A/n: There are mentions of Mods that I use while playing Skyrim. If you want to know more let me know. Mentions of limb loss and slavery ahead.
XXX
Burz gro-Nolob entered the small inn that was his and his brothers, Balagog, temporary home. Balagog had been excited for the snowberries they had found growing by the inn. They made for a wonderful crostata cooked delicately by the inns welcoming fire.
Balagog had been invited to Solitude to serve a meal for Emperor Titus Mead II, but it was not for several weeks yet. They had left their home in Orsinium, a city nestled between the Wrothgarian Mountain and the Dragontail Mountain area of High Rock, and decided to travel around the province and discover what riches they could find in the Nordic land. They had found mostly snow and strange looks due to their towering height and fierce looking tusks.
Burz shook the snow from himself at the door, not wanting to track water through the inn and have to pay for wood rot. He then headed downstairs where his brother had made him self comfortable that morning. "Brother, the storm has broken. We should continue our way to Solitude." His words were met with silence. "Balagog, let us go."
He searched the room they had rented and his bright golden eyes found a small puddle of blood near the chair inside the room. He followed a few drops of blood out to the inns home brew storage and then behind a few boxes. There, in a puddle of blood, was Balagog. It looked as though it were a quick single arrow to the back. 'Not even a chance to defend himself,' he thought bitterly.
XXX
Burz had made his way to Solitude after preparing his brother for transport to the nearest Orc settlement for funeral rights. He heard of the Emperor's demise, and wondered at his brothers death and the coinciding massacre that had happened at the dinner he was supposed to attend.
Solitude was in chaos when he arrived. Guards were bringing a man to the headsman's block, people yelling various things to them and the man. "You imperial bastards!" "Justice!"
He walked on, headed for Castle Dour. He asked a guard who the appropriate person to talk to was, and he pointed the way to Legate Rikke. "You're the Gourmet's brother?" Burz said nothing but shifted uneasily. "We received a report of his death, and have cleared Balagog gro-Nolab of the Emperor's assassination." Burz sighed in relief. "I've got a good feeling about you. And I don't often get good feelings about anything. A warrior knows to trust her gut... I'm not going to go through the normal process with you. I've got a little test lined up. Pass that, and we'll talk about you joining the legion."
XXX
Burz ran through Whiterun, nearly tripping over a woman with snow white hair and a Dunmer woman with flame red hair, who were running out of the city as fast as possible. He himself ran through town, dodging guards and civilians as he made his way to Dragonsreach.
He he found and approached the Jarl at his desk in the living quarters, and kneeled in respect before standing. "I have an important message from General Tullius."
"No doubt requesting to garrison his men in my castle," Balgruf said with a sigh, looking up from his parchments. "You are just in time. I've just sent off a Stormcloak courier to reject Ulfric's occupation of my city. You'll wait for a reply to take to Tullius." Burz said nothing. The letter was finished quickly, and he rode back to Solitude.
His horse was a chestnut color, standing at just half a foot shorter than him at the withers, his mare was calm and gentile, and he had aptly named her Chesna. He had bought her in Dragonstar just before he and his brother had entered the Reach. His brothers horse had been stolen after his death, presumably by the assassin who killed him.
XXX
He was now stationed in Dragons Bridge. The war was not going well for the Imperial Army. The Stormcloaks had seized the holds previously beyond their reach, though they had yet to make an attempt to take Solitude. There was talk of an outpost nearby.
He had heard dragons were coming back to Skyrim, but as yet hadn't seen one. Maric, another guard, had jokingly complained that his cousin was out fighting them while he was stuck with guard duty. Both men were glad to have never encountered such a beast.
As he walked past Four Shields tavern, Maric passed him, reporting nothing suspicious. Suddenly, there was a great roar from over head, and a copper colored dragon swooped low over the village. It landed atop the ancient bridge and inhaled deeply, before it let out a giant blast of fire, igniting the saw mill.
The guards and those of the Penitus Oculatus Outpost who were there rushed to get a good vantage point to use their bows with some effectiveness. The dragon lifted itself off the bridge and landed on the other side of the village, allowing a brave few to switch to their swords and attack it at close range.
The dragon thrashed it's tail, pushing some soldiers and some of the more brave townspeople. It's jaws opened up and fire erupted again as it attempted to crawl away. Burz came up on its side and attempted to drive his sword into the beast, only to be noticed. The dragon bent it's head back and grabbed him by the leg, before whipping him around like a babe would a rag doll. An arrow from Maric stunned the dragon and it threw Burz down the road, a tooth lodged in his leg.
The dragon fell before the guards, blood flowing from its wounds, staining the ground and weeping into the earth. Maric and several other guards hurried towards their fallen Legate, who had ripped the dragon tooth out of his leg and bled profusely.
"Burz, what are you doing?" Maric covered the wound with his hands as Faida tore a piece of her dress off to help stem the blood flow.
Before the wounded officer could answer, the dragon was set aflame by some unknown force. As the flesh was stripped away by the fire and a light rose from the ashes. The light formed into a dragon, which gave out a breathy roar before it swooped down and flew into Burz, disappearing into him.
