Well, it had been far longer for me to update this story than I had planned. Things got in the way and frankly, for some time, I forgot about the second chapter I had already written. But after getting over my disappointment of the weak seventh season, I have come back to continue some of my stories.

So here we have a Dragonborn in Westeros, because of one of Sanguine's asinine games. To clear this up, the Dragonborn has replaced Argella, so the only child of the last Stormking is in fact quite different from what she used to be.

As for the timeline, the events of this story happen after the civil war and the fight against Alduin in Skyrim. So Argella is quite powerful and has Odahviing as a backup if needed. But as always when Daedra are involved, Sanguine has not just sent her to a world where she would overpower everyone, there is a greater scheme involved...

Argilac Durrandon, King of the Stormlands and by his own estimation the greatest warlord on the continent, was by no means an idle man. Conflict after conflict kept him busy and his sword arm well trained. There had never been much peace in his life, ever since the crown had landed on his head when he had still been far too young.

Though he reveled in the thrill of the battle, there were also many occasions when he felt regret for his near constant absence from his own home. Even now he was on his way back to Storm's End, after little over a year fighting a war against the Reach in the never ending struggle for the contested regions around the Red Mountains. It was a resounding victory, of course, even ending with the death of his rival, King Garse Gardner. But it would hardly be the end to the conflicts.

As his castle, Storm's End finally came into view, he allowed himself a relieved smile. The legendary castle that his ancestor had built in defiance of the gods themselves, it was sight he would never tire of seeing. A sight he had seen far too little of in recent years.

And it was also the place where his greatest regret kept waiting for him to return. His daughter. The child he had first seen when she had been two years old, because of a conflict with the Ironborn to the north. The child whose mother had died in his absence, when he had been busy waging war. The child that for some inexplicable reason still loved him as only a daughter can love her father. The child he had never been able to love because he had always craved a son, not a weak daughter.

"Nothing ever changes, as it seems," Ser Raymont Penrose, Argilac's closest friend and brother in arms said, as they both rode towards the gates of the castle. "Never changing Storm's End."

Argilac chuckled as he understood the deeper meaning behind the otherwise unremarkable comment of his friend. No matter how often they would leave, upon their return, everything would be the same. It was both comforting and maddening.

Yet something was amiss this time. Of course, there were all the guards, courtiers, and servants lined up in an orderly fashion to welcome their king home. They always did this when he returns. But there was one person missing. His daughter.

"Welcome home, your grace. All of us had been overjoyed when we heard of your most recent victory against the Gardeners," Endrew Tarth, the youngest brother of Lord Edwyn Tarth and castellan of Storm's End greeted his king.

"Say, Endrew, you wouldn't know where our fair princess has ended up?" Raymont asked when the king looked around once more.

The castellan seemed worried all of a sudden, something that did not go unnoticed by King Argilac, whose temper rose ever so slightly because of this. Though the man had little love for the girl, she was still his only heir. No matter how hard he had tried, no matter who he had tried with, for some dastardly reason the Seven had only granted him, one child.

"Where is my daughter, Tarth?" the king demanded to know.

The man looked decidedly uncomfortable all of a sudden, as he began sweating and stammering. "She… she is… gone."

"Gone?" Argilac demanded to know.

"Please forgive me, your grace, but Princess Argella has left the castle about a day ago and has yet to return."

The king could hardly believe it. His complacent daughter, leaving the castle just like that? Highly unusual.

"Then what are you and your men doing here?" Argical raged, "Find her!"

Endrew nearly fell over his own legs, as he quickly turned and ran towards the stables. Their king's rage was well known and only surpassed by his obsessive pride, so none of them had any doubts that whatever punishment Argilac would come up with would be very… life changing.

"Go with him, Raymont. Take our scouts and the fastest riders and find my daughter. I doubt that someone like Argella could have gotten very far."

"Of course," the lord replied, quick to agree with his friend and liege. "But what if..."

What if the princess is dead… Argilac didn't even want to think about that. Countless wounds had left him hard pressed to make another heir to his line, so if Argella's foolishness had resulted in her end… House Durrandon would end with her. And he would only hate her more for that.

Ignorant of the events happening at Storm's End, Argella Durrandon was already at the other end of the Stormlands. High up in the sky, on the back of her rather unwilling companion Odahviing. She hadn't been sure whether it was surprising or not that of all her spells and shouts, the one to call the dragon to her side had worked best.

Odahviing, as usual, had been grumpy and foul mouthed about being dragged to another world by her, but his sense of honor and obligation forced him to answer her call and aid her to the best of his abilities. And for the first time ever, Argella had actually been happy to have the grumpy lizard near. He was, at the very least, a small part of home in a foreign land.

