where things don't happen right after the other. Thanks for reading, and be sure to drop a review on your way out and tell me what you think. If you're a Dark Brotherhood, be sure to check out my other story :)