A quick summary of this story: This story is focused on adventure, fantasy and action. Very minor to minor romance. Can contain heavy amounts of lore from the Elder Scrolls series.

This is also my first story, so expect general stupidity.

Read and constructively review. I aim to make my writing better for the future chapters. No unnecessary flame. Flame if you must, but it should be at the very least constructive.

(This chapter has been completly rewritten. Now includes the Berkian side of things. Style of writing may be inconsistent at times due to me rewriting some stuff from time to time.)

Let's get on with the show.

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Prologue


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Last Seed, Fourth Era year 201. Bruma, Cyrodiil.

It was time.

Mikael, a Nord from the city of Bruma, finally is going to see his ancestral homeland.

Skyrim. While most people outside Skyrim get images of a frozen wasteland with nothing but mud, Nords around Skyrim remember and know Skyrim as a place of proving. To know Skyrim, is to know it's people. The Nords are a tall and sturdy race, who have becomen the strongest warriors Tamriel has ever seen, thanks to their very homeland which melded it's people due to the need for survival. They are a true race of conquerors.

Thanks to a lot of persuading, patience and pleading, Mikael finally convinced his mother and father to allow him to leave town to visit his ancestral homeland. Both of his parents have done the same thing some time ago but that was before they had Mikael. One of the many arguments Mikael had was the fact that his family has a certain blood line of heroes. Champion of Cyrodiil, for one was his great-great-great and so forth father.

But before he was allowed to leave, he had to get some armor and a basic weapon as a means to defend himself. After all, his parents knew of the dangers of Skyrim. Cyrodiil's wildlife is tame compared to Skyrim, with only the occasional wolf roaming near the wilderness of Jerall Mountains. In Skyrim sabre cats, bears, ice wraiths and frostbite spiders roam the wilderness all the way from warm holds of Haafingar and Falkreath to the frozen tundra of Winterhold and the Pale.

Mikael knew how to fight, thanks to his mother who worked in the Fighter's Guild chapter of Bruma as a Defender. Even when Mikael was decently skilled with a blade, his father was overprotective. Working as an apprentice to his father at his forge also gave him decent amount of physical endurance, sometimes working the whole day fixing weapons and armour.

With courage and determination, Mikael finally stepped outside the gates of Bruma. Not that stepping outside the gates was a big step, he hunted occasionally with his mother in the wilds of Jerall Mountains and the Colovian Highlands. He had very basic skills as a hunter and an archer, but he did not care enough of those skills to hone them.

Mikael however did not completly plan his trip to the north. He could take the road to east towards Cheydinhal and then go north, and thus enter Skyrim through the Rift hold. It would be relatively safe to travel but would take a day or two more.

The second option was to go through Pale Pass. The Champion of Cyrodiil discovered the ancient fortress of Sancre Tor and recovered the Draconian Madstone deep within the ruin two hundred years ago. The so called Serpent's Trail however by the time of the Oblivion Crisis was filled with ogres, but these days the numbers of the ogres have been dwindling down thanks to the Champion, and the influx of travellers between Cyrodiil and Skyrim.

Reportedly the traffic between the two Imperial provinces have been dying down for the past thirty years. Firstly the Great War and its peace treaty, the White-Gold Corcordat created tension between the Nords of Skyrim and the Imperials of Cyrodiil. Secondly, heavy avalanches all but closed the Pass, but still allowing adventurers and other brave people to go through.

However thirdly the Imperial Legion just recently closed all the borders of Skyrim, preventing any Nords arriving to their homeland to assist in the concurring rebellion.

Mikael arrived at the Serpent's Trail. The door to the Trail was very remote, to the north from Bruma's eastern gate. Mikael only knew the basic directions to the trail from the Champion of Cyrodiil's memoirs, so he followed the road to north-east, passing the ruins of the Great Gate from the Oblivion Crisis. He followed the trail north until he arrived at Dragonclaw Rock, a rock formation in the form of a claw. From there he was supposed to head west until he would come upon the Sentinel. He did, and saw the Akaviri statue of a man holding a sword.

From there, all he needed to do was to head north. And he did, and saw the door to Serpent's Trail. It was very decorative, as it was for much of the Akaviri artifacts and buildings. He entered and lit up a torch to illuminate his way through the ancient trail of the Akaviri. Luckily for Mikael, he did not encounter any ogres inside the Trail. He would've not been equipped to deal with ogres properly, after all. A sword and light armor wouldn't do any good against a eight to nine feet tall monster, a mage or a skilled archer would be better against them.

After walking in the dark Trail for an hour or two he arrived in the Pale Pass. Pale Pass was mostly untouched by civilization for the past several centuries, leaving the wilderness relatively unscathed. Mikael walked across the Pale Pass, going past Fort Pale Pass where the Draconian Madstone resided two centuries ago. Not too far past the fortress was another cave trail, leading towards Skyrim.

Once he exit the cave and walked past a gate signaling that he has arrived in Skyrim, his breath was taken away. The Throat of the World right in front of him in all it's glory. Magnificent, and tall as many travellers visiting Bruma had said. The place where Kyne - or Kynareth to the Imperials - herself breathed life on Skyrim, according to a Nordic legend.

He followed the road down the hill where the gate to Pale Pass stood. According to his map, from where he was he could follow the road to north, then to west, north and then east, and then to north again until he saw the town of Helgen. There was an Imperial fort nearby as well, called Fort Neugard. Since he was in Skyrim and all he wanted to do was to see it all, he should head to Helgen first, and then plan to visit all holds and their capitals.