"This land is massive but quite different from our home in Skyrim," she told her companion, as they soared over the treetops of a gigantic forest.

For more than a day they had traveled away from the castle where she had woken up, and by now she was convinced that they could travel a hundred days more and not find an end to this place, this Westeros, as the scholar at the keep had called it. As far as she understood their maps, they hadn't even reached the end of King Argilac's realm.

It was another thing that Argella had trouble coping with. The fact that Sanguine had somehow managed to turn her into a princess. Her! Of all the people in Skyrim. Queen Elisif would be mortified by the mere idea that her unruly Thane was supposed to be a queen herself in the future. And General Tullius would rightfully fear that every realm she would touch would crumble in a heartbeat. There was a reason why she had never sought more power than what others had willingly given her. After her role in ending the Stormcloak rebellion, she could have ascended into the ranks of nobility in Skyrim. Even the Emperor himself would have welcomed her as a friend, had she desired to return home to the Imperial City. But she wasn't meant for any of that.

"This world is dead and empty, Dohvakiin," Odahviing replied, his voice a deep rumbled that she could feel through her entire body. It made riding on the dragon without a saddle even less comfortable than it already was.

"I don't see your point. There are people everywhere. Maybe not the major settlements we have seen at home, but small towns and hamlets everywhere," she replied, confused and irritated. "This is anything but dead."

"The magic here is… gone. There are weak traces of it, but otherwise there is nothing here," the dragon elaborated, "A world without magic is dead or at the very least dying. This peace shall not last."

That was certainly disconcerting. Sanguine had sent her here for a reason. Twisted as the minds of the Daedra are, she couldn't be sure what exactly he expected her to do. But to send her to a world without magic… Her, a battlemage of the imperial army. What dastardly plan must that Daedra prince have hatched…

Her gaze wandered over the land once more. The lush green forest seemed so vibrant and alive. She could barely believe that it was entirely without magic. But wait, hadn't Odahviing said that he can feel magic somewhere in the distance?

"The magic you feel, can you take us to it?" she asked.

The dragon roared in reply before he suddenly changed his course. The sudden movement was so abrupt, that she nearly fell off his back. Only barely she managed to cling to one of the spikes on Odahviing's back. The dragon even increased the speed immensely, much to Argella's discomfort. It was getting cold and her eyes hurt from the constant wind whipping against them. Not even Odahviing's warm scales were enough to keep her fingers from getting numb. But no matter how much she yelled for the dragon to slow down again.

Only when the green forest below them gave way to the rocky landscape of the coastline, Odahviing slowed down once more. Argella wanted to yell and rage, to get the dragon to understand just how close she had come to fall off because of his antics, but as she saw the tumultuous see in front of them, her awe kept her mind occupied.

"The source of magic isn't far, Dovahkiin," Odahviing roared. "It's getting closer to us as we speak."

Is it getting closer? This could only mean that the source was some living being. A creature most likely, or a lone mage on a ship. But she couldn't see any ships. No, it had to be a creature.

They continued on their way across the water, leaving the land behind them. But the as they left one coast, the other coast, on the opposite side of the large bay got closer. Argella tried to remember the maps she had studied before leaving, but the names of the places she had seen refused her call. But she knew that on their way they would sooner or later happen upon a group of islands. Islands the scholar at Storm's End had warned her about. He had only said that it was dangerous and that she shouldn't ask about that place, but he did sound worried.

"It's close," Odahviing exclaimed. "It's… below us!"

Argella yelped and held on to Odahviing's back for dear life, as the dragon suddenly changed his course and tried soar higher into the sky. And just as she felt at least a little bit safer on the dragon's back, an earth shattering roar tore through the sky and a gigantic beast emerged from the water. Another dragon, with scales as black as the night and a wingspan that made Odahviing look like a whelp in comparison.

"Is that… Alduin?" she wondered loudly. "But how? I killed him!"

"No, Dovahkiin, that is not one of my brethren. That one is wild and uncivilized, a true beast. We need to escape, quickly!"

Odahviing was right, of course. This dragon, though just as dark and fear inducing as Alduin had been when she first met him, was far bigger than her vanquished foe. Whatever or whoever this dragon was, he was truly frightening.

But as they tried to flee, their path was blocked by yet another dragon. Another beast with silvery scales and golden eyes. But unlike the black monstrosity, this one was only slightly bigger than Odahviing and much to her surprise, this one had a rider of its own. Just how distracted had they been to miss the presence of not one but two other dragons? Her mind must have wandered too far as she allowed Odahviing to fly where he pleased...

