Dovahkiin Fahliil (Elven Dragonborn)

Part 1

Chapter 1: An Escaped Prisoner

Synopsis:

Lina is an Altmer Warrior Mage and a traitor in the eyes of the Thalmor. After evading them for three years, she is finally caught and sent to Helgen to be executed, but her death sentence is interrupted by the return of the dragons, and more specifically, the World Eater himself. Lina escapes Helgen alive, only be dragged into new dangers and to discover a great secret: She is Dovahkiin and the only one with the power to stop Alduin from causing Nirn's destruction.

Her journey takes place over the course of several years, consisting of a battle against Alduin, Lina's reluctant decision to fight in the Civil War, and learning about a strange connection between her and the World Eater allowing them to see each other in dreams, while at the same time, trying to master her newly discovered powers.

The fanfiction itself is divided into four parts:

Part 1:

Lina travels throughout Skyrim searching for Words of Power and ways to get stronger while learning what it means to be Dovahkiin and prepare for the inevitable battle with Alduin. But at the same time, she starts experiencing reoccurring dreams about the World Eater after the events of Helgen. Then to make things worse, there is increasing turmoil in the Guilds Lina is a member of: the College of Winterhold and the Companions.

Part 1 is heavily based on the Main Quest and the Guild Quests.

...

Disclaimer:

I do not own the Elder Scrolls franchise, Skyrim, or any of its characters. The only character I own is Lina

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A/N: I submitted the same chapter to my Deviantart account already, So I guess I'll submit it here to and see how it goes. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but I'm not forcing anyone to review.

I ran through the woods with the intentions of finding my way to Whiterun, my home. The steel armor I wore felt heavy and slowed me significantly. It was nothing like the armor made by my people: the High Elves of the Aldmeri Dominion, not that I could claim to own such armor, but it was beautifully crafted and significantly lighter than this set. Unfortunately, this was the only armor I could find during the chaos of the dragon attack.

I was supposed to be executed at Helgen when the dragon showed up. He came out of nowhere and called down a storm of meteors. While the meteors crashed into buildings, the dragon circled over Helgen, unleashing his fire breath on anything that moved. Imperial soldiers and Stormcloak prisoners alike were killed and I barely escaped with my life. In fact, the only reason I survived is because of a Stormcloak named Ralof.

In the chaos, he was the only person who stopped fleeing long enough to unbind my wrists and pull me towards a tower. At his suggestion, we stayed hidden in the tower until the dragon left. I hated running from a fight, but my swords were taken from me and I didn't even have armor when I was arrested. And I doubted even my Destruction spells would be enough to kill a dragon.

Ralof crouched near a window and watched the dragon destroy everything, but I was more curious about him. He was a Stormcloak and I was an Altmer. Nords had a general disliking for my kind, but Stormcloaks were devoted to driving us out of Skyrim. So why was he helping me? Why didn't he just leave me to my own devices or let the dragon kill me? That is what I would have expected a Stormcloak to do.

Ralof turned away from the window and faced me. "The dragon is still here. We might be stuck in this tower for a while."

"I understand," I said, "But why are you even helping me?"

"What do you mean?" Ralof asked.

"I thought the Stormcloaks despised Altmer," I said, "So why would you want to keep me alive?"

"Because I know that the Thalmor are the ones who wanted you executed," Ralof said, "They don't normally execute their own kind, so you must've betrayed them or something."

"You could say that," I said.

"So rescuing a traitor seems like an effective way to spite the Thalmor," Ralof said.

So this wasn't an act of compassion. It was an act of spite. I could not say I was surprised, but at the same time, I couldn't complain. Because of Ralof, I was alive. And I was not opposed to doing things to anger the Thalmor, especially since it was their fault I was at Helgen to begin with.

As the city was slowly destroyed, surviving Imperial soldiers ran into the tower and completely disregarded Ralof and me. Either they didn't see us or they just didn't care, but their reason didn't matter to me. Because of it, I was able to go through some chests and find a set of steel armor. It was made for a human woman, but wasn't too ill-fitting. The problem was that I was used to wearing light armor or no armor at all and steel armor was a type of heavy armor. Even now that I had been walking in this armor for a while, I still wasn't used to the weight.