However, once Mikael turned to west he spotted an Imperial patrol.

'Odd to have a patrol this close to the border', thought Mikael.

He did not expect the patrol to spur into action once they saw him.

"Hold it right there!" one of the legionnaires shouted.

Mikael didn't do anything wrong, or so he thought. Skyrim is an Imperial province, and so is Cyrodiil. Why would travel between provinces be banned or restricted?

He turned around and chose to lose the Imperial patrol in the woods. Luckily for him, he was wearing lighter armor while the Legionnaires wore heavy steel armour. While Imperial legionnaires were professionally trained troops, the amount of weight they carried was simply higher than his.

He ran and ran past trees and run down a steep cliff until he was sure he was not being followed. He stopped by a cliff and noticed there was Fort Neugard right in front of him. After being almost captured by an Imperial Patrol, he decided not to go near the fort. He could hear the distant noices of metal clanking against metal, signaling that the fort was occupied.

He decided to go right, seeing there was a lake. He could probably sneak past the fort if he stuck the the left side of the lake. Remembering it was almost winter, he decided against swimming in the water. It could be frigid, and getting wet in this climate could prove deadly even for a son of Skyrim.

And so he did climbed the rocks near the lake and got past the late. Once he rounded around the fort there was a small opening. Perhaps a weak point for invaders. He peeked and saw some people inside the fort, but they weren't legionnaires. They were just marauders, bandits. Deciding to leave the bandits alone he continued along the makeshift wooden wall and a guard tower and saw the road again. He went down the road, leaving the fortress of bandits alone.

He continued alongside the road until he saw the gate and walls of Helgen come to view. Because of his recent encounter with the Imperials he chose not to enter the town. Maybe the patrol of legionnaires were already in there, putting up posters to look for him. As that thought entered Mikael he silently cursed himself. Not one hour inside Skyrim and he might be an outlaw already.

He continued the road to east, and heard the familiar clanking of metal yet again. He crouched down and hid behind a tree. There was a man posted behind some rocks, trying to keep himself warm. He wore some sort of leather armor, chainmail under it and with a blue sash over it. He looked like a mercenary, or a soldier. Bandits usually wore leather and fur. Deciding that these people might be worth talking to without getting into trouble, he approached the camp.

The soldier on watch was still trying to keep himself warm, holding his arms around his body. Once he lifted his gaze from the ground to in front of him, he saw Mikael approaching.

"Halt! What business you have here, brother Nord?" the soldier asked, holding an arm signaling Mikael to stop.

"I am a traveller from Cyrodiil. You don't look like bandits nor legionnaires. Who are you people?" Mikael asked

"Were the Stormcloaks, and this is our camp in Falkreath. You do not know about our cause, our fight for freedom?" the soldier said.

"No. I was almost caught by a legionnaire patrol when I got through Pale Pass to Skyrim. What's going on?" Mikael asked. He had truly no idea what was going on in Skyrim as any people in Bruma would.

The soldier looked at him for a moment, glanced behind him and saw his commander standing behind him. "I'll take it from here. You there, traveller. Come with me, and I'll tell you all about the recent affairs." the commander said.

Mikael obliged, albeit hesitantly. He followed the commander and walked past several tents. They were soldiers like legionnaires. No bandit group would have this kind of discipline with a clear commander or a watchman.

Once they both were inside the biggest tent, obviously the commander's tent, he waved the watchman back to his post.

"Formal introductions...I am Thorygg Sun-Killer. I am the commanding officer of the Falkreath Stormcloak camp. You are...?" the officer spoke and offered a hand to Mikael. Mikael shook his hand.

"I am Mikael, from Bruma, Cyrodiil. The soldier on post said something about fighting for freedom." Mikael asked.

"That's right. We are the Stormcloaks. I guess people in Cyrodiil have no idea of our struggle?" Thorygg huffed.

"No sir."

"You're not one of my soldiers, so you can call me Thorygg."

"Alright, Thorygg. So...what's going on?" Mikael asked.

"Oh yes, the current affairs of Skyrim. About less than thirty years ago, Ulfric Stormcloak liberated the city of Markarth from the natives of the Reach. In exchange for his help, the Jarl of Markarth had to allow the free worship of Talos. He agreed, but the bloody elves sniffed them. The Thalmor demanded the arrest of Ulfric, as it was against the White-Gold Concordat. The Legion arrested Ulfric to avoid a second Great War. This is known as the Markarth Incident." Thorygg grabbed a bottle of mead from an end table and started to drink it.

Thorygg finished his swig. "Ulfric got released, took his place as Jarl of Windhelm after his father died. High King Istlod died, so his son was formally named High King by the Moot. Ulfric demanded indepedence from the Empire during the Moot, but the snowbacks didn't aknowledge it. Later on Ulfric went to Solitude and challenged Torygg under Ancient Nord traditions. Knowing he couldnt refuse his challenge, Torygg accepted. The Imperials think Ulfric murdered Torygg, but we know the truth. Ulfric used the mightly Voice to knock Torygg down, and he finished the weak High King with his sword. He managed to flee the city and back to Windhelm, where Ulfric called for all sons of daughters of Skyrim to join him in his rebellion." Thorygg talked.

"Whoa...that's kind of awful. Personally I'd like not to see any kinsman go against other kinsmen..." Mikael said woefully.

