A/N: It's been a long time since I've written anything worthwhile and this is actually the first story posted on this new account (woo hoo!). This story will contain a few spoilers, so I suggest you play quite a bit of the game before taking a read. I'm surprised you're reading this, by the way. It's hard to tear yourself away from the amazing and addictive game that is Skyrim. I actually feel pretty bad for not playing right now, haha.

Chapter Two: The Dragonborn Drinks Milk

High Hrothgar wasn't Miura's first destination after her tangle with the dragon in the Western Watchtower. Blood was surging through her as well as out of her as she shuffled down the steps from Dragonsreach. Though there wasn't any way to be sure where she'd precisely been hit, there were certainly too many burns and bite marks to count and even a few misfired arrows protruding from her skin. Even Jarl Balgruuf noted the extensive wounds and not only rewarded her valor by making her Thane but suggested that she leave some of her items with her new Housecaarl, who rolled her eyes as Miura handed her a few "burdens".

Practically limping on her way out, all eyes were on her. Some of the guards felt the need to comment, telling her that she didn't look so good while stifling their chuckles as they passed her. Others kept their distance, likely fearing to meet their end by being ripped apart by a shout as their High King had. Miura kept her head down, not just in anguish but in shame as well.

'Dragonborn…'

It flooded her head like an echo. What did it even mean? And how could the weakest, milk-drinking whelp of the Companions possibly hold that title? Clearing a cave of rogue mages almost did her in and it wasn't even her who killed the dragon, she just absorbed its soul among the ravaged bodies of the true heroes. It didn't make much sense to her. Destiny, they said it was. Well, destiny was a funny thing. Miura Table Masher: the Dragonborn. It almost sounded like the punch line of a cruel joke.

"What the hell kind of beast chewed you up and spat you out?" Aela gasped, rushing to Miura as she collapsed in front of the doors to Jorrvaskr.

"A dragon, actually," she mumbled weakly against the floorboards, allowing Aela and Vilkas to pick her up and haul her into the living quarters.

"Dragon? Someone's had one too many blows to the head."

"It's true." Vilkas cut in, grabbing a hold of her ankles. "The watchtower is burned to the ground and some of the townsfolk went down to see the skeleton."

Aela gave no reply and instead continued to carry Miura into one of the beds downstairs. With Tilma's help she wrapped the burns and pulled out the arrowheads, Miura groaning and squirming at every move.

Day was carefully creeping into night and by that time, the blood loss had really got to her head and she slowly faded into the darkness of sleep. Tilma rushed in and out, replacing rags and water bowls of blood with cleaner ones. Vilkas slipped away pretty quickly at Njada's request, taking a bit of anxiety with him. Aela pressed down on the deeper wounds to stop the overflowing crimson but didn't want to wrap the wounds until she could put something on them to ward off infection.

"She's burning up. This is getting bad. Someone needs to pick something up from Arcadia. Could you tell Ria or Torvar to go?" Aela asked, dabbing Miura's head with a wet rag. She was still shaking in her sleep.

"They aren't here. They must have set off a few hours ago. I'm not quite sure anyone else is here either. Just us," Tilma replied, reaching for a coin purse on an end table. "I'll go."

Just then, the doors violently swung open and the hulking shadow of Farkas dimmed the already soft glow of the room. On each arm were assorted animal pelts and some minor cuts and bruises. More than likely he had returned from clearing a cave for a client and brought home some souvenirs.

"What happened?" he asked, tossing the furs somewhere across the room. Aela turned her head and sighed.

"What does it look like, ice-brain? Miura is hurt. Bad. And I think she may have already taken a turn for the worse."

"I'll go get the salve from Arcadia." Tilma chimed in, already turning on her heel to go.

"No, I'll go. You stay here and help Aela." Farkas interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder and taking the coin purse from her hands.

"Tell her to give you something strong!" Aela called from the bedside as the wind blew through the doors to hit the fiery hearth in the hall.