I continued to run until I grew tired and had to slow to a walk, but I continued trekking through the forest until after sundown. I didn't want to stop since Whiterun was quite far from here and it would take me several days to arrive on foot. But now I was too tired to continue. My feet felt like lead and I could no longer tolerate how heavy the armor was. So I made camp when I came to a small clearing.

I immediately removed my armor, relieved that its weight was gone. All I had on under it were the rags the Imperials gave me when I was arrested, which would make it obvious that I was an escaped criminal if anyone saw me. I would have to acquire more suitable clothing as soon as possible. But for now, I just wanted to lay here and sleep.

"We should execute the Elf first. One less from the Aldmeri Dominion, right?"

"No. One of the Stormcloaks must go first."

"Then the Elf?"

"Aye."

Foolish guards. Apparently they had already forgotten that the Thalmor were the ones who wanted me on the chopping block. And for treason. Killing me would only benefit the Aldmeri Dominion.

…

The cart arrived at Helgen where I was to be executed with the other prisoners. As the guards planned, one of the Stormcloaks was sent to the chopping block first. I looked away when the axe came down, but I made the mistake of looking again before the decapitated body could be moved.

"Next is…the High Elf."

They meant me. They had to, especially since one of the Imperials grabbed my binded wrists and dragged me to the chopping block. But the Imperials found that I was not willing to accept my death so easily when they had to force me to my knees and press my head against the chopping block.

I glared at the soldiers as they released their grips on me.

"May your souls be lost in the plains of Oblivion!" I snarled in Elvish.

My words were ignored and not just because I had used my native tongue instead of the common one. The Imperials ordered the executioner to kill me and the axe was raised. I waited for it to come down…

But the deathblow never came.

…

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

I did not recognize the voice or the language spoken, but a storm of meteors was unleashed on Helgen and a deadly fire soon followed, burning several Imperials. Then the dragon came.

…

"Get to the tower!"

Ralof pulled me to my feet and we ran to the tower, dodging meteors in the process. There we were safe from the dragon's wrath and I was able to make my escape. But I felt as if the dragon had been watching me before I disappeared from sight.

…

Alduin.

That's what Ralof called the dragon.

Alduin the World Eater

I jolted awake after that.

The early morning sun shone through the trees and I groggily sat up. I would've loved to sleep longer, but I knew that I had to move. And after having visions of Helgen, I didn't know if I wanted to fall asleep again.

I reached for my armor and a pouch that had been strapped to the belt. Before I took off, Ralof handed me a map of Skyrim that he managed to swipe from one of the Imperial soldiers during the chaos. I needed to figure out what the closest village was for the sake of acquiring food and provisions.

I unrolled the map and found that the closest village was Riverwood, which should be less than a full day's journey from here. And it was in the same direction as Whiterun, which would make Riverwood an even more ideal location to stop at and purchase the supplies I desired. The only problem was that I didn't have any money. The Imperials took my septims when they took my swords and I had no intention of stealing supplies. I was not a thief, even if I was decent at picking locks. But I decided to worry about money after I arrived in the village.

I folded the map and put it away and then put on my armor, groaning from the weight. I got up and started walking to Riverwood. Unsurprisingly, I started to feel the effects of hunger and thirst. The last time I had anything to eat or drink was the morning of the execution and even then I was only given meager rations. I looked around for a stream or any plants that might be edible. No such luck.

As I travelled towards the village, my armor seemed to double in weight and I was starting to feel weak from the lack of food and water. By the time Riverwood was even visible, it was late afternoon and I was ready to collapse, so I decided to rest for a few minutes before continuing to the village. Besides, I finally located a river and my throat was burning from thirst.

I knelt beside the river and scooped up a few handfuls of water to drink. But as I was about to stand again, I heard the sound of armored feet approaching. Bandits most likely. The footsteps ceased only a short distance from where I was and were followed by an unfamiliar voice.

"You lost, Elf?"

I turned around and found myself face-to-face with a muscular Nord wearing iron armor and unsheathing a massive sword that had been mounted on his back. Half of his face was covered by a helmet, but there was no mistake that he was a bandit. Especially since five men and women wearing similar armor came out into the open. All of them drew their weapons and came closer to me.