"A shame, really. If only all sons and daughters of Skyrim joined with Ulfric, our rebellion would be short as we would oust the weak Empire out of Skyrim with ease." Throygg lamented.

"Allright, thank you for informing me of the current affairs. Right now though, I am only here to see Skyrim as my ancestral homeland. Even when I was raised in Bruma, I felt like it was my duty to see my true homeland at least once." Mikael said.

"Fair enough. You seem like a true son of Skyrim. If you wish to join us and fight for freedom, talk to Ulfric himself in Windhelm. If the Imperials are after you, remember that the Rift, Eastmarch, Winterhold and the Pale are under Stormcloak control. You should be safe in those holds." Thorygg said, pointing to Windhelm on a map that was on a table and then to the other holds.

"I'll think about it. For now, take care and may Talos be with you." Mikael said and left the tent with a wave.

"May Talos be with you too." Thorygg said.

Mikael left the camp and headed east. According to his map and Thorygg's advice, going to west wouldn't do any good. So he decided to head to Ivarstead. It was situated right on the base of the Throat of the World and in the western side of the Rift hold.

He walked through a mountain pass, passing by a cave and some hunters. A small blizzard had picked up but that didn't stop Mikael from walking forward. After all, he was a Nord. Cold, frost and frostbite were his element. He even passed by another traveller, an Imperial by the looks of it. He was trying to fight the blizzard as best as he could, but he wasn't a Nord. His ancestors hailed from the warm climates Cyrodiil, from open countrysides of West Weald to the Nibenay Basin.

He arrived at Ivarstead when sun was about to set, a perfect timing for him to go to an inn and rent a room. He walked through the village until he saw a sign for a tavern. "Vilemyr Inn", as it was called. Mikael stepped inside and welcomed the warm interiors of the inn.

"Hello there traveller. What can I get you?" the innkeeper called out behind the counter.

"How much for a room and a bottle of mead?" Mikael asked.

"10 septims for one night and 10 septims for a regular bottle. I got Honningbrew and Black-Briar as well, for 20 septims and 30 septims each." the innkeeper said.

"I'll take a bottle of this Honningbrew and one room then, please." Mikael said, handing 30 septims to the innkeeper. The innkeeper ducked behind the counter and handed a bottle to Mikael.

"Your room is over there. Let me know if you need anything else." the innkeeper said, pointing to the room to Mikael's right.

Deciding it was too early to sleep, Mikael took a gulp of mead then turning to the innkeeper. "Nothing else for now." He turned to see a woman play a lute quietly in the opposite side of the inn, playing a soft tune. He approached her and sat down on a bench near her.

"Hello there bard, can I make a request?" Mikael said. The bard stopped playing and turned to Mikael.

"Sure, what can I play for you?" the bard asked.

"Thing is, I'm from Cyrodiil. What are the popular tunes around here?"

"Well, there is The Age of Oppression which is a song for the Stormcloaks, popular here. Then there is The Age of Aggression, which isn't so popular here. You can guess why. Then...there is the legend, The Dragonborn Comes." the bard explained.

"Could you play The Dragonborn Comes?" Mikael asked.

"Ysmir's blessing on you." the bard picked up her lute again, then started to sing and play.

"Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart.

I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comnes.

With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art.

Believe, believe the Dragonborn comes.

It's an end to the evil, of all Skyrim's foes.

Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes.

For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows.

You'll know, you'll know the Dragonborn's come." the bard sang. Mikael listened deeply to the song, absorbing the tale of the Dragonborn. Once the bard stopped playing, Mikael and some other people in the inn clapped for the good song.

"Must be some hero." Mikael remarked.

"Talos himself was Dragonborn. And so was Ysmir. We'll never know when the next Dragonborn arrives, as the last one to walk on Tamriel was the latest Septim...don't remember what was his name." the bard said, trying to remember the first name.

"Martin. Martin Septim was his name." Mikael answered.

"That's right, now I remember." the bard exclaimed.

"I thank you for the song, it was brilliant. Here's some gold, you earned it." Mikael handed some septims to the bard who nodded. Mikael decided now would be a good time to sleep, so he walked in his room and laid down on the bed.

'Dragonborn...must be pretty cool to be one. Wonder what powers a Dragonborn could wield?' Mikael thought before falling asleep.

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Mikael woke up early the next morning, bought some food and filled his canteen with some fresh water in the river flowing next to Ivarstead as he left the small village. He walked the path leading out of the village, following the river. As he turned around a small cliff he ran into a small troll lair. Good thing Mikael knew a basis Destruction spell of fire that kept the troll at bay, but decided not to wrestle against a troll, so he ran.

He followed the river until he walked to a cliff where the river was now a waterfall. Skyrim was more beautiful than most non-Nords around Skyrim believed it to be, as he saw the vast valley of Eastmarch come to view as he walked closer to the steep cliffs leading towards Windhelm.

He trekked the spiraling path down the cliffs until he was at the base of the valley. In front of him was a bridge and behind it was a fortress. Probably guarded by Stormcloaks or bandits. However, he saw some familiar people walking towards him across the bridge.

More Stormcloaks.

Among them was an older man, wearing black fur clothing that would be fit for a Jarl. Was he the Ulfric Stormcloak, or some other Jarl who sided with him?

His suspicions were confirmed true, as suddenly Imperials jumped from under the bridge, blocking both ends of the bridge!

