A/N: Yay! You decided to check out my fanfic! Just for that, you will get nothing. Well, technically you would be getting access to my fanfic which I hope you will find to be a good read. When I said that you get nothing I meant… fuck it just read my work.

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This is it. Bjorn was sure this was it. He had heard of the civil war raging in Skyrim and immediately decided to return to fight for the true Nords. He was in luck, or at least he thought he was, when he saw a Stormcloak party headed across the border. It was easy getting into their good graces, all he had to do was be a Nord and not be an elf. But now he was standing in line, waiting for his turn on the chopping block. He felt deaf, hearing nothing but the whisper of death in his ear, feeling nothing but its cold touch, seeing nothing but the headsman's axe and the block of stone, both coated in fresh blood.

The Imperial woman's voice called out his name, sounding like it came from miles away. He was next. He walked towards his executioner, head hung low in resignation to his fate. The cold steel and leather gauntlet of the Imperial woman pushed him down, forcing him onto his knees and onto the chopping block. His eyes focused on the dead man's head inside a wooden box. For a brief moment, he saw his own head within the box, his braided blond hair coated with blood, empty blue eyes staring into nothingness. As his pale Nordic skin touched the man's blood, cooled thanks to the unforgiving cold his homeland was known for, he felt a wellspring of defiance burst forth from within his being. No, he would NOT die today! Not while he had done nothing to help his country.

He prayed to Akatosh, to Kyne, to Talos, to all the gods he knew existed to save him from this predicament. As he looked up defiantly at his executioner, he saw it. He saw it as it swooped down from the sky, its black scales and red eyes a stark contrast to the gentle white and blue of the sky. And then it roared. He felt it shake the world, warping it to its will. The sky quickly began to dye red and the clouds swirled in a vortex as fire began to rain down upon the Imperial town. The force of its voice knocked him to the ground just as soon as he realized what he was looking at. It was a dragon, a very powerful dragon.

"Get up prisoner! The gods won't give you a second chance!"

Bjorn was snapped back into consciousness by the command. Immediately he got up and ran towards the source of the voice. His eyesight was blurry for some reason, perhaps he hit the ground harder than he thought. His legs were working overtime, however, as they carried him towards a stone tower. He barely registered his former fellow prisoners when he sprinted up the tower, instinct telling him that he had to go there.

He was sorely mistaken as the wall broke down and the dragon spoke fire into existence, bathing the entire room in flames. As he considered going back down, he saw that the door he entered through was now blocked, and so his only choice was to jump through the hole and into the burning inn just across the tower. Before he jumped, he scanned the town that was peaceful, though tense, just a few moments ago. Now it was in flames with soldiers and townsfolk running everywhere, some were fighing, some were running away, and some were dead.

Deciding that he had no time to waste, he jumped and landed on the inn's upper floor with a thud. He ran through the flames and down onto the ground floor where he met an Imperial soldier guarding some townsfolk. For a brief moment, he forgot about the fires raging around him and felt pure hatred against these people who denied his people their freedom. He wished Talos would smite him where he stood.

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In the instant that the thought of the gods smiting his enemies crossed his mind, the soldier… vanished. Bjorn was first confused, and then he felt giddy. At first he felt that the dragon attacking just before he was supposed to be beheaded was coincidence, but now he was fairly certain that it was divine providence. Surely the gods, especially Talos, was angered at the Empire for refusing to worship him and now He had granted Bjorn with this special power! His thoughts were interrupted as the dragon landed in front of him. He smiled. Not even dragons were a match against the Divine. He focused all his thoughts on the dragon, hoping to draw out his latent powers….

And nothing happened. He dove out of the way as the dragon exhaled flames in his direction, singeing his clothes. The dragon took to the air again, and Bjorn took this chance to run. He ran across the Imperials trying to fend off the dragon, dodging the fireballs that were dropping out of the sky, and into the town keep. Feeling safe inside the thick stone walls, he collapsed onto the floor.

Why hadn't his power made the dragon disappear? Perhaps the Imperials he saw were no more than ghosts within his mind, a trick of the light, his anger given form through imagination. The dragon was nothing more than a coincidence, not an act of divine intervention. Or perhaps it was divine intervention, but not for him, after all he vaguely remembered sitting beside Ulfric Stormcloak on the cart ride into Helgen. Perhaps it was him the gods were saving, or he had called upon the dragon using the power of the Thu'um. In any case, he was saved as an indirect result of that. He was not special, just lucky. He could make do with that.

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A/N: Well, what do you guys think? I think it's a pretty solid introduction. I could actually have kept going all the way to the first dragon fight but I figured that it might be better to serve this story in small chunks. That way I (hopefully) would get more specific and detailed reviews. Also, I like nachos a lot.