Author's Note:

Dear all, I've been spending some time now working on this fanfic. It's the story of my favorite Dragonborn all the way from her first days in Skyrim. I wrote it mostly just for myself but there is a chance someone else might enjoy it so I decided to post it. It's my first try at anything like this and I would welcome any feedback, criticism or opinions. Or praise… I always love me some praise :D

Beware that this is a slow-paced longfic and there's not always a lot of epic action or drama (or smut) right away. This is intended to be a very long story (and it already is) so there's no rush to get to the good parts. The perspective at times shifts fluently between the characters, but hopefully not in a confusing way. Also, while I believe myself proficient, English is still not my native language so there may at times be some miscommunication – please notify me if you notice anything like that (or any typos, I appreciate anyone pointing these out to me. Things slip through the cracks at times).

Story is usually updated very frequently (as much as twice a week), but I do not keep a set schedule. If there should be any significant delays in updates I would inform you, but I usually have plenty of chapters written ahead to avoid that :)

Last thing, I promise – I mostly adhered to the established lore of both SRM and TES, but there are some things I changed... some inadvertently, some inspired by other mods and some just for the sake of the story. If you see any lore discrepancies that bother you, you are free to complain and I will either explain my reasoning or admit lack of knowledge and change stuff :D

Enough blabbering then, here's the fanfic no one asked for.

Enjoy

Oh, and every character besides mine is the property of Bethesda, SRM authors or… Obsidian, I guess? Yada-yada-yada, you know the drill.

Chapter I – Out of the Fire

"Come on, we have to move! It's still out there!"

Despite his adamant urging, she stopped in her tracks. The twists and turns of the road ahead disappeared from her sight behind a myriad of lush trees. It all seemed so calm, serene even. The screams and the heat seemed like a distant memory for a small while.

But the searing pain in her upper arm broke the quiet reverie and brought her back to reality.

She took a deep breath and her hand, the one that was still clutching her burned arm, went alit with the warm-white light of healing magic. It wouldn't heal the burns completely but at least the pain would lessen until she could properly tend the wound. Luckily it wasn't very severe.

Hadvar stepped closer to her while his eyes still nervously scanned the skies. He watched as the light from her hand dissipated and he gently uncovered the chainmail sleeve of her 'borrowed' armor – the same one that the Stormcloak soldiers wore.

"It looks better," he smiled at her weakly. "We should really go. I'd like to put as much distance between us and the beast as possible," he let go of the chain and turned back towards the road. He was so purposeful and certain of what to do the entire time, even now when he was still scared and distressed. It may have been his soldier training. Unlike him, she had no idea what to do at any point. Her only thought was always to just run.

Then again, he wasn't the one greeted into a foreign province by a chopping block. And by something she really didn't even want to think about.

"We also need to tell someone what happened. As if anyone would believe it…" he mumbled, more to himself than anything, and started to walk down the winding path.

She set off after him in a short while. She thought for a bit about the fact that she didn't really have any idea where he was leading her, but somehow it just didn't seem to matter at the moment. Her thoughts were strangely numb, as if she still hasn't processed the happenings of the last day. The soldiers, the ambush, that giant axe waiting for…

"Down the road is Riverwood. I have an uncle there. We can stay at his smithy for a while, get back on our feet. And you can take care of that burn properly," he interrupted her thoughts with more idle talk. "We need to tell my uncle what happened, he will know what to do. Raising panic by telling everyone would do us no good after all. We should consider how to handle this carefully."

"How far is it?" she asked. Her voice was still shaking a bit. Everything was happening so fast, it felt like the first time in a long while that she actually said something. Her throat felt hoarse from inhaling all that smoke and ash.

"It's very close, a half-hour journey at most," he gave her an encouraging smile. Hadvar didn't seem so distressed anymore. He even stopped scanning the skies, probably relying on the tall trees along the road to hide their presence. It was hard to believe that he was fighting for his very life just a few moments ago.

She envied his composure – the more time to think she found herself with, the more she began to realize all that had transpired and the anxiety crept in.

They walked in silence for a while. Hadvar would occasionally point out some landmark in the distance but she couldn't really pay attention to any of it. The images of the burning town and the desperate screams all around her were still preoccupying every thought in her head.

And she could always see that… thing, right in front of her eyes.

…

After a while, a stone wall became visible behind the trees in front of them.

They approached the village and Hadvar headed straight for the smithy where a large Nord man could be seen working the forge – he had a thick light brown mane with a matching beard and his muscular form was draped in a black leather apron.

"I swear mother, it flew by in the distance! Large as a building I tell you!"

She was distracted by a sound nearby. It was a young man, dressed in a bright outfit, exclaiming with a hint of fear in his voice.

"You and your fanciful tales, boy! There's no dragons. You probably saw a large bird," an elderly woman scoffed at him as she occupied herself with beating a particularly dusty rug.