On the back of the silver dragon sat a beautiful woman with silver-blond hair flowing freely in the wind.

They were too far up for words to reach each other, so the other woman gestured towards the coastline. Argella nodded, understanding what was meant. The woman wants to talk, something that Argella was all too willing to do. Especially if that woman had any connection to the black monster she had seen before.

Both dragons quickly flew towards the coastline, where they landed atop the cliffs and allowed their riders to dismount. But as Argella was about to jump off Odahviing's back, the dragon growled at her.

"Careful, Dovahkiin. I sense a strange presence in that woman and her dragon. Do not trust their words, no matter how honeyed they may be."

"I will be cautious," she replied, as she patted the scales on Odahviing's neck in an effort to calm her companion. And she smirked, as she realized that this had been the first time the old lizard had shown genuine concern for her. Maybe there was hope for them after all.

Soon enough Argella stood face to face with the silver-haired woman. Violet eyes, a color she had only ever seen on Elves, stared unyieldingly into her own blue orbs. A silent battle of wills ensued, as either woman judged the other at first glance.

"I never expected to see another dragon-rider this side of the Narrow Sea," the woman began. "A strange surprise, one I'm not so sure whether I like or not."

Argella snorted derisively at that. "Can't say I expected to see someone like you either. Or that black monster. Is he another one of yours?"

"Perhaps," the woman replied enigmatically, an impish smirk on her lips. "But let's start with a proper introduction first. I am Rhaenys Targaryen, daughter of House Targaryen, the last Dragonlords of Valyria."

Targaryen… Argella had read that name before. A letter the castellan had forgotten in the scholar's study. Apparently, her father had some dealings with some Targaryen lord. Aeron… no. Avion, Agor… no. Aegon, yes, that was the name. But for the rest, Argella had no idea whether dragonlords are some sort of warrior guild with dragons or what Valyria was supposed to be. There were still far too many blank spots in her knowledge about this land and its history. The memories of the previous Argella, whose place she had taken, yielded little useful information on that matter.

"And you are? It is only considered polite to answer with your own introduction," Rhaenys grumbled when Argella failed to answer.

"Alessia," she said. She felt that it would be a bad idea to reveal her other name in this world or her relation to the Storm King Argilac. So she opted for her true name, the one she had been given by her poor parents back in Cyrodiil.

"Just Alessia? No grand noble family attached to that?" Rhaenys asked curiously, "Your clothing and weapons betray you." She clearly didn't believe a single word Argella had said.

"Just Alessia. Born and raised among the poorest of the Waterfront. All you see here has been given to me in return for my services," she replied.

"A sellsword then. How wonderful. A sellsword with a dragon. My brother will be thrilled to hear this," Rhaenys muttered, a faux jovial expression on her face. It was obvious that she anything but happy about this. "Maybe it would be better for you to come with me then, Alessia. Us Dragonriders have to stick together, you know. There aren't that many left after the Doom and all."

"I'm sorry, but I prefer to work alone. Less of a hassle and I really don't need anyone to carry my burdens," Argella replied with a taunting smirk of her own.

They remained silent for some long moments, only staring at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Argella wasn't sure how this would end, but when Rhaenys' hand itched for her sword, she knew that a battle was unavoidable.

Both drew their swords, as the dragons roared, ready to join the fight. Argella's grip on her sword tightened, as got ready for the fight. Mentally she went through all the spells she knew, to decide which would be best suited in this fight. She wasn't sure what the silver dragon could do and the woman could potentially be a mage as well.

"Let's make this quick," Rhaenys proposed, "Just you and me. No need to get our dragons hurt unnecessarily."

Odahviing growled, clearly insulted by the insinuation that the other dragon could do any sort of lasting damage to him. Argella was surprised that he had kept his mouth shut for so long, not uttering a single word since they had come face to face with the other Dragonrider. He had been a lot more chatty in her presence.

"Fine by me," Argella replied.

A smirk spread on Rhaenys' lips, as she charged. She was fast and nimble, fighting with a dance like style that once more reminded Argella of the Elves. Maybe this woman was a half-blood or at the very least had some not so distant elven ancestors. It was rare but entirely unheard of.

Argella returned each blow with the heavy handed style of a trained Imperial soldier. Sturdy defense, heavy offense. A more sluggish style of fighting, usually supplemented by the use of magic. Rhaenys' would sooner tire than break through. Unless she had some nifty magic tricks upon her sleeve.