"A-Am I…blind?" rasped a small voice from a mountain of covers.

Miura awoke to nothingness. She felt sore all over her body but a heavy ache across her eyes. No matter how hard she tried to open them, she found that she couldn't and reached out to the air in front of her to see what was obstructing her vision. Sensing a pale hand on top of his own, Farkas lifted the rag from over her eyes and rushed to pour her a cup of water. Miura blushed and let out a small giggle. "Oh, okay. Not blind. Good to know that wretched thing didn't blow out my eye sockets."

"You're awake. You've been out for a few days now. We didn't think you were gonna make it."

Miura tried to sit up but found that even moving an inch turned the soreness into a sharp pain and winced at the feeling. Farkas carefully tilted her head and let the rim of the cup lightly touch her cracked, swollen lips. Miura took a few gulps but moved away to give Farkas a small smile. "Thanks."

"Aela wrapped you up. I've been coming to check on you once in a while. We heard about the dragon. I still can't even believe it but Vilkas said it was true. He saw the skeleton with his own eyes, he said. So I believe him."

"Farkas…" Miura used most of the strength she had to finally pull herself up to a seating position. Though she'd whispered his name, her eyes were glued to the floor in an intense gaze. "That dragon was powerful. I watched as it tore through many great men, men greater than myself. They were the ones who took the final blow and I doubt I barely even grazed the thing. All I did was suck the soul out of it and then all of the sudden I'm some sort of mythical legend. Dragonborn."

Laughs, jeers and the sound of fist meeting flesh rang from the hall. Njada and Athis were most likely at it again. Miura sighed and took another sip from her cup, this time without Farkas' help. Farkas did not respond. He was probably trying to figure out what she was getting at.

"Can you even believe it? Me? You know me. I'm weak. I wouldn't even be a Companion were it not for you vouching for me, and we both know that you did more fighting in that cave than I did. I could see it in their eyes, those guards! They were laughing at me. They know I'm just a milk-drinker."

"I'm not too good with this kind of thing, but…you know they call me ice-brain around here. I might not be the sharpest blade on the rack but I'm no fool. I have my fists to back me up, too." At that, Miura smirked. Plenty of challengers could attest to that.

"You could've run away scared from that dragon and many others would have but you stayed and you fought. You barely made it back but you did. They can call you whatever they want. They can laugh in your face and push you around. If anyone asks me, though, I'll tell 'em straight. Miura Table Masher is no milk-drinker. She's a worthy shield sister."

Before she could say anything in reply, Vilkas walked in with an irritated expression on his face. On the contrary, Miura's expression seemed to light up a bit.

"Ah, you're awake. Are you done lounging around? Because Kodlak wants to speak to you. Sounds important."

Miura swung a leg over the side of the bed and prepared to stand up. Farkas quickly stood and offered his arm to help her balance. He didn't think it was good for her to strain herself so quickly and he knew that even the slightest motions gave her a great deal of pain, but he knew there was no stopping her. Her feet firmly planted on the floor, Miura gave not one indication that she was hurt and even suffered to smile at the nonchalant Vilkas.

"Sorry. I'll make my way there now. Thanks for letting me know, Vilkas."

Vilkas only grunted in return and turned to leave, but Miura stumbled on her first step and quickly clutched onto his shoulders for support. Farkas tried to catch and steady her but she seemed to conveniently slip out of his grasp. He knew she wanted Vilkas to help her instead.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, Miura." Vilkas groaned, wrapping an arm around her waist to make sure she didn't fall over.

"I'm so sorry! I'm still pretty hurt, you know. Maybe you could help me walk over to Kodlak's chambers?" she wondered, pouting her lips a little bit.

"Sure thing," he replied, escorting her little by little and step by step towards Kodlak's room. Farkas kept his position at her bedside. Running a few fingers through his long, disheveled hair, he let out a bit of a sigh and watched as his dear friend and dear brother disappear down the hall.