Her hands ran through his black hair, pulling it from the ponytail he normally wore. He pulled her closer and kissed from her chest to her shoulder to her neck. She arched her back and moaned, reaching forward to ... poke him in the eye?
Wren's eyes shot open, dispelling his dream. He realized that he had just stabbed himself in the face with a finger. "Nnnnnnghh," he groaned, reaching up to wipe the sleep from his eyes. His head throbbed and he raised his left hand to his head while using his right to push himself off the floor where he had been laying.
"How much did I drink last night?" he moaned. His question was quickly answered when he rose to his feet to survey the virtual landscape of bottles left behind from his drinking binge. "Shit," he rasped. His throat felt like a desert. Wren slumped through the door to his room and realized that he was in the Bannered Mare. Memories of last night were coming back ... with a start, he realized that the woman he had dreamed about had been here, next to him, last night. Less pleasant memories followed.
His shoulder and back muscles, honed from years of combat, pulled the bowstring back easily and released the arrow. The arrow, which he named Ulfberth, flew into the air and hit the dragon directly in the right nostril. It roared, spraying fire, and crashed right into the already dilapidated watchtower.
As it hit the ground, a claw managed to catch a guardsman in the neck, tearing through his chainmail like silk. His head detached from his body with not so much as a goodbye, flying a good ten feet and landing at Wren's feet. Blood splattered and Wren winced - these were his good boots. He sprinted at the dragon, slipping his bow over his shoulder. He drew his sword, flipping it so he held it upside down. He vaulted onto the dragon's neck, landing clumsily. His groin smashed into a scale and he made a face under his helmet, freezing for just a moment.
A moment too long.
The dragon shook and stood, shaking Wren all about. "Oh for the love of ..." he muttered, grabbing a dragon horn with his left hand. "GGGRRRRRRAOAOAAGHG!" roared the dragon, still shaking. A guard ran up with a longsword and began slicing at its wing membrane. When the dragon turned, distracted, to attack the guard, Wren let go of its horn. He stood up, raised his sword with both hands, tensed his muscles. With every bit of strength left in his body, he brought his blade down toward the dragon's head. And missed. By like a foot.
"Shit!" Wren shouted, falling off the dragon's head. A claw come down and he rolled out of the way, cursing under his breath. He came up on one knee, driving his sword up toward the dragon's stomach. It hit the scales and instead of giving him the satisfying feeling of cleaving flesh and bone, it shattered into at least three pieces.
"What is wrong with me today?" Wren exclaimed, rolling out from under the dragon and drawing a dagger. He leaped onto the dragon's back, clenching the dagger in his teeth. He crawled up its spine, almost falling off at least twice. "Monkeyfunster!" yelled Wren, opening his mouth. The dagger promptly fell out. Wren just rolled his eyes. Figures.
When he got to the dragon's neck, he drew an arrow. He took the arrow, broke it in half, and took the part with the sharp tip. After throwing the other half, Wren stuck the sharp point into the dragon's eye. It roared and wheeled its head around, almost flinging him off. Unfortunately (story of Wren's life) the dragon's sharp movement flung the arrow - and the eyeball - away from Wren. The bloody glob that used to be an optic nerve trailed out of the dragon's empty eye socket, flinging gore onto Wren's helmet. Wren reached up and pulled off his helmet. He had one option left, and he would need his peripheral vision to make sure he wasn't batted off by a claw. Wren pulled off his right glove with his teeth. With his left hand, he held the dragon's eyelid open. With his right, he reached two fingers into the eye socket. Wren felt around until he felt something that seemed important. It was wet, slimy, and squishy. Perfect. He snatched it, pulled, and gore splashed out over his face. A clear fluid was leaking out over his hand. But most importantly, the dragon was laying unmoving on the ground.
It was then, straightening up, wiping his hands, and giving the remaining soldiers a grim grin, that his life was changed forever. A glow, whirling and twirling like a ... Wren struggled to find a suitable simile ... whore on skooma? Anyway, the glow flowed into him, warm and welcome, like a ... again, like a whore on skooma. "I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes!" said one guard.
"The Dragonborn! You're the Dragonborn!" said another.
A guard approached him. "If you're really the Dragonborn, you should be able to Shout. Try Shouting."
Wren frowned. "Shouting? What should I Shout?"
The guard shrugged.
"HEY!" shouted Wren. "HO! BISCUITS! MEAD!" He was starting to attract attention. He kept trying, getting more and more desperate as time went by. "MONKEYFUNSTER! BIGGLENOGGLE! SHAZAM! ALLAKAZOO!" He was starting to feel a bit foolish.
"Screw it."
He walked back to Whiterun across the plains. If he had taken the main road, he would've run into a courier sent to invite him to an audience with the Jarl. As it was, he went back and got drunk. Reeeeeeally drunk. And dreamed of sexy women and ... blood sucking sweet buns?
Wren shook his head and blew air into his cheeks. He walked up to the innkeeper, who had been studying him while wiping down a glass. He nodded at her and she smiled.
"Hello. Do you need payment for my room?" asked Wren, hoping she said no. He had no money left.
"No," she said. "Your whore paid for it." After a moment of confusion, he realized she meant the mystery woman from last night. "She was no whore. Just a visitor." The innkeeper looked slightly skeptical, but nodded anyway.
To be honest, Wren had no idea what to think about the mystery woman. She had accepted his kiss, returned it even, but she was no whore. She had paid for his room, which is more considerate and caring than any whore he had ever known. Really, more considerate than most people these days.
"Do you know her name?" he asked, smiling in spite of himself.
"No." And the innkeeper took another glass, spit in it, and began wiping it down. Wren made a mental note not to drink here again and left, pulling a leather jacket on over his plain gray tunic.
For a moment after he stepped outside, the sun burrowed into his eyeballs like a carnivorous wheat product. Wren took a moment in the doorway to let his eyes adjust - until a freezing cold wind blew by and encouraged him to keep moving. Walking up to the Palace (he figured that Jarl might have a reward for killing the dragon) he kept attracting strange looks. Women began to stare at him and smirk, wink, or even double take. Men gave him strange and sometimes hostile looks, especially when walking with their women. Wren tried to smile back but his head hurt so badly that he wasn't sure that he wasn't grimacing. Finally, he reached the Palace. Dragging the door open, he stepped inside and immediately felt better. Wren walked up the stairs, approached the Jarl, and ...
Everyone froze.
Men frowned. Women giggled. A child pointed. One man whistled. Wren made a face. He didn't have enough brainpower to figure this out right now.
Jarl Balgruuf looked up. He frowned, raised his eyebrows, lowered them, coughed, and said something unintelligible in a soft voice, which was extremely odd for him, a man used to addressing a noisy court.
"Pardon?" Wren swallowed.
The Jarl cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was more gruff than usual. "You're. You're not wearing, well, you're not wearing pants."
Despite the sinking feeling in his chest, Wren remained somewhat calm. He looked down, slowly. Blinked, slowly. He was, at least, wearing a loincloth. He blew air into his cheeks. "Right, ah, right. Excuse me."
He walked slowly and kept his head high. He headed into a room to the right of the main hall, and began bashing his head against the wall. "Idiot!" he grunted. "What is wrong with me?"
"For starters, you're banging your head on a wall." A voice came from behind him. A woman's voice. Wren closed his eyes. He grinned ruefully and spun around, holding his arms out wide. Sitting behind him was the mystery woman.
Author's Note:
"GGGRRRRRRAOAOAAGHG!".