Irileth POV:

The merchant's train is nothing but a bloody mess of bodies. Corpses are in various positions suggesting they were trying to flee while they were slain; blood is staining every piece of cloth in the entire area; and all of the fires still have a large amount of foot roasting above them. Well, 'burning' is a more appropriate word. I kneel down beside one of the bodies and examine it. Deep claw marks are covering it and multiple broken bones suggest blunt trauma. Blunt force followed by a wild beast shredding it with its claws. Usually, I wouldn't get involved in Falkreath events.

The only reason I'm down here is because reports of the illusive dragon popped up. Some local hunters in the mountains said they saw fire dancing across the night sky while a 'terrible roar' echoed across the mountain range. Honestly, I doubt it's the dragon. We haven't seen the beast in a year, so he's most likely dead or has left Skyrim. I stand up and begin examining the camp. My soldiers flutter around me while they likewise look for clues.

I'm the first to run across something. I'm examining an empty fire when I see something. The empty cooking stick has a large clump of matted, dirty fur on it. I snatch the fur off, take out my skin of water, and pour my drinking water over it. It takes a few moments of washing, but eventually the color is revealed.

The fur's color causes something in my chest to tighten and my throat to completely close. Red with patches of white. My hand flies to the tail dangling around my neck. I carefully remove my tie and compared the two. For a brief second I fool myself into believing they're different colors before I have to accept facts. The red fur on the spike and the red tail I claimed from the Dovahkiin are the same color. The sound of my men walking up to me causes me to shove the fur in my pocket and retie my tie. I'm standing and presentable when my soldiers finally see me. I offer all of them a shake of my head. Everyone looks crestfallen, so I try to raise their spirits a little.

"We still have the reported den to examine.". The men nod and begin walking, but there's no energy in their steps. I can't say I blame them. The den is a mountain nearby that the locals say is hollow, and a scout reported seeing claw marks on the top of it. It's close by, but far enough away that I have some time to think. She can't be alive. How could she survive? I saw the dragon eat her before flying away. My throat is still clenching and the lie I've always told myself is slowly challenged. If the Dovahkiin survived, then I need to find her before my men. If her body is found or someone else kills her, then my claim of killing her will be proven fake and I'll be exposed as a liar.

Isn't that what I am? I never knew she was dead. I just assumed. Assumptions don't mean anything... I shake my head to chase away thoughts of the warrior Khajiit that at one point haunted my dreams. At one time in my life the woman terrified me and I was afraid that cutting off her tail (without killing her) would bring her fury down upon me. Now I know the woman for what she really is. A washed up warrior who's hiding in the wilds.

Besides, I have a company of the finest soldiers Whiterun has to offer me. If they can't take her down, then the entire Legion will be needed to take the monster down. I'm still walking when I realize I can't let my men see the Dovahkiin. If they see her, then they can spread the news. Instantly, I whistle to get all of the soldiers' attentions. I point over my shoulder in the direction of the merchant train that we came from.

"Go back and check for survivors, clean up everything, and begin sending letters to the closest family member of the deceased.". My soldiers look confused, but don't question me. Before they leave, I take the supplies I'll need to check the supposed dragon's lair. Without my men holding me back it takes me less than five minutes to reach the mountain. I secure everything for climbing, toss an anchor up, and begin my ascent up to the top of the mountain.

I repeat the process for climbing down the other side. What I find in the hollow mountain causes me to be thankful I sent my men away when I did. Large prints of a dragon are all around the clearing, but that's not the worst of it. A camp is set up, and from examining it I have a decent idea of who was here. I rub the tail around my neck and shake my head as I stand. I need to take care of this before anyone else finds out.

However, I need to do something else first. I go around to the camp, pile everything in the center, and use magic to light everything on fire. The camp rises in a blaze and smoke begins lazily drifting up into the sky. The final thing I do before I go is to go around and wipe away all of the dragon's tracks. When I'm done with that the fire's up and I'm able to cover the ashes in smoke.

I take a look at the empty clearing and smile. Nobody will have any idea that there was ever a camp or dragon prints here. I use my rope to climb back up and down. Finally, I return to my men. I'm shocked to see the men with a cowering little girl. An older one of my soldiers is sitting on his knees and softly talking to the child. Everyone turns to me as I draw near them, and the elderly solider offers me an explanation.

"We found a survivor. She described a monstrous beast that destroyed the camp, then claimed to see a dragon flying towards the Rift.". I kneel down beside the girl and motion my men away. The child looks up at me with fearful eyes and seems to shrink away from my presence. It'd be wise to slowly coax the information out of her and be kind and considerate. I grab the child by the arms, pull her close to my face, and snarl a single question at her.