The legionnaires approached the Stormcloaks who had their weapons drawn, ready to fight well, or die trying. However, the leader of the group raised his hand.

"Put down your weapons!" the man ordered, and his soldiers reluctantly obeyed.

As Mikael was crouched down behind a bush to survey what was going on, suddenly a man stole one of the horses the Imperials had hidden away under the bridge. A legionnaire however whistled loudly, ordering the horse to stop, and it did. The thief was caught, apparently. Seeing how tense the situation was Mikael decided to back away slowly before the Imperials mistook him for a Stormcloak.

SMACK!

However, that never happened. Mikael was smacked right in the back of his skull, and he blacked out instantly.

Some time later, Mikael woke up with the worst headache of his life. He slowly opened his eyes, and found himself to be on a cart. To his left was an Imperial driving the carriage, and to in front of him was a Nord with a blond hair and a medium beard. To the Nord's right was another Nord with brown hair. Probably the horse thief, he remembered.

And to Mikael's right was the leader of the ambushed group.

He had a gag on his mouth this time. Mikael wondered why he and not the rest were gagged.

"Hey you, you're finally awake." the Nord in front him called out. "You were trying to cross the border, right?" Mikael only nodded, not bothing to speak with this throbbing headache. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush. Same as us, and that thief over there."

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell." the horse thief said and turned to Mikael. "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." the Stormcloak said.

"Shut up back there!" the Imperial carriage driver shouted.

"What's wrong with him, huh?" the thief asked, looking at the man to Mikael's right.

"Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" the Stormcloak barked.

Mikael was right, he was Ulfric Stormcloak.

"Ulfric? Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you...oh gods, where are they taking us?" the thief panicked.

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." the Stormcloak in front of him said.

"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." the thief panicked.

"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" the Stormcloak asked.

"Why do you care?" the thief angrily asked.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." the man answered.

"Rorikstead...I'm from Rorikstead." the thief said sadly.

"And you...where are you from, brother Nord?" the Stormcloak asked from Mikael.

"I'm from Bruma, Cyrodiil." Mikael answered shortly. The Stormcloak nodded, accepting the answer and not pressing him any further.

They arrived at Helgen. Looks like was going there no matter what.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting." a legionnaire guarding the gate to Helgen said.

"Good, let's get this over with." the General said.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me." the thief panicked.

As the cart drove to the left, the General went to the right, talking to some High Elves. The Thalmor. Mikael only saw them once inside Bruma, hunting down Talos worshippers. Seeing them made Mikael's blood boil.

"Look at him, General Tullius the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this." the Stormcloak said, glaring at the General and the Thalmor. The man then glanced around before speaking again.

"Ah, this is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make feel so safe."

Mikael glanced around as well. He saw some people outside their homes, glaring at the prisoner being hauled in carts. He even barely heard a boy ask who they were but his father told the boy to get inside a house. He then remembered that the guard at the gate mentioned a headsman.

'By the Nine, they aren't going to execute me, right?' Mikael thought, panicking slightly.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts, move it!" a woman shouted.

"Why are we stopping?" the thief asked.

"Why do you think? End of the line." the Stormcloak said calmly.

'This man is oddly calm.' Mikael thought. The cart stopped.

"Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." the man smirked.

"No wait, we're not rebels!" the thief pleaded.

"Face your death with some courage, thief." the man said condescendingly to the thief.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" The thief yelled.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!" the woman yelled. She wore heavy Imperial steel and wore a captain's helmet. To her left was a man in lighter legionnaire armor.

"Empire loves their damn lists." the Stormcloak said.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." the legionnaire called out.

"It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric." the Stormcloak said as Ulfric moved towards the block.

"Ralof of Riverwood." the man wrote to his book and called out the next name. This time the Stormcloak moved.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." the legionnaire wrote to his book again.

"No, I'm not a rebel, you can't do this!" Lokir pleased but then started to run past the Imperial Captain.

"Halt!" the captain yelled.

"You're not gonna kill me!" Lokir yelled as he ran across town.

"Archers!" the captain commanded and promptly some legionnaires nocked an arrow, pulled the string and fired at the runnng fugitive. The thief fell down and died as soon as arrows filled his back.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the captain threatened to the Stormcloaks.

"Wait. You there, step forward." the man called out to Mikael. Mikael stepped forward reluctantly. "Who are you?" the legionnaire asked.

"Mikael Honor-Blood. I'm from Bruma, Cyrodiil. And please believe me, I wasn't with the rebels!" Mikael pleaded for his life.

"You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman." the legionnaire lamented then turned to his captain. "Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list?" For a moment, Mikael thought he was okay. He didn't run, after all.

"Forget the list. He goes to the block." the captain said.

"By your orders, Captain." the legionnaire said then turned to Mikael. "I'm sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland. Follow the captain, prisoner."

Homeland.

Mikael got his wish, and with what price?

He followed the captain, and stopped where most of the Stormcloaks were standing over. The General was standing now in front of Ulfric.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." the General taunted Ulfric. Ulfric only grunted with his mouth gagged.

'So that's why he was gagged...' Mikael thought.

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace." the General said accusingly to Ulfric.

Suddenly, however a voice echoed around the air. It sounded like a wolf's howl, but way more reptilian...and no wolf could howl so loud that it would echo around the air.

"What was that?" the legionnaire from before asked.

"It's nothing. Carry on." the General ordered.

"Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rites." the captain turned to a priestess behind her.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines be upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved..." the priestess started but suddenly a Stormcloak stepped forward upon mentioning the "Eight" Divines.

"For the love ofTalos, shut up and let's get this over with." the Stormcloak angrily said.

"As you wish." the priestess angrily complied.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning." the Stormcloak taunted the Imperials. the Captain walked behind the Stormcloak, nodded to the headsman and forced the Stormcloak to bend over and put his head to the chopping block. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" the Stormcloak continued to taunt the Imperials as the headsman raised his axe, and then swung it down, decapitating the Stormcloak.

There was an audible gasp around the crowd and the villagers watching the scene. The captain pushed the dead Stormcloak off the chopping block, making it ready for the next prisoner.

"You Imperial bastards!" a Stormcloak yelled.

"Justice!" A man shouted from behind Mikael. One of the villagers.

"Death to the Stormcloaks!" another yelled.

"As fearless in death as he was in life." Ralof said.

"Next, the Nord in the rags!" the Imperial pointed to Mikael.

Suddenly, the loud noise echoed around the air again. This time it was slightly louder.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?" the legionnaire asked again.

"I said, next prisoner!" the Captain crossed her arms.

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy." the legionnaire said.

With weak, almost collapsing legs, Mikael walked forward to the block. Is this the way he was supposed to die? As collateral damage to this civil war?

As he stopped in front of the block, and the captain pushed him down, ready to be executed. He turned his head to the left to have a view of the headsman.

'Talos help me.' Mikael thought, as he awaited for the headsman to swing his axe.

But it never came.

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Outcast Island, Barbaric Archipelago. Somewhere between 1000 AD and 1100 AD.

A Viking was giggling and cackling while pacing around a cage, housing a Night Fury. The Night Fury growled at his captor, while the deranged Viking only said 'Aww!' at him.

"Are the other dragon riders here, son?" a behemoth of a Viking, Stoick the Vast said to his son, Hiccup next to him.

"Well, not exactly." Hiccup said.

"Oh, the Berk fleet." Stoick guessed.

"No..." Hiccup answered.

"Do you have any plan at all?" Stoick asked.

"I-I do, actually." Hiccup stammered.

"Oh good. Good." Stoick said, slightly satisfied with Hiccup's answer." Stoick was silent for a second but: "Would you like to fill me in?" Stoick asked, slightly annoyed at Hiccup's cryptic hints.

"Uh, no. I'd just like to watch it unfold, if it's all the saame to you." Hiccup said.

"I have big plans for you, mr. Night Fury. You'll be the new symbol of the Berserkers. Every corner of the archipelago will know and fear you." Dagur talked to the Night Fury.

Suddenly, an Outcast soldier working for Dagur disappeared into the group. Nobody other than Hiccup and Stoick noticed that.

"Of course, we'll need to change all the sails and shields, and I'll need a new belt buckle...mm, what's that gonna cost...Well, we'll worry about that after we've burned Berk to the ground." Dagur mused out loud. And another Outcast disappeared next to Stoick.

"Hey, how about...'Deathkiller'?" Dagur turned around, but failed to notice two more Outcasts disappear behind him. "You like that name? Deathkiller? No? Oh well. We'll keep brainstorming. I mean, there's gotta be 'death' in it, right? I mean-" Dagur talked to the Night Fury but suddenly behind him a Whispering Death burst from the ground, looked menacingly at the group of humans but escaped the Outcast arena.

Then three more Whispering Deaths burst from the ground, causing chaos amongst the ranks of Outcasts and Berserkers.

"Wha- what's going on? What is this?" Dagur asked nobody in mind aas the Whispering Deaths started to ravage the Arena.

And suddenly, Alvin the Treacherous, former leader of the Outcasts and Mildew, a Berkian social outcast arrived riding on a Whispering Death's tail. Alvin then tossed Mildew to the cage where the Night Fury was imprisoned. Mildew hastily got on his feet, opened the cage and released the muzzle on the Night Fury.

"Alvin, Mildew and Whispering Deaths. This was your plan?" Stoick asked, slightly alarmed at the level of craziness in Hiccup's plan.

"Did not see that coming, did you?" Hiccup smiled.

Alvin then arrived and cut the binds behind the two Vikings' backs.

Alvin cackled while releasing Stoick. "Just like the good old days." Alvin said and pat Stoick on the shoulder.

Amidst the chaos Alvin, Stoick Hiccup and Toothless the Night Fury fought Berserkers and Outcasts. Suddenly however the floor of the Arena collapsed from all the tunnels the Whispering Deaths made, making Toothless fall several meters below. The metal cage above the Arena creaked and bent inwards to the Arena, and Hiccup managed to grab one of the bars to avoid falling to his death. Stoick managed to grab Alvin's hand from falling down, and heaved him over the edge and out of the Arena.

"Okay Night Fury. Come to daddy." Dagur taunted Toothless. Toothless growled and tried to fire a plasma blast but found inability to do so.

"Six shot limit. Oh great." Hiccup commented, hanging from the cage. The ground shook heavily, almost making Hiccup slip from the cage.

Toothless growled while several Outcasts and Berserkers cornered the Night Fury.

"Get me my Night Fury!" Dagur commanded and all of the marauders attacked.

Toothless managed to swat a couple of bad guys away with his wings and tail but Dagur climbed on, trying to stay on as Toothless spun around and hopping around hoping to lose the maniac Viking on his back.

