This was one of the prompts for Fandom February. I had meant to do the others, but as my friend bestowed upon me Dragon Age, I soon became enraptured and lost my inspiration to finish out the month with my Onmund/Dovakhiin fics. But I know there has to be some Onmund fans out there, so I hope you enjoy this fanfic.

The Dovakhiin is left nameless so that you can pretend she's yours. For the most part. My portrayal of the Dovakhiin tends to have magical preferences.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scrolls series.

She was always telling everyone to run. Excluding her, no one alive had ever killed a dragon, and they were the new monsters running rampant through Skyrim. Frostbite Spiders were mere pests compared to the gigantic mass of scale, muscle, and thunderous shouts.

And so, whenever she heard that familiar cry of a dragon circling the mountain just beyond, she on instinct turned and shouted for anyone nearby to run. Because they had no idea what hellfire awaited them if they didn't. No one did.

The dragon at Whiterun had fallen to her lightning hands, though admittedly it had already destroyed the watchtower and its guards, a fact she would carry with her for the rest of her life. The dragon that neared Windhelm fell to her well aimed fireball just as he reared his head back to breathe chaos on the hold. Images of what could have been flashed before her eyes.

Even if it was only a camp of bandits and murderers, she warned them.

"Run!"

The way their eyes widened at the sight of her, at the way her voice hit them, she wondered if perhaps she was Shouting by accident. But they fled, and no harm was done.

Or so she told herself. It was only after the dragon fell and the whirlwind of light and color flew from it to her that she truly acknowledged what happened. She'd killed a dragon, absorbed the soul, business as usual, her destiny in a nutshell.

But as she stood before the sixth skeleton, she couldn't help but think back on how the Khajit caravan scattered at her call. People tended to run when she asked nowadays, but this time they had fled. The bandits nearby hadn't even seen the dragon, but they had run screaming all the same.

She always warned them that a monster was coming.

But who was the monster?

The dragon?

She eyed the collection of bones stacked in her lonely Breezehome, dragon bones she planned to sell once the merchants had made enough coin to pay her for their worth. She glanced over at the rack of weapons, none of them forged by her, or for her, or purchased by her. Weapons she had plucked from cold hands. She saw the cabinet by her alchemy lab, full of Falmer ears and fire salts. Lines of gleaming soul gems filled, ready to be taken up to Dragonsreach for enchanting.

Or was the monster her?

She joined the College of Winterhold, hoping for a change of scenery. The dorm was small, empty of the reminders of all the things she had done so far. No one there knew her, as she had yet to go to Winterhold before.

But she was the Dovakhiin, and it was soon to be made clear. Because discovering ancient, magicka-filled orbs with mysterious runes on them? That was something that only ever seemed to happen to her.

But no one ran from her. Not yet.

A Nord mage, one she recalled innocently remarking that he'd hoped she'd be a Nord - something about being the only one at the college - actually sought her help at one point when she by accident entered his room instead of her own.

An amulet, one from his family. Something she could help with that would not make her a monster.

It had been simple enough. The student who had taken it would not give it back. Unless, of course, she got back something of his. That was a task done easily, though by the way his eyes widened in shock at her return it was not supposed to be.

The Nord mage had been thrilled, though she couldn't quite understand why if his family despised who he was. But she felt warm all the same.

Monsters don't feel warm inside, do they?

"Onmund." That was his name. Onmund had heard that she was supposed to run an errand for the librarian to fetch books that might have information on the mysterious glowing orb she had located. As thanks for getting his amulet, he wanted to help.

And, too stunned for words, she had simply nodded.

The success of that mission led to the success of others, always with him just behind her, lightning or a bow in his grasp. Necromancers and magical anomalies fell before them, and somehow his presence, his constant heartbeat and warm smile and words of "I'm right behind you" and "I've got your back" made her feel like she was supposed to be doing what she was doing. That whatever the mission, it was okay to be following it through.