What would the people in town do once they learn about the attack? Hadvar seemed to think that spreading the word to everyone was a bad idea and she was always taught to approach such monumental issues with caution too. A mass panic could always do more harm than good.

She turned her head away from the exchange and ran to catch up with Hadvar – he was already talking to the smith.

"Shor's bones, just tell me what's going on, boy!" the smith exclaimed. "And what are you doing with a Storm-" he paused suddenly as his eyes roamed over her features. He looked confused for a while before he let out a hearty laugh: "Well damn, lass. I didn't think they recruited your kind. Now I've seen everything."

Hadvar sighed and rubbed the tips of his fingers between his brows. "Uncle, she's not a Stormcloak. She just… needed some armor. This one was available," he shrugged a bit defensively.

The smith chuckled and inclined his head towards her in greeting. "Alright then, name's Alvor, lass."

"Aeyrin," she replied. Her voice still felt so hoarse.

"Come on inside, you two. Sigrid will get you something warm to eat while you tell me what you're doing here."

…

Aeyrin swirled the spoon around idly in her steaming bowl of stew.

She felt like she hadn't eaten for days but, for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to even have a taste. She half-heartedly listened to Hadvar relay the day's events to his aunt and uncle. It all still felt like a bad dream, or like it didn't even happen to her now that she was listening to the tale. Everything that happened since she crossed the border just seemed so… unbelievable. But most of all, she felt strangely thrown by the sudden change in her path. After what happened, should she just go back to Cyrodiil? They warned her that Skyrim wouldn't be very welcoming, but this was certainly beyond what she expected. And suddenly she felt… directionless.

When Hadvar mentioned the large black dragon with strange fiery-golden wings, both Alvor and Sigrid gasped in shock and listened to his recounting of their escape from Helgen positively enraptured. When he finished the whole story, Alvor and Sigrid started discussing how Riverwood could not possibly defend itself against a dragon attack and how they would surely end up just like Helgen did.

"Hadvar, boy, you need to go to Whiterun soon after you rest and alert Jarl Balgruuf. He must lend his soldiers to us, there aren't enough here. He needs to protect his Hold if that beast decides to come back," Alvor insisted. The man was understandably rattled from the news.

"I cannot, uncle. I need to report back to the General immediately. I fear I am the only one from the Legion who survived. The General needs to know what transpired!" Hadvar paused for a while before his brows creased hatefully. "And he needs to know that Ulfric had his hands in it without a doubt," He clenched his fists angrily at the mention of that name.

Again with that Ulfric person… Hadvar went on and on about how he caused all that. She didn't understand why or how anyone would do that.

"But, Hadvar, what are we to do? We cannot defend Riverwood ourselves! And we cannot just start riling up the town. Think of the panic this would cause! People would either pack up their livelihoods and run or they would storm Dragonsreach with pitchforks," Sigrid exclaimed in desperation.

Aeyrin suddenly felt like she had woken up from a daze. The strange flurry of helplessness and the lack of destination slowly dissipated as her mind was eased, if only a little. The words she heard so often were ringing in the back of her head reassuringly.

Protect the weak.

"I'll go," she blurted out suddenly. All three of them turned their gazes towards her, their surprise palpable.

"You would?" Sigrid asked carefully.

"If you give me directions, I can go speak to the Jarl," Aeyrin confirmed with a slight smile. She wasn't exactly confident in her skills of cajoling soldiers from rulers, but hopefully the Jarl would offer the help himself when he heard what transpired.

Alvor gave her a warm grin and slapped his hand on her back amicably. "Well that's great news, lass! My boy Hadvar always had a good nose for people," he winked.

Good. This felt right. She needed a direction, a purpose. She needed to know what to do next.

If she didn't have that right then, she was pretty sure that she would only be drawn back towards the border. And she didn't really feel like crossing it again was a great idea – it didn't work out that well for her the last time.

"You need to rest some, and probably get some supplies and proper equipment first though. The roads are dangerous and you cannot show your face anywhere in that armor, lass. The Stormcloaks would skin you alive if they thought you killed one of their own!" Alvor frowned as he gazed pointedly at Aeyrin's ears.

"Eat up, dear, there's a wash basin downstairs and if you need a healing draught, we have some that you're welcome to," Sigrid smiled at her warmly. She seemed so much friendlier than just a moment ago. "You can stay the night in one of the downstairs beds. You must be dead tired, the both of you."

Aeyrin managed to get some stew into her and to wash up at least a little in the basin. She needed a proper bath, badly, but she was hardly about to complain about the family's hospitality. Sigrid even prepared a clean tunic and leggings for her, although they sagged terribly on her small frame.

Hadvar seemed to watch her a bit more admiringly since she offered to help and go solicit help from the Jarl. He even approached her about joining the Imperial Legion, which seemed a bit odd from someone who rushed her towards a headsman's axe only a few hours ago. She politely told him that she would think on his offer, but she hardly felt eager to join anyone, especially since she barely heard anything substantial about the Civil War before she got captured at the border.