Toothless then pushed his head upwards, causing Dagur to go airborne for a moment then swat him away like a baseball bat. Toothless jumped up several levels to get closer to his rider, but as Hiccup was slipping away, he nodded to Toothless. Hiccup released his grip, falling to his death but Toothless jumped after his Rider, catching him on his back. Hiccup clicked the tail open and slowed their descend to the ground.

As they touched ground even more Berserkers and Outcasts showed up. They tried to attack the Night Fury and his rider but Toothless was a Night Fury, too fast for a normal human and swatted the advancing humans with ease.

As a huge group of marauders approached the pair, way too many to attack at once suddenly fire came from the skies, making the marauders flee.

"Whoa, this is chaos on a level I've never seen before!" a female twin Viking, Ruffnut on her head of a Zippleback said.

"I know. I want to live here." The male twin, Tuffnut said.

"Forever!" Ruffnut said.

"Boy are we ever glad to see you guys." Hiccup said happily.

"Don't thank us yet. Things are about to get a lot crazier." a blonde Viking, Astrid said from atop her dragon, Stormfly.

As fighting continued inside the island, the Vikings on the island suddenly heard a scream far away from the island. It was Fishlegs, luring a Screaming Death to the island.

"Why in the name of Odin did you bring that here?" Stoick asked from Hiccup.

"This may be the only chance we have to get rid of it. I saw the Screaming Death's mother. It's been destroying those islands searching for her." Hiccup explained.

"That thing has a mother?" Stoick asked, slightly shocked to hear a monster of that caliber of having a mother.

"Yeah."

The mother Whispering Death saw the Screaming Death, and the Screaming Death saw her while chasing Fishlegs.

"They've seen each other. All we have to do now is get them together and get clear of this place." Hiccup explained his plan.

"Then what?" Astrid asked incredulously.

"I'm hoping it does exactly what I think it should."

"And...what would that be?"

"Something...good?"

The Screaming Death kept roaring loudly as he chased Fishlegs. They were now over the island.

"Now Fishlegs, now!" Hiccup shouted.

"Thank Odin, thank Odin, thank Odin." Fishlegs thanked the All-Father of the Vikings. "Root away!" Fishlegs announced as he dropped the Dragon Root to the depths of the oceans.

The Screaming Death wasn't focused on Fishlegs anymore as he dropped the Root. The Whispering Death mother roared loudly to the skies to catch her colossal offspring's attention, and it did. The Screaming Death looked relatively calm when he saw his mother below.

"Ah...I see. It wants it's mommy." Dagur thought out loud. He and some other Berserkers then grabbed the Whispering Death with some ropes, trying to constrict her.

"Dagur no! You don't know what you're doing. You let that Whispering Death go before you destroy us all!" Hiccup warned Dagur.

"Why would I do that? Hello, I'm deranged!" Dagur pointed out his moniker.

"Well, can't argue with a logic like that. Right?" Tuffnut said.

Seeing his mother being captured by some lowly humans, the Screaming Death entered a rage, destroying the island.

"Back off, Hiccup. You know if I destroy her, that thing will take us all out!" Dagur threatened.

"He's right. Everyone, back off." Hiccup ordered everyone to stand down.

"Wise choice. Now, I might be interested in a trade." Hiccup furrowed his brows, kind of seeing that coming. "Oh come on, really? You couldn't see this coming?" Dagur pointed out.

"Never retreat! Never surrender!" a voice called out from the skies.

"Snotlout!" Hiccup tried to stop the Jorgenson clan Viking from doing anything stupid.

Snotlout and Hookhang, his Monstrous Nightmare, used a combination of fire and wing blast to knock the Berserkers out, freeing the Whispering Death.

The Whispering Deaths reunited with the Screaming Death. The mother and the Screaming Death nuzzled each other for a second then remembered the humans that fought the Screaming Death not too long ago, and now helped him.

The Screaming Death suddenly flew right in front of Hiccup, and roared very loudly. Maybe because of he helped his mother reunite with him, he won't eat him now.

"Uh, you're welcome." Hiccup said to the Screaming Death as he and the Whispering Deaths flew to the sunset.

"Okay, I know I wasn't following orders, Hiccup. But I...well, um..." Snotlout said as he landed in front of Hiccup.

"Snotlout, you did the right thing." Hiccup smiled.

"Yeah, I did but- wait, what?" Snotlout was confused. "Are you messing with me? I was reckless." Snotlout challenged Hiccup.

"Sometimes reckless can be courageous. Your suspension is...well, suspended." Hiccup extended his right arm to Snotlout, and Snotlout shook it.

Overall, the battle for Outcast Island was over. The arena was completly sunk, the Screaming Death caused lots of damage to the stone buildings of the island. An hour or so passed when Alvin, the Riders and Stoick surveyed the damage to the island. Alvin even managed to re-recruit some Outcasts back because they genuinely thought he was dead.

Hiccup then saw Alvin and Stoick talk to each other near a cliff.

"Who'd have thought it would've come to this, eh Stoick?" Alvin chuckled.

"There's more than enough blame to go around Alvin. But that's in the past. What you did today for me, for my son..." Stoick admitted and offered a handshake to Alvin to rebuild their old friendship.

As Alvin shook his hand, a sudden thought entered Alvin's mind.

"Say...where's Dagur?" Alvin said.