And then they were sent to the Labrinthian. Onmund hadn't been scared off yet, but the moment she heard the cry of a blood dragon behind a mountain peak, she knew whatever bond they had formed was over. There was a group of hunters behind them. She had ignored them before, but now she could not. Swallowing hard, she whirled. "Run!"

And just like all the others, terror took them, and they did as she commanded.

Summoning fire to her fingertips, she knew she'd be taking this dragon on by herself.

And then the body of the flying beast was crackling with electricity. it gave a shocked shout and flew towards the threat, and the Dragonborn froze. What?

She glanced to her right, where the dragon was headed, and saw Onmund, only a few yards from her. He cast her a grin, lightning in hand, and shot another bolt towards the beast.

Too stunned for words, she simply barraged the dragon with firebolts, and with an inferno sent straight from her hands, he plummeted to the earth. His soul flew to her, and it felt warm.

Warm like when she had retrieved Onmund's amulet. Like when she had helped someone.

"That was amazing! Do you do this all the time?" Onmund asked eagerly, trotting over to her.

She nodded slowly, head turning towards him. "Nine," she murmured.

"What?"

"That… was the ninth dragon I've killed," she admitted.

His eyes lit up in admiration.

"Why…" she continued. "Why didn't you run?"

And just like that the admiration was gone, replaced by confusion. "Huh?"

"I just… everyone always runs."

"You tell them to. There's a dragon. It's safer for them to run then stay and try and fight with you."

"No! I mean… No. I know I tell them to, but… when you look in their eyes… don't you see? They're running from me."

Onmund narrowed his eyes and approached, taking off his hood and crouching slightly to meet her gaze directly. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" she asked frantically, backing up slightly to avoid his bright eyes, that warm expression on his face she couldn't comprehend. "Have you looked at me?"

"Of course I have. I'm always looking at you."

"Then don't you see the blood on my armor, blood that has been spilled on me so many times I can't get rid of it? Don't you see how worn the handle of my axe is? Because I use it- Wait." She froze and looked stiffly up at him. "What… do you mean?"

Onmund swallowed, but met her gaze. "I mean, I'm always looking at you. And I see a woman more courageous than any Nordic hero my family has praised. I see a woman with an unbelievable amount of compassion for Nords who hate her kind and people she'll never know and bandits who do everything she believes is wrong. If people seem scared when they run, it's because they're scared for you. Because it has been a very long time since anyone has been so selfless for strangers. They're scared because when you shout 'run' you shout it because you've done this before and you know what happens if they don't. Do you understand?"

She didn't. Not really. But the way he explained it, she thought she might understand, over time.

"When everyone else is running away… let me run with you," Onmund asked.

She didn't have a reply for him, because the idea sounded amazing. But what if he was hurt? The one person willing to stay by her side and he could be killed because of her.

They returned to the College to fetch more supplies after the dragon attack before entering the Labrinthian. She sat in her dorm that night glaring at the chest. Most things she kept at Breezehome, as usual, because up until that day most things had made her believe she was a monster.

But then, she walked over to the chest and wrenched it open. She'd found the peculiar object on a mission. An amulet. Onmund had one, so she'd wanted one too. But then she'd found out what it was for, and had instead buried it in the otherwise empty wooden drawer.

But the next morning, she slid it around her neck.

"Mara?" Brelyna murmured in surprise as she glanced the gleaming amulet resting against the Dragonborn's chest.

But she paid the elf no mind. She leaned against the archway in front of Onmund's dorm, patiently waiting. He was slow to wake, and she smiled as he groaned and stretched before taking his time standing, breathing in and out.

And then he glanced her out of the corner of his eye, and with a start whirled to face her. He almost cried out her name.

But then he spotted the amulet.

"Is that-?"

"Run with me."

Onmund froze, staring at her as he tried to comprehend. "What?"

She made her way towards him before wrapping her arms around his torso. "Run with me."

A grin made its way onto his face. "Always."

And a kiss sealed the promise.

I have now done my part, contributing to the dismal amount of Onmund/Dovakhiin fanfiction. Reviews, critiques, and comments are much appreciated. Thank you very much for reading!

Sivo