The prepared bed was rather hard, only cushioned with some hay and with what looked like goat hide. It was still preferable to the bench on the prisoner cart where she spent the previous night.

Sleep still somewhat eluded her, but after a few hours of tossing and turning, she finally got some much needed rest.

…

Aeyrin woke up to a strange sensation. Was someone… stroking her ear?

She snapped her eyes open, alarmed, only to see a suddenly frightened little girl with ginger hair, similar to Sigrid's.

"I'm so sorry!" the girl yelped. "I just wanted to see if they feel the same as mine… I asked Faendal once but he got really angry and shooed me away," she admitted shyly and looked down on her feet in embarrassment.

Aeyrin sat up on the bed drowsily as the girl was cowering, waiting for her reaction. What a strange thing to wonder about…

"Do they?" Aeyrin smirked, still groggy from her rest.

The girl smiled shyly at her. "Yes. But I got startled by your… umm…" she got nervous again when she glanced briefly at Aeyrin's pitch-black eyes. She averted her gaze instantly with a half-frightened and half-embarrassed look on her face.

Aeyrin knew that Skyrim wouldn't be the most hospitable place for a Bosmer, but she thought the people would have at least seen an elf before. She certainly didn't expect to have her features studied like she was on a museum display.

But… she was just a child.

Aeyrin gave a slight sigh but she turned to the girl with a kind expression nonetheless: "You don't have to be afraid. My name is Aeyrin."

"I'm Dorthe," the girl chirped. "Are you a friend of Faendal?" she asked while peering at her curiously.

"I don't know who that is," Aeyrin gave her a questioning look – the girl did mention the name before.

"Oh. He's an elf too!" Dorthe replied with a cheery smile. Aeyrin felt compelled for a bit to tell the girl that all elves did not know each other, but thought better of lecturing a strange child.

"I'm a friend of Hadvar's," she explained after a while.

"Oh! Are you a soldier too?" the girl peered at her curiously again with a hint of reverence in her eyes.

Aeyrin only shook her head in response.

Dorthe looked a little disappointed by that, but then she beamed at her again with a bashful grin "Thanks for not getting angry at me. You can come and play with me and Frodnar later, if you want," the girl gave her an eager wave and skipped away cheerfully, heading up the stairs, away from the sleeping area.

Aeyrin looked over to the other bed which was now empty. Hadvar was in such a hurry to inform the Legion of what happened. Maybe he was already gone.

She should probably get on her was soon too, but Alvor was right. Equipment should be a priority – what help would she be if she died on the way? The roads were certainly dangerous.

She knew that all too well now.

…

After being served some breakfast from Sigrid, Alvor took Aeyrin to his forge to show her a few leftover iron ingots. He offered to make some armor for her from them in order to equip her properly for her journey.

It was a sweet offer. She could barely earn enough septims for some basic needs with the things she gathered under Helgen. It was a good thing that at least the Stormcloak weapons weren't decorated with their colors and she could keep that.

Still, she was feeling a little guilty for taking the family up on so much of their hospitality, so in the end, she offered to assist Alvor around the forge.

They worked together for many hours and Aeyrin insisted on doing a lot of the work herself. For one, she did not want to keep Alvor from his regular work and also, she was hoping to pick up some of the legendary Skyrim smithing skills on her journey.

Work hard and you will be rewarded.

Aeyrin finally felt more at ease than the day before.

She had a set destination and the hard work kept her mind from wandering into unpleasant places.

It was much better to concentrate on what lay ahead.

…

It was nearly dusk when she finally finished the crude iron armor.

She disliked full plates – she felt as if they restricted her movement too much. She preferred to make a separate piece for her chest and her back as well as fashioning some fastenings for the sides. Then she would similarly cover her lower body and arms with plate only where it was really necessary. She usually wore an underchain to protect the exposed areas, but she had no money to purchase one, no skill and time to actually make one and she could hardly coax it from Alvor for free. He was already too generous.

With her new armor she had to leave a bit more of her back exposed than she would like. It was her own fault, really – she messed up the measurements and her calculations of the amount of the needed metal for each separate piece. And since she was not about to ask Alvor for more free metal, she had to leave her shoulder blades exposed in the new equipment, much to the blacksmith's amusement.

"You should have let me handle it, lass," he laughed heartily.

"You had your own work, Alvor. And it will do for now," she smiled sheepishly and her cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment at her own ineptness. The priests have always insisted that failure was simply part of learning, but that was very easy to say and much harder to take to heart. Especially when she made such a stupid mistake in front of an experienced smith.

Just as she suspected, Hadvar had already left for the capital, and the night was swiftly approaching.

Aeyrin didn't feel right imposing any more on Hadvar's family, especially with him gone, so she gathered the few trinkets she collected in the dungeon under Helgen and headed towards the town trader.

After earning some coin, little as it was, she continued towards the tavern with the clear intent on having a good meal, Divines willing a bath, and a comfortable bed.

She would head out for Whiterun early in the morning.