Hello, Skyrim fans! This is my first fanfic, so have patience with my mediocrity lol. I am completely open to your constructive criticism! I'm gonna try to avoid being overly descriptive because I don't wanna take up three paragraphs describing something when you already know what it looks like lol.
This takes place after both the main storyline and the Dawnguard storyline. Also includes Hearthfire DLC.
I don't own anything that may be familiar to you. Bethesda is the genious, not I. =)
At the highest peak of Skyrim is where she spends a good amount of her time, gazing over the cold, harsh land that she calls her home. Even with the unforgivingly freezing weather, Terah finds a certain kind of peace at the Throat of the World. It's so disconnected from the rest of the world, which is exactly what she likes about it so much. Being the dragonborn and whatnot, she got far too much attention for her liking.
But regardless of how many Words of Power she learns, regardless of how long she meditates on the words, and regardless of the fact that it's been almost two years since Alduin's demise, she still finds herself feeling restless.
All she had been doing since her trip to Sovngarde and back was helping people, working for the Companions, sleighing dragons, training with the Greybeards. . . Oh, and stopping a however-many-centuries-old vampire lord from taking control of the sun and shrouding the world in darkness. Besides that, self-improvement has been her driving motive. She thought that bettering herself and gaining strength would fill the hole in her chest, yet here she is today still feeling empty.
It's not like Terah doesn't have any friends. She certainly has many friends in high places all across Skyrim and is one the wealthiest Nords in all nine of the holds, but none of that mattered to her. She had discovered a harsh truth; being the dragonborn was downright lonely.
Terah pulled a letter out of her pocket, reading over the fine writing. It was an invitation from Jarl Ulfric to a feast in honor of the Stormcloak victory at Fort Who-Cares.
Of course he has to have the dragonborn there, she thought. But I guess it wouldn't hurt to get out and socialize a bit.
So Terah stood up, brushed the snow off of her dragonscale armor, and walked over to the dragon perched up on the word wall.
"I'll be off, Paarthurnax. I must head to Windhelm."
"Farewell, Dovahkiin. Remember, push the world harder than it pushes back."
"As if I can forget," she said with a small smile. "Su'um ahrk morah."
Terah despised parties. Dressing up just isn't her thing, and she finds the way most women dress to be quite repulsive. Five women already have nearly flashed everyone in the Palace of Kings as they skipped along and danced to the bards' drums. Not that the men would've minded, of course.
The palace had been rearranged for the occasion. The tables that were normally set up in the center had been pushed to off to the sides of the large room, creating a dance floor for the guests. Some smaller tables were placed towards the corners. There was a heaping amount of fine food that dominated most of the tables, and there were numerous banners hanging about in honor of the Stormcloaks.
Terah continued to drum her fingers on the table in the far right corner of the palace, sitting and observing the ever-so-lovely party guests.
Your breasts go INSIDE your dress, you damn -
"Ah, Dragonborn. I'm glad you made it," said Jarl Ulfric as he approached the table with a smile. She stood up and he took her hand to kiss it. "You look beautiful this evening."
She was wearing a long, hunter-green gown that flowed down her small, sturdy figure. The gown had a heart-shaped top with short sleeves. It did nothing to hide the nasty looking scars that covered most of her body, but it was still modest. She wore an amulet of Talos around her neck (much to Ulfric's liking) and a beautiful gold and emerald circlet on her head. Her long, light cinnamon-blonde hair was curled for the occasion and reached down to her belly botton. She wore dark eyeliner around her eyes, which in combination with the dress made her blue eyes look much greener than usual.
"Of course, wouldn't miss it for the world," She said as she smiled at him, completely ignoring the compliment. Despite the fact that she hated parties and dresses, Terah was never the type to blow people off. Particularly people of high status.
Ulfric moved a little closer to her, gently placing both hands on her shoulders. "Have you considered my offer, Dragonborn?"
"Of course I have. And I haven't changed my mind. I'm not interested in the politics of this war, Jarl Ulfric. I will remain neutral."
He had offered Terah a position as High Queen of Skyrim if she agreed to join his cause. Not only was she determined to remain completely uninvolved in the war, but she also knew it was unwise for the dragonborn to have such a high position. She already had plenty of power, she didn't need political power as well. For one person to hold that much power is foolish, and even a bit frightening. Besides, she knew Ulfric only wanted to marry her just because she was the dragonborn. Terah considered him a friend, and he had always been kind to her, but he often came off as a power-hungry bastard.