"Must've managed to slip away, again." Stoick grumbled.

"Y'know, we now have a common enemy. An' y'know what they say? An enemy of my enemy..." Alvin started.

"...is my friend." Stoick finished. "I suppose we could forge an alliance. We haven't been exactly in contact with other tribes after we introduced dragons to our lives."

"Aye. But from what I know, Dagur hasn't used the bulk of his fleet yet. I'd be prepared for an assault on yer island soon, an' prepare for a proper full-on war." Alvin advised.

"War? Like total war with the Berserkers?" Hiccup said worriedly.

"Aye son...and there are some preparations we need to do right away. Let's get back to Berk." Stoick said, climbing on Toothless, behind Hiccup.

"Such as what?" Hiccup asked, guessing what Stoick was implying.

Stoick sighed. "Such as training more dragons and dragon riders for war. It is necessary son. Dagur and the Berserkers have a one hundred ship armada and fifty thousand foot soldiers strong. We are a smaller tribe, and with just you and the others won't be enough."

Hiccup sighed, seeing the truth in his father's words. "Yes dad. Let's go."

o~-~-~-~-~o


o~-~-~-~-~o

Last Seed, Fourth Era year 204. Ivarstead, Skyrim.

Three years.

Such a relatively short time, but even in that small frame, a lot of things can happen to an invidual.

Unfortunately, Mikael was one of said inviduals.

He miraculously escaped Helgen after awaiting the executioner's axe. The axe never came, as a creature straight from ancient legends appeared before them. A dragon. Ironically, a dragon saved his life, before razing the small town of Helgen to ground.

Even more ironic is the fact that Mikael was discovered as a Dragonborn some time later.

A Dragonborn is an invidual born with the blood and soul of a dragon. Usually brought into the world in times of great need. Talos - Tiber Septim as he was called in his mortal life - was a Dragonborn. Reman Cyrodiil and Saint Alessia were Dragonborn.

This time, a Dragonborn wasn't sent to the world to create an Empire of Men, but to hunt down dragons. A Dragonborn can kill a dragon permanently by devouring their souls. If a dragon was killed but his soul wasn't absorbed by a Dragonborn, their spirit would remain on Nirn, thus being able to be resurrected.

And that was what a certain dragon from ancient times was doing.

Alduin the World-Eater, returned from ancient times to consume the world. He started to resurrect many of his kin upon being released on Nirn once again. However, as Mikael was discovered Dragonborn, he started to follow wherever Alduin went to resurrect his kin whenever he was able to, and permanently slayed them.

Now, his next quest was to learn the Thu'um that won over Alduin in ancient times.

The Thu'um is a form of magic, Spoken in the language of the dragons. It can accomplish many feats like breathing fire or frost like a dragon would, travelling over great distances in an instant or causing a shockwave that would knock even a giant back. The Thu'um can be learned by anyone with correct discipline and patience, but as Dragonborn Mikael learned a lot in three years which would most likely take an entire life for a normal mortal being.

In addition to that, Mikael learned a lot in the ways of the sword. Travelling all across Tamriel, all the way from High Rock to Black Marsh, and from Valenwood to Morrowind, learning from different masters of Tamriel while also doing mercenary work for the Fighters Guild all around Tamriel and the Companions of Skyrim. The only province Mikael has not visited was Summerset Isles due to his status and hate for the Thalmor.

His favoured weapon was a longsword, big enough to be used with two hands effectively, and light enough to be used one-handed. Crafted from dragonbone, stahlrim and moonstone, it proved a very effective tool for defeating his enemies. His armor was a true work of art as well, made from dragonscale, stahlrim and moonstone. Very strong, and very light.

His latest quest brought him all the way to the depths of a Dwemer ruin to recover an Elder Scroll. He had to work with an insane College mage to learn the location of it, but he still had to find it. And so he did. Now, all he had to do was to read it.

A normal mortal with the basic knowledge of the Scrolls would say it is madness. But according to a very ancient dragon, almost as old as Alduin himself that Mikael should read it in a tear of time on the top of the Throat of the World.

He was now in Ivarstead, before making the trek to High Hrothgar. It was the eve of three-year anniversary of escaping Helgen. And as it was three years ago, he was in Ivarstead the day before. He stepped inside Vilemyr Inn and saw the bard, Lynly Star-Sung, play the lute as she usually did.

"Hail, Dragonborn. What can I get you?" the innkeeper, Wilhelm called out.

"Just call me Mikael, please." Mikael waved the innkeep off before sitting down at the bar counter. "Give me two bottles of Honninbrew, some cooked meat and fill my flask with water, please."

"Planning on another adventure?" Wilhelm pried.

"No. Just going to High Hrothgar again." Mikael replied curtly.

"Do you ever get tired of walking the Seven Thousand Steps?" Wilhelm asked. Mikael only glared at the innkeep, tired of his questions. "No need to look at me like that. I'm sure it is good exercise." Wilhelm raised his hands.

"Nothing compared to fighting a dragon, multiple dragons or hordes of Draugr, but yeah." Mikael said. He received the items he requested and paid the innkeep a fair sum of septims before heading out again.

Exactly three years ago, he wondered how cool it would be to be a Dragonborn. To be able to Shout, use the Thu'um that would rival the power of the sun, as an ancient bardic song told.

He got his wish.

He was very reluctant at first, but being a true Nord, through and through he accepted his fate and carried out his duty.

