Author's Note: I know, I know. Tiny, boring, maybe confusing chapter. I apologize in advance, but I had no idea how to start this. This was all I could come up with. I promise it will get better later on, but I'll only continue it if there's a demand. Please comment, critique, and like please. Also correct me on any lore I'm getting wrong. I'm going off of in-game experiences, wikis, and other stories. I'm trying to stay lore-friendly though. You can find pictures of the two main characters (Fjotra and Khorbuck) in my profile.

I hesitated in front of the small shack's door. I only took a moment to find the design etched into the wood on the left wall, a shadowmark left by the Guild. Vex wasn't lying to me, than. The scratched in square surrounded by a circle meant their was some good loot inside. It was to be expected, though, I was in front of the Dragonborn's house. With a sigh, I crouched down. I briefly glanced to the side a few times, though I doubted anyone was out here. Markarth tended to be dull this close to the walls. When I was sure it was safe, I quietly slid open the door.

I breathed a sigh of relief. The first room was empty. It also appeared to be a kitchen. Right across from me was a large fireplace with a cooking spit and a few pots. Lining the spaces on the wall on either side of the fire were shelves stocked with various ingredients. I continued on a bit further, seeing nothing of any value in this first room. The door to my right opened into what was probably a bedroom. A large, full-sized bed dominated the small room. Two end tables stood on either side of it, one topped with a small stack of books. I moved quietly over towards the end table, rifling through the books. Nothing of value. I then rummaged through the drawers of the end tables, only coming up with 21 gold and 5 lockpicks. I sighed. Seemed Vex and the Guild had lied.

The only other thing of interest in the bedroom was an elven dagger. I tucked it into my pack and continued through the door on the same wall as the bed.

This was the room I'd been looking for. The first thing my eyes rested upon was a solid gold Statue of Dibella. A few mannequins stood in the center of the room, one holding a full set of Wolf Armor, another with a full set of Iron Armor, and the last wearing Leather. I continued on past the mannequins, my greed driving me toward the bowl of jewels he had sitting beside one of the Stones of Barenziah. Just as my fingers wrapped around it, I heard a low voice behind me.

"What are you doing?"

I turned around slowly, fearfully facing the orc. He had light green skin, with a darker green tribal marking around one eye, and pale blue eyes. He had a full set of dark brown hair, the top portion pulled back into a ponytail. He definitely looked fearsome, considering he was an Orsimer, and dressed in steel plate armor.

"What are you doing?" he bellowed again, making me flinch. I wasn't about to let him see I was scared, though. I rose to my full height – coming only to his chest – and glared up at him.

"What does it look like? And who are you?" I asked in response.

"This is my house. I should be asking you that." the Orc growled.

"I'm Fjotra." I answered smoothly, narrowing my eyes at him. "This is the home of the Dragonborn, Orc. What are you doing in it?"

Suddenly, the Orsimer began laughing. It started as a slow chuckle, but soon he was doubled over roaring in mirth.

"What is so damned funny?" I hissed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'm the dragonborn, Nord." he said as he sobered.

"Y-you're the dragonborn? An orc?" I asked, hardly comprehending. I thought the Dragonborn would be a valiant Nord, not some slobbering beast.

"Yes. I'm both Orsimer and Dovahkiin. Now, back to the issue at hand. What are you doing in my house?"

I froze. I had no idea how to enter. This was the real deal. The Dragonborn. The holder of the fabled Thu'um. He could rip me apart with a simple word.

"I-I was just looking for the Dragonborn. I..." I trailed off for a moment, my brain going a mile-a-minute to devise a plan. "I need help! With a tomb. I was hoping to buy the aid of the Dragonborn. I'm sure any tomb or dungeon is passable with the aid of the Thu'um."

The Orc's eyes narrowed at me. "I hardly believe a word you just said, but the promise of a dungeon is quite appealing. I also don't like involving myself with the city guards. Just don't expect the Thu'um at your side. All you'll be buying is an Orc."

"Wait, why? You do know the Thu'um, correct?"

"Yes, but I wish not to yield it. I never asked to be your fabled Dragonborn. I never even wished to come to Skyrim for that matter." the Orc growled.

"Then why are you here?" I asked coldly. This was not what I pictured the Dragonborn to be like.

"I used to live in Cyrodil, in a stronghold. Mine was burnt down, all of my family slaughtered. There was a group of bandits – a guild, really – that went around slaying Orsimers. All Nords. They were called the 'No-Orismers' or 'Norsimers'. I had nowhere to go but North, to Skyrim." he grumbled coldly.

"I-I'm sorry." I said softly, not sure what else to do.

"Don't pity me on behalf of your kind, Nord. What's done is done." he snapped, folding his arms over his broad chest.

"Why don't you wish to be Dragonborn, though? There is surely no higher honor." I said, wishing I myself were the Dovahkiin.

"It's not something I want. I do not wish to save Skyrim from dragons, nor do I wish to use Shouts. I'm an Orc, I was raised in a stronghold all my life. I know nothing but a blade in my hand or an arrow in my quiver. I am a warrior, a blacksmith, and hunter, but not a hero. So you may now choose, hire an orc or leave my home and be sure not to show your face around me again."

I sighed. I hadn't even meant to ask the Dragonborn for help, but then the prospect of the Thu'um at my side sounded great. Now I was stuck with a simple orc. Although, I really did need help clearing out the dungeon. Draugrs gave me the creeps, as did skeletons, not to mention my "minor" case of arachnophobia.

"How much do you want?" I asked, pulling out my coin purse.

"Considering your line of work is fairly profitable, 1000 septims."

I nodded and pulled out the gold. I roughly pushed it into his large hand, trying vainly to avoid touching the meaty green paw. He glared at me.

"Should I come get you in the morning?" I asked, sure the Orc wouldn't be up until long after the sun rose.

"Sure. Be prepared. If you don't dally in magick, bring potions. I also expect you to be ready for toe-to-toe combat. Your sneaking won't get you far."

"I'm perfectly capable at dual wielding, along with archery." I said pridefully.

"Just leave. You tire me." the Orsimer muttered, rubbing a hand along his face.

"Wait, what's your name? I believe it's time we get past using each other's race."

"Khorbuck gro-Burkul." he grunted.

"See you tomorrow, than, Khorbuck gr..." I trailed off as I stumbled over attempts at his name.

"Just Khorbuck." he said, waving a hand dismissively.

I left his house with a happy heart. The idiot had never thought to check my pack, where his small Dibella statue and amulet resided. The fool.