"I understand. Howev-"
"No, Ulfric. I'm not sure if your heart is in the right places, and no amount of power will suspend my judgement of that," she said calmly. "Please, do not bother with such troublesome matter. Drink, feast, enjoy yourself! This is a celebration, so let's celebrate."
Luckily, Ulfric took the hint that she didn't want to talk about it and dropped the subject.
Terah found it rather nice to chat with some of the locals since she had not visited Windhelm for a while. She wrapped her furs tighter around her shoulders as she tread along the cold stone on her way to Candlehearth Hall, the night's conversations running through her mind.
Tonight wasn't so bad after all. At least the food was delicious. Just then, she walked right into someone much taller than her, causing her to nearly fall backwards.
"Pardon me, I didn't -"
She froze the moment she saw that the stranger was robed and wearing some kind of mask made of bone. He was accompanied by a woman dressed the same way.
"You," he said harshly. "Are you the one they call 'Dragonborn'?"
"Uhhhh," she started, brows furrowed together in confusion. "Yeah, I'm the dragonborn. Is there a problem?"
The woman then chimed in, voice dripping with disgust, "Then it is already too late! The lie has spread!"
"Whoa, relax. I didn't bestow this title upon myself. If you have a problem with it, take it up with the Greybeards. I wouldn't recommend it, though." she said with a small chuckle, completely unintimidated by these strangers.
"Your lies fall upon deaf ears," said the man. "Kill the false dragonborn!"
The robed pair then pulled out their swords and swung them right at Terah. Taken aback by the sudden outburst of violence, she reacted quickly in defense, for she was unprotected at the moment.
"Feim!"
Just as she became ethereal, both swords went straight through her body and hit the cold stone beneith her feet. It was then that the nearby guards ran over to help and attacked the strangers. Feeling useless, Terah decided to attack with a bone-chilling frostwall at a distance, which seemed to be doing the trick.
"I'll show you dragonborn!" she yelled as she readied herself for another shout. "Fo Kra Diin!"
Just then the robed pair both fell, nearly frozen solid.
"Are you alright, Dovahkiin?" said a female guard with concern, placing a hand on Terah's back.
"Yes, I'm alright. Thank you." Terah glanced down at herself and noticed that her gown had been torn at the bottom from the fight. Well, so much for that.
She approached the bodies and began to inspect them. They appeared to be a part of some kind of cult. Terah inferred that maybe they served some kind of ancient dragon priest or something, since they had called her the "false" dragonborn, but that was just a guess. Finally, she found a note on the man's body. She read it, and reread it again, her mind trying to piece together what was going on.
What in the name of Akatosh? Who is this 'Miraak'?
Terah knew she shouldn't be so foolish as to underestimate the threat. Determined to find answers and rather pissed off that some random cultists just tried to kill her, she stormed off to Candlehearth Hall to get some rest before heading to the docks first thing in the morning.
"What do you mean you have no idea how you got here?" she asked incredulously. "I'm assuming you got here via your boat. That's usually how you travel across water, you know."
"You can cut the sarcasm. I honestly don't know. All I know is that those people with the masks came up to me and then. . . I was here, in Windhelm. Something isn't right about that island," said Captain Gjalund as he was fixing some ropes on the boat, obviously still shaken up about his encounter with the cultists. "I am not going back."
Terah was starting to get annoyed. He's going to need some convincing.
Getting in his face with her voice a low growl, "Listen, someone from Solstheim wants me dead because of the mere fact that I am the dragonborn. And if there really is something off about that island then this is serious. Very serious. So you take me there today or believe me, I will cut off your bal-"
"Okay, okay!" he said, putting his hands up in defense. "I'll take you. But I don't like this one bit."
This was just an intro chapter to set the scene. I know the original in-game dialogue is better than the crap I write, but I really don't wanna make you read a bunch of stuff you've already seen/heard. I'll still be writing familiar scenes, but I'll just be writing them differently. Feedback is highly appreciated! Next chapter we get to meet our favorite Dunmer mercenary ;)