I slowly got up, wishing that I took a sword before I left Helgen, even though I probably wouldn't be able to do much with it in my current state. I was tired and in no condition to fight. I would have to defeat them using magic alone. Hopefully that wouldn't be too hard for me. After all, I specialized in the School of Destruction and more specifically, pyromancy.

"You should leave now," I said, trying to stay calm.

"Sorry lass, but I'm afraid we can't," the bandit said.

"And why is that?" I asked as I called upon my magicka.

"Because we need the money," the bandit said, "And a source of amusement."

"Then search elsewhere!" I snarled, not liking what he implied.

"Wrong answer," the bandit said, smirking.

He then charged at me, swinging his massive sword. I quickly stepped to the side to avoid the sword, but they bandit swung at me again and I was barely able to get out of the way in time. He swung the sword a few more times and I took several steps backwards, barely avoiding the blade each time. I wanted my own sword even more now. I might have been too tired to fight with a sword, but at least I wouldn't be so desperate to avoid his blade. And for that reason, it was time to end this.

Fire shot from my hands as I cast a flame spell at the bandit. The fire burned him and must have made his armor unbearably hot. He cried out in agony and dropped his sword. I watched the bandit try to get to the river, but he collapsed before he could get in. After that, the flames slowly started to go out, but the bandit was already dead.

The other bandits only glanced at their fallen leader before they decided to charge. I quickly turned my attention to them and cast a Wall of Fire spell. Fire burned the grass they were standing on and the bandits quickly caught on fire as well. They tried to get past the flames but only received more burns in the process. Eventually, they died the same way as the first bandit: being burned to death.

I was about to walk away from the bandit corpses, but an arrow was shot out of the bushes and sent in my direction. I couldn't dodge it in time and it ended up knocking me back and lodging itself in the pauldron covering my left shoulder. For the first time since I put on this armor, I was grateful that I had it.

A few more arrows came in my direction and I immediately ran for cover. By the time I got behind a large boulder, two more arrows were stuck in my armor and another had barely missed me. I've always hated dealing with archers. My own combat style was based on melee fighting (and setting things on fire). It was even worse when the archer in question was concealed by tall plants like this one was. I could probably hit the archer with a fireball from here, but I would have to force them to come into the open in order to kill them.

I conjured a ball of fire and aimed it in the archer's general direction, creating a fiery explosion. The archer (who I could now identify as female) jumped out of her hiding place and into the open to avoid getting burned. But now she was an easy target for me. The archer had fallen to her knees and dropped her bow in her attempt to dodge the fire. While it didn't take long for her to grab her bow and stand, I had enough time to conjure a second fireball and send it in her direction before she could draw an arrow.

The archer was killed in the fiery explosion.

I cautiously walked past her charred body and scanned the area for more bandits. There were none, but it occurred to me that this party might have a camp nearby. And if I could find that camp, I would likely find food and septims as well, along with a sword. So I walked in the direction I was certain the bandits came from, searching for a potential campsite.

Said campsite was in a small clearing that was just a short distance from the river. There were a couple of tents and bedrolls, but the camp was vacant. Most likely, the bandits who attacked me were the only members of their party or if there were more bandits, they were gone. For that reason, I decided to try to search the place quickly.

I went directly to a small table with a coin purse and a few healing potions sitting on top of it. I reached for the coin purse first and counted the septims, with totaled to 140. More than enough to get a room at Riverwood's tavern, but probably not enough to buy new clothes or lighter armor. There were probably a few more coin purses laying around, so I placed the one I held and the potions in the pouch containing my map and continued to search the camp for anything useful.

By the time I left the bandits' campsite, I had acquired a few additional coin purses (bringing my total to about 370 septims), a steel sword, a dagger, and a couple lockpicks. And I managed to find a few apples, which I had quickly eaten. The sword had to be my greatest prize though. While a steel sword was nowhere near as impressive as the ebony swords I preferred, I was grateful to have such a weapon since I would not have to rely entirely on magicka if I was attacked again.

Convinced that I had taken everything that might be of use, I once again started towards Riverwood. My armor still felt uncomfortably heavy, but I forced myself to ignore the discomfort. I was even closer to the village and soon I would be able to remove the armor and rest.

