A/N: Although Alduin is in this, I will be using little dragon language in dialogue. I know he often speak in dragon language but researching the words will prove to be a pain. I will still use Shouts, and common words like 'drem yol lok' (peace fire sky – a dragon's greeting), 'joor' (mortal) and Dovahkiin (do I really have to say that one?). Thanks for reading :3
Phoenix stared at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, she would meet Paarthurnax at the Throat of the World. The Elder Scroll had been located, and the Time Wound would be repaired.
Yet she felt something else was coming.
Strangely enough, her thoughts leads her to Alduin, and their few brief encounters.
"Dragon!" a voice cried.
Phoenix stumbled to the ground. Deafening, inhuman sounds echoed from Helgen and most likely further.
A voice.
A strong hand grabbed her arm and tugged her up.
"Hey, prisoner. Get up! Come on, the Gods won't give us another chance!"
The blonde Nord male she'd met from the cart just moments earlier. Ralof, she recalled his name.
She scurried after Ralof, trying to ignore the pain in her side when she had fallen from the block just moments ago.
"Quickly, in here!" he gestured towards a door into the Imperial fort of Helgen. She obeyed, dashing in. Fear was settling in now, as she had begun to think of reasons for why there was a dragon, of all things saving her life. Well, so far.
She turned to Ralof, only to finding him conversing with the Jarl of Windhelm – Ulfric Stormcloak. Her contemplation lead her to ignoring little of what they had said, besides Ulfric saying something about 'legends don't burn down villages'.
"We need to move, now!" his thick, Nordic accent boomed through the tower, signalling everyone uninjured up the stairs – including herself and Ralof.
Phoenix darted ahead, only to find a pile of rubble blocking any exit.
"We'll have to find a different way out!" Phoenix called to the escapees below her.
Well, at least her problem was fixed.
The wall to her side was battered down in an instant, causing her to tumble and land on her bottom.
The dragon.
A sinister, dark head appeared, before a gout of flame engulfed the top of the tower.
And herself.
Phoenix shot up.
Had I fallen asleep? She thought.
"Phoenix, are you all right?" light footsteps on wood grew louder. It was just her steward, Marcurio. "I heard screaming."
"It's… I'm fine. Just a nightmare, that's all. Thanks for your concern."
"It is morning, by the way. If you're planning any adventures, you'll need an excellent mage such as myself at your side."
Phoenix laughed at his big-headed attitude. At least everything seemed normal – for now.
"Well… I think I'll handle this one on my own today. Thanks for the offer, though."
She slid out of her messy bedsheets, and wiped the sleep out of her eyes. She immediately headed down to her armoury, in which she stored all the items she needed for adventuring.
She slipped comfortably into her dragonscale armour, and added some potions and coin into her bag. Phoenix rarely ever brought more than her dragonbone dagger with her, as she preferred to use magic to summon her weapons. Many other Nords found her to be unusual, as she was no warrior – a mere spellsword. Still, none could argue with her battle prowess – and ability to slay dragons.
Phoenix stepped out into an early-morning snow storm – predictable. Even though, Falkreath did not usually get storms this heavy. Regardless, she slung herself on the back of her horse – Shadowmere – an headed in the direction of the Throat of the World.
A/N: Yes another one of these, sorry. And sorry again for such a short, anticlimactic chapter. I assure you the next one will be much more interesting. If I think of any improvements to make to this chapter, I will definitely update it.