"Who attacked?!". The girl's eyes become wet as she barely manages to gasp out my biggest fear.

"Khajiit. Big. Screamed.". It's enough for me to piece the information together. A tremendous Khajiit that can scream people to death. It's either the Dovahkiin, or a very accurate impersonator. I heave the child up and whistle for one of my soldiers to come to me. I thrust my finger at one of the horses tied to a carriage and explain my demands to the man.

"Tie a sturdy bow; every single arrow you can find; the finest sword we have; three burlap sacks; all of our food; ten skins of water; and any camping supplies we have to the horse. I'll be leaving with the child as soon as the packing is done.". I can see on the man's face (and I already know) that he thinks the horse will be weighed down and struggle to carry everything. My priority isn't keeping the horse alive, so all I need it to do is get me to the nearest stable. Then, it can die in agony for all I care. The man quickly saddles me beast, I scrabble onto it with the child, and we're off. The damned Dovahkiin better watch her back.


Dovahkiin POV:

The Imperial leads me through the thick woods to where we last were. Odahviing is nowhere in sight, so we're forced to sit on the ground and wait. If we were more cautious we would hide ourselves for fear of some random hunter or scout seeing us. Ria doesn't move, so I just sit beside her. I still don't trust her, but I've gotten a little bit closer. She could have left me for dead inside that cave and lived her days out with Odahviing. Oblivion knows the two get along better. However, the woman wouldn't leave me behind. A part of me wants to start trusting her and trying to build the base for a friendship with her.

Then, another (larger) part of me reminds me what trust and love have gotten me. I've played the role of a betrayed friend, scorned lover (twice), ridiculed mother, and sacrificed confidant. The only role I've played that I've enjoyed is the 'Dovahkiin', and even that ran out soon enough. Trusting Ria will most likely add 'slayed villain' to my long list of titles, so it's best to hold off on giving her any of my scarce trust. In fact, I begin treating the woman coldly as soon as I can. I turn my back from her and look at the ground in silence. The Imperial either doesn't get the hint or (more likely) ignores it. She scoots over to where she's sitting beside me and allows the silence to hang. Finally, she speaks after a few minutes.

"Can I say something that might be a little offensive to you?". Why note? Everyone else has. I grunt for her to go on.

"It's odd thinking of you as a person.". Well, that wasn't what I was expecting. I was expecting something about my appearance, weight, or mental capacity. I slightly turn my head towards the woman (not enough to actual see her) and grunt again for an explanation. The Imperial delivers.

"When I was in Whiterun I'd always hear stories about you. Your bravery, strength, fearlessness, and your willingness to always help anyone who needed it. For years all I'd hear about down at the tavern was you and some great adventure you just went on or some expedition you were planning.". She's trying to flatter me to get me to like her more.

"All I'd hear about was your service to the army, dedication to the people of Skyrim, and loyalty to the Jarls. It was like you were a living legend and a paragon of perfection. Every young boy dreamed of wooing you; every warrior wanted to be as great as you; and everyone with power wanted to claim you as a friend. You weren't a person. You were the 'Dovahkiin'. A symbol or story, not an actual person.". Looks like it worked.

"I saw you at the tavern in Whiterun once.". I decide to turn to her to listen to the rest of her story.

"You were celebrating liberating some hold from enemy troops.". I nod at the memory and add to it.

"I bought everyone drinks and demanded the bard play the songs I wanted, then shouted he was singing the wrong song even when he got it right. Poor lad kept singing every song he knew in any order he could think of in the hopes to placate me.". Ria smiles and nods energetically. Looks like she enjoyed me adding to the conversation. I fall silent and allowed Ria to continue.

"I thought you were the biggest damn hero all of Skyrim's ever seen.". She cocks her head to the side and squints at me.

"Think. I think you're the biggest damn hero Skyrim's ever seen.". My chest tightens and I shake my head as anger burns in my gut.

"You're a terrible liar. The Sack of Whiterun-". She cuts across me.

"I was told by the Jarl that the dragons were mindless beast under your control and served as your thralls. That's why Odahviing, the red dragon Irileth told us about, ran away from Whiterun. After you died he had nobody to follow.". I fall silent and simply stare at her blankly. The Jarl convinced everyone the dragons were simply animals. It makes sense (easier to tell someone they're killing a beast than a sentient creature), but it still angers me to no end. I'm about to voice my anger in disbelief. Then, Odahviing lands and blows my plan to oblivion.