He walked the Seven Thousand Steps yet again. Mikael has walked the Steps so many times in the passing years that he has about exterminated any predators that would prey on anything on the steep mountain. He would occasionally see a wolf pack from the base of the mountain to about halfway to the monastery but past that it is always peaceful. It was good, as Mikael always prayed and meditated at the stone tablets along the road.

Mikael journeyed on, trekking up the mountain until he reached the mountain monastery of the Greybeards, High Hrothgar. He considers the monastery his true home. He might own select property all around Skyrim and even some cities around Tamriel but they were nothing but elaborate tavern rooms to him.

As Mikael opened the doors to the monastery, he was greeted by Arngeir as always.

"Welcome back, Dragonborn." Arngeir bowed slightly.

"Just call me Mikael, for the love of Talos." Mikael angrily replied.

"I take it you found the Scroll?"

Mikael took the Elder Scroll out of his satchel and showed it to Arngeir. "Yes, Master. I'll stay here overnight before heading to the summit again."

"As you wish." Arngeir bowed and resumed meditating in the center hall.

Mikael then went to his personal room in the monastery. It took some time, but he managed to make an entirely new wing to the monastery, next to the meeting room. It housed most of Mikael's priced artifacts and treasures. From adventuring all over Skyrim in search of Words of Power he found several dragon priest masks, one of which is a plain wooden mask found in the ruins of the Labyrinthian. He chose only to wear that to conceal his identity at times or cover his face from the blizzards, heavy rain and harsh ash storms of Solstheim and Morrowind.

Mikael usually scorned Daedric artifacts and their masters, but he managed to collect some of them. Inside a tightly locked chest was Azura's Star, Dawnbreaker, Oghma Infinium, the Spellbreaker, Sanguine Rose.

He has had one encounter where he openly defied a Daedric Prince and that was against Vaermina, whose prized artifact was causing the city of Dawnstar nightmares.

He plopped down on his bed, exhausted from the trip to the monastery. It was late night when he reached the monastery, so he decided to rest before heading to the summit. He even did not bother taking off his armour to sleep, but thanks to the armor being custom fitted only for him it was no problem.

The next morning Mikael only grabbed a piece or two of bread for breakfast, then travelling to the summit. He always liked the summit, the very peak of Tamriel. It is the highest point of all Tamriel, and thus air was slightly thinner at the summit. Usually Mikael trained or meditated there, with his mentor, Paarthurnax.

Speaking of the Daedra, the said old dragon was perched on a rock, awaiting Mikael's arrival.

"You have it. The Kel, the Elder Scroll. Tiid kreh...qalos. Time shudders at its touch. There is no question. You are doom-driven. Kogaan Akatosh. The very bones of the earth are at your disposal. Go then. Fulfill your destiny. Take the Scroll to the Time-Wound. Do not delay. Alduin will be coming. He cannot miss the signs." Paarthurnax rumbled.

"Thank you for reminding me of that, Paarthurnax. I completly needed those encouraging words." Mikael sarcastically said to the old dragon.

"Dovahkiin, didn't you say you wanted to defeat Alduin, my brother? Zeymahi? You wished this world, Nirn to seaze to exist. Vus ul." Paarthurnax pried.

"Yes, I did. Now if you don't mind, I have a Scroll to read." Mikael said, pulling the Elder Scroll out his satchel and walked towards the Time-Wound.

"Paaz. Fair enough." Paarthurnax said.

As Mikael approached the Time-Wound, he took a deep breath. He has read this particular Elder Scroll before alongside with two others before but that was with the assistance of the Ancestor Moths. Now, he had to read it without being granted a second vision.

He opened the Scrolls slowly, and was immediately bombarded with visions of constellations of the Elder Scrolls.

Not too long after, he saw himself standing at the same spot as where he read the Elder Scroll - at the summit of the Throat of the World. He saw the ancient Nord heroes of old - Hakon One-Eye, Gormlaith Golden-Hilt and Felldir the Old. The first two fought against a servant of Alduin before fighting against Alduin himself.

They shouted in unison when Alduin spoke threateningly to the ancient Nords:

"JOOR ZAH FRUL!"

Upon hearing the Shout Mikael understood the words and concepts of the shout. Mortal, finite, temporary. It forces a dragon to experience the very concept of mortality, an impossibility to the immortal children of Akatosh.

Once Alduin was "defeated" by the ancient Nords of old by sending Alduin to the currents of Time, Mikael began seeing constellations yet again, but they were horribly warped and distorted. He saw himself being surrounded by the very same cyan portal that sent Alduin to the currents of Time. He felt dizzy, like being spun around constantly, and felt a terrible headache.

'What is happening?' Mikael thought before seeing himself appear tens of meters above ground, then free falling below.

Upon hitting the ground, Mikael landed with one of his legs first, and then blacked out when his head hit the ground.

o~-~-~-~-~o


Allright, I know what you're thinking if you are well versed in the Elder Scrolls lore. It should be impossible to travel outside Aurbis (The entire Elder Scrolls universe, including Mundus, Aetherius and the planes of Oblivion), but I wanted to write this crossover for fun, so I kind of had to break a few rules while still kind of staying true to the lore. Elder Scrolls are kind of a wildcard anyway. As a certain character pointed out, there is no knowing what would happen when reading or using them.

Throwing Tamriel on the same planet as the Barbaric Archipelago wouldn't make any freaking sense, by the way. More on that later.