So, wonderful readers, this is my first fanfic on this account and my first fanfic for Skyrim. Just a little something to get started. Thought it would be interesting to have something just on the Dragonborn. So please comment what you think about the story~!
So without further ado...
Disclaimer: All rights go to Bethesda and what I own is my plot line and characters.
"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the
pain lessens. But it is never gone.
-Rose Kennedy
It wasn't often that she allowed her childhood memories to slip from the dark reaches of her subconscious; she made sure to keep them strictly under lock and key. But when they had, suddenly shooting to the top of her brain like fireworks, shook her to her core. She exactly wasn't sure what let them surface; she hasn't done anything to make Vaermina pissed as far as she can recall, and as she trudged through Dwemer ruins and Ancient Nordic tombs they have, in fact, distracted her from the not-so-pleasant memories.
So why?
Why out in the middle of a wooded area in the Reach? Was it an after-shock from when she passed through Rorikstead as she saw the twin girls, Britte and Sissel, she saw herself as well? Perhaps it was because she was near Markarth, the place she had lived in for her teenage years? Or was it, for some reason, seeing a calf so helpless in the middle of the woods with no family whatsoever?
This made her crouched form go completely ridged. The blood drained from fair, rosy cheeks as she lightly took in air from her slightly parted pink lips. Just as the shock was there, it vanished and twisted her elegant features in fury. She tightened her jaw and chewed on the inside of her lip as she felt the power of her Thu'um building up and threatening to break from her lips.
Now completely irate, she let her emotions drive her as she grabbed the glass bow she called Ma'do from its holding place on her back and nocked a glass arrow in the bowstring and harshly pulled back. She held composer, her hand as still as the lifeless wind around her, but inside her entire being trembled. Her almond, hazel eyes peered through her jagged, dirty blond hair like a scope as she held contact with the animal from behind a tree.
She was known by several names over the years. At birth, her mother had given her the name Sandrine, it was the only thing her mother had ever given her before she disappeared and was never seen again. As she grew up, her tempered, mead-drunken father spewed many nasty words Sandrine could not really remember, as she was too 'out of it' on skooma to truly recall.
The strong smell of mead wafted around the tiny house. A burly looking man with strong muscular arms, neck-length blonde hair, and bright blue eyes stumbled into the main room and threw his bottle of mead straight to the floor near the tiny feet of a Nord girl with similar features hiding behind a bookshelf. Whether he knew she was there or not didn't matter because the girl gave a small, frightened yelp. He swayed over to the hiding girl and proceeded to snatch the girl's dirty blond hair as he forcibly pulled her out into the open. She thanked the Gods she drank that small bottle of skooma early she had gotten as a reward. Her body always felt tingly and her head felt fuzzy after she drank it, but what she really used it for was to help numb her senses and the pain that was to follow.
As a teen, she also went by the name "Skooma-Skeever" in the darker places of Markarth. She was a natural at smuggling moon sugar and skooma in and out of the city undetected (all the while "accidently" letting her fingers linger near an Imperial's coin bag). The Khajiits were impressed with her stealth, skill, and natural-knowledge in the trade they took Sandrine in and trained her blossoming silver-tongue talents.
She had only lived a few months with the Khajiits, and in those few months she felt a sense of belonging. A woman Khajiit named Aahni had given her the name Kiheh. Though the life Sandrine lived was dangerous, they cared for her as if she was one of their own.
It was a trade gone wrong between bandits and as a result one by one slaughtered nearly the entire group. Aahni acted quick and grabbed ahold of a petrified Sandrine's hand and ran straight for the thicker part of the forest. Behind her tears, all she could see was a blur of Aahni's fur in front of her. She then slowed down to take a breath and mustered up her dry voice to speak, "Kiheh, my daughter, make something of yourself. Aahni is an old woman and cannot run anymore." She held the young woman in a tight embrace one last time before Aahni took off and ran back the way they had come, not looking back once. Sandrine, numbed by the cold air, was stranded all alone in the middle of the white blanketed forest.
That day, she let her feet control her direction as she ran forward. She was indifferent to the sharp, naked branches that clawed at her face and body because all she could feel was her heart hammering painfully in her chest as the blood chilled in her veins. She had no idea where she was headed, or what she was headed into. She suddenly saw swords clash and arrows zoom past her. Overwhelmed she didn't notice someone sneak up behind her and smash the hilt of a sword in the back of her head. Little did she know this domino effect would cause a series of events that revealed who she was meant to be from the time of her birth.
She went by one last name, her destiny, fate herself had named her Dovahkiin, "Dragonborn".
She felt her blood run thick and hot in her veins. "B-by the Gods! You just absorbed its soul! You're...Dragonborn!" She had no idea what a Dragonborn was or what had happened to her. All she knew was that she felt a strong power surge from within her very soul, her diaphragm and vocal cords tingled pleasantly as the strange word 'Fus' was looking to escape her lips. The word echoed from her head to her throat and before she could stop herself, she shouted.
Sandrine's hand that held the bow began to slightly shake. She bit her trembling lip as tears escaped her eyes and cascaded down her fair, flushed cheeks; still continuing to hold her position despite her break in composer. She has killed others in cold blood, so why did she hesitate? And for a stupid animal no less! Suddenly, it looked up to observe it's surroundings. It continued to scan the area until its big dark brown eyes eventually landed on the small Nord woman poised upon her feet. Instead of being startled, it continued to stare. Sandrine shivered despite being fully clothed in fur armor. Their eyes locked just for a second as it ever so slightly lowered its head and turned to trot off. Sandrine, closing her eyes and slowing inhaling through her nose, stood up, put away her arrow and bow, and continued forward knowing the entire time she could go after the it. Yet, for some strange reason, didn't.