But any belief that this woman might have any sort of magic was quickly forgotten. There was no magic in the fight, not until Argella cast a Ward to block one of Rhaenys' strikes. The look of shock and astonishment on her opponent's face told Argella all she needed to know. Rhaenys had never cast a single spell in her life, nor had she seen anyone do it either. An advantage she would clearly make good use of.

"What are you?" Rhaenys asked in wonderment.

Argella didn't answer, instead, she pressed her attack and pushed Rhaenys back, until she tripped over some moss covered rock and fell backward, down the small hill they had been on. She had been lucky, had it been the other side of the hill, the steep cliff would have awaited her and not the uncomfortable, but relatively safe, rocky ground.

Rhaenys' dragon roared in utter rage, as it moved forward to keep its mistress safe. Odahviing reacted to this as well and prepared for the seemingly inevitable fight.

"Are we done yet?" Argella asked, as she looked down at Rhaenys, who had just managed to get back to her feet.

A thin line of blood ran down from a cut over her left eye. A ghastly looking wound, albeit not a threatening one if cleaned properly. But for a woman as beautiful as Rhaenys, any such wound in the face would be a great cause for resentment.

"This wasn't a fair fight," Rhaenys accused, as she slowly climbed up the hill.

"You have clearly never fought in a war if you think that fairness matters in a fight. The winner decides what is good and bad after the fight. The dead can't tell their side of the story, so survival should be the first thing on your mind."

Argella had learned this lesson the hard way. Neither Alduin nor the Stormcloaks cared much about honor. Neither does the Empire, but that wasn't a reason to keep her from joining their war effort. The moment she had entered Skyrim she had been threatened and nearly killed. Honor meant little at that time and even later, despite the claims of so many of her companions, victory had been the only thing that had mattered.

"You speak like an old crone, but by the looks you are no older than me," Rhaenys grumbled, as she stood before Argella once more.

Argella smiled indulgently at the other woman, not willing to broach the subject of her age. Before Sanguine's antics, she had been much older. At the very least a decade more than the princess of this world. Now she was young once more, with many more years to deepen her knowledge of magic and sword.

"Your wound should be cared for," Argella said, as she took a step closer to Rhaenys. "Allow me..."

"Why should I? Can I even trust you?"

"Are we enemies?" Argella asked.

Rhaenys pondered this for some moments before she softly shook her head. Some of the silver tressed of her hair touched the wound as she did this and she flinched in pain.

"I have no reason to hate you, so let us remember this fight as a friendly spar. And no spar among friends should leave lasting scars," Argella continued before she raised her hand towards Rhaenys face. She ignored that angry roars of the silver dragon, as she cast a minor healing spell to close the wound.

"What are you?" Rhaenys asked as she realized that the cut above her eye was no longer there.

"I could ask you the same," Argella told her, "But I will take my leave now, Rhaenys Targaryen. I will remember you."

"And I will remember you. We will meet again," Rhaenys exclaimed loudly, as Argella had already reached Odahviing and climbed on his back.

Argella allowed herself one last lingering look at Rhaenys and her dragon. This had been a strange meeting for sure. More dragons and at least one other dragonrider. Had Sanguine known about this before? It would amuse him at the very least, to know that he had sent her to the world with even more dragons… She really, really hates Daedra…

"This was very foolish, Dohvakiin," Odahviing reprimanded her as soon as they had managed to get further away from Rhaenys and her dragon.

"You sound like my mother," Argella complained in return.

"Showing your abilities to a complete stranger without a need for it," the dragon growled, "You only invite others to find out your secrets. This was a mistake."

"Now you sound like Elisif," Argella groaned. She knew that she may have made a mistake to show her magic to Rhaenys like this. She got carried away, too used to using all her skills in a fight. In Skyrim, no one would have been surprised by seeing a battlemage, but here…

"You will be the death of me, Dovahkiin," Odahviing grumbled angrily, before he said, "I'm taking you back to that castle of yours, lest you start a war here."

She didn't say anything return, deep in thought about what she had experienced on this small journey away from Storm's End. Dragons and their riders and world otherwise without magic. Just what was Sanguine's plan? She could only hope that she wouldn't find out too late to stop it...

A/N: So, this chapter is a bit longer than the first, that's an improvement I guess.

This was basically meant to establish some basic plotlines for the story. Argella's relationship with her father, Argella's friendly rivalry with Rhaenys and the beginning of the Targaryens' obsession with the fourth dragonrider in Westeros.

Well, so much for the moment. Next chapter will see the real start into the main plot line with the beginning of a journey and the first appearance of Orys Baratheon. And I promise, this time it will not take me five months to write that chapter. I really just forgot about the story... my bad...