I arrived in Riverwood maybe an hour before sunset and I went directly to the tavern.

Said tavern was known as the Sleeping Giant Inn and when I walked inside, I received some weird looks. But I cannot say I was surprised. After all, I was a mess. My black hair was tangled and all over the place and I had a few scratches and burns from Helgen that I didn't bother healing. In addition, Altmer don't normally come to taverns like this and when they do, it's usually because they are with a Thalmor patrol. Most of the residents were Nords and Bretons. Not a single Elf could be seen…aside from me of course.

As I walked to the counter, I could hear the residents talking in low voices, almost certainly about me. I could only pick up pieces of the conversations, but what I heard was enough to confirm my suspicions.

"What do you think happened to her? Bandit attack?"

"Most likely. Though it could have been a wolf pack."

"What is an Altmer woman doing in Riverwood anyways?"

"Who knows? Maybe she's with the Thalmor?"

"Wouldn't she be wearing their robes then?"

"Not if she's a spy."

I tried to block out their conversations after that. I could not believe those Nords would assume I was with the Thalmor just because I'm an Altmer. As if I would ever serve those bastards.

Anyways, I reached the counter and the bartender—a Nord with shoulder-length black hair—turned in my direction. "Need something?" he asked.

"I would like a room for tonight," I said, dropping the standard amount of septims on the counter.

The bartender collected my septims. "Anything else?" he asked.

"I change of clothes would be nice," I said, "Along with some bread and water."

The bartender handed me a room key. "First door on your left," he said, "There are some spare clothes in the dresser that you can take and I'll provide you with food after you settle into the room."

"Thank you," I said before walking to the specified room.

I unlocked the door and quickly went into the room. Said room was relatively small with a bed in the corner and a dresser next to it. Inside the dresser, there were a couple of folded dresses. I would prefer to wear trousers, but I was just desperate to remove my heavy armor and the filthy prisoner rags underneath it. So I selected a blue dress and gratefully swapped my armor and rags with it.

For the most part, the dress fit me well. It was relatively comfortable (or as comfortable as a dress can be to someone unaccustomed to wearing one) and easy to move in. The only problem was that it was too short and almost certainly made for a Nord, not an Altmer. But I had always been short by Altmer standards (I was just a few inches taller than the average male Nord), so the length of the dress did not bother me too much.

After I was dressed, I checked the bottom drawer and found a set of boots that fit me. Then I turned to the bed where I left my armor and prisoner rags. I badly wanted to burn the rags, but smoke in a tavern room would just seem suspicious. I decided to wait until tomorrow to burn the rags. For now, I just hid them in a bag I took from the bandit camp.

Satisfied, I strapped the steel sword around my waist and left the room to go eat. But on my way to the counter, I bumped into a Breton woman. She eyed me suspiciously for a second before saying, "Haven't seen too many Altmer around here, other than the Thalmor patrols. You're not one of them, are you?"

"Of course not," I said, scowling.

"So what are you doing in Riverwood?" the Breton asked.

"Just passing through," I said casually, "I live in Whiterun, but it's too far to make the journey in a day."

"I see," the Breton said, but she looked unsatisfied with my answer. It was almost as if she knew I was hiding something (or maybe she was still convinced that I might be one of the Thalmor). Fortunately, she did not question me and instead walked away.

Once she was gone, I approached the bartender, who had already prepared the food I asked for. He handed me a plate and a tankard filled with water. I thanked him and took my food to an empty table. I sat so my back was facing the wall and kept my gaze down to avoid looking at the other residents, but I was almost certain that at least a few were staring at me. I might have looked more presentable now, but an Altmer in a room primarily occupied by Nords and Bretons still stands out.

I silently ate and focused on blocking out conversations that I kept overhearing, especially ones about me. But after a while, I started to feel like I was being watched. I looked up and, to my surprise, none of the residents were looking in my direction and neither was the bartender. Then I saw someone shift from the corner of my eye. I turned in that direction and saw the Breton woman standing in a doorframe and staring at me. Her gaze was hard and she looked like she was studying me. I don't know why, but something about her expression told me that there was something about me that she knew and I didn't.