The dragon spoke to Burz, in a soft dying way. "Dovakiin, kuz dii sil ahrk mindos pruzah." (Dovakiin, take my soul and learn well.)
Burz passed into unconsciousness from blood loss, but not before hearing his best friend whisper in awe. "Dragonborn."
Burz had woken at the sound of the Greybeards call. He had looked down at his leg, knowing he couldn't climb the steps to answer, then found himself surprised. His right leg had been amputated, and replaced with a rather clever Orcish/Dwarfish prosthetic. Maric had been at his side, explaining to him how General Tullius and Legate Rikke had sent out requests to the Orc smiths across the holds. It had been Moth gro-Bagol of Markarth who had come up with the design.
Maric also explained how the dragon had died, Burz only having partial memories. "You've been awarded an honorable discharge. You should go see the Greybeards."
"You win this war for me, Maric, or I swear, I'll come back and make you wish you had," Burz laughed as he slapped his hand on his friends shoulder.
XXX
Burz climbed the 7,000 steps to High Hrothgar. The wind bit into his skin and snow congealed in his dreadlocks and beard. He knocked loudly on the doors, watching for any sign that they would open. The door opened and a hand darted out and grabbed him by his armor and pulled him inside.
"You should be careful climbing the steps in this weather," a white haired woman said as she helped him brush the snow from himself. "A storm like this brought me here. You must be the new guy. They're waiting for you. Follow me." The woman spoke quickly, not giving him any time to respond. Funnily enough, he didn't seem to mind, and followed her through the stone walls.
She showed him to a fire place and sat him down in front of an old man, and placed a blanket over his lap and shoved a bowl of stew in his hands. "You are the Dragonborn? You have come to answer the summons?" The old man sat forward on his own chair as the woman began using a small fire spell to melt the leftover snow and ice from Burz's shoulders.
"Give him a minute, Arngeir, it's a blizzard out there," the woman admonished the man in a mothering tone. "Don't you worry about Arngeir," she continued as she dried him off and placed a tankard of warmed mead in front of him. "He's very excited. As am I. And everyone else. But finish your food first and then we'll talk." Burz only nodded as she placed some bread in his stew.
After he was done, the woman took the bowl, tankard, and blanket away, and the man began again. "You are the one to answer the summons? You have the inborn gift?"
Burz shrugged. "I was on assignment in Dragon Bridge when a dragon attacked. I lost my leg and was knocked unconscious. As the dragon died my men say I absorbed something from it. When I awoke with a new leg, I made my way up the steps."
"Have you noticed anything unusual with your train of thought since you've woken up?" The woman returned and stood at the mans shoulder.
"No, I haven't."
She seemed put out by his answer. "No unexplainable desires? Words floating around your head that make sense but you don't know why?"
Burz thought for a second. In the back of his mind, he heard the word. "Fo." The word came from his gut like a mighty yell. From his mouth came a blast of cold breath, coating Arngeir in a thin layer of ice.
"Very good!" The woman applauded as Arngeir wiped himself clean of the ice.
"Very well done," Arngeir acknowledged. "Frost breath, a difficult one to master. But you seem to have it well in hand. Perhaps, Adrayla you would assist in teaching him the next word?"
"Of course," the woman said as the three of them stood. She beckoned him to follow, and gain he was amazed with his instinct to follow her orders. She led him back to the main entrance and placed him in the center of the compass square. "The next of the rotmulaag in the thu'um is 'Krah'. It means cold. Combined with frost, 'fo', you get a stronger shout. More ice, more frost, more cold." She bowed her head and he felt a force funnel into him. He suddenly understood the words on a deep level. "Face the flames up there, and try it," she said pointing to the fire pit that sat above them.
He turned to the fire pit and unleashed the words. The fire flickered and died under the force of his thu'um. He looked pleased with himself as three other elderly men exited the through the back of the keep with Arngeir. "Very good," Adrayla praised. "As soon as they clear the storm, we'll go out and see how you deal with a completely new shout."
The walls shook with the force of the Greybeard's voices. "Lok, Vah, Koor!" Burz looked around as the sounds of the blizzard died away. "And that's them done," Adrayla said as she led the way out. The pair entered the courtyard and the four Graybeards stood by an iron gate. "Go ahead," she urged him. "They don't bite."
He stepped closer to the men, turning to watch the woman return to the keep.
XXX
"I wish to speak with you, Adrayla," Burz said as they rested for the night in a secluded area off the main road.
"Oh? All this time, hardly anything from you." She smiled at him gently. "What do yo want to talk about?"
"Why do I feel so compelled to follow your orders? Why am I drawn to protect you?" His rough voice was hard but his bright gold eyes were soft; demanding answers, though not intending to cause distress or pain.
She drew a breath and bit her lip. "The long or the short story?"
"The truth."
She sighed but nodded. "In short, you are compelled to do so by your instincts. This is because I am not Dovakiin as you are. I am Dovahjud. Dragon Queen."
"'Queen'? What does that mean?"
"When the last queen found her fin sil, I was born and received her power. Her ability to have the upper hand with any of the dov. That comes with a certain amount of instinct amongst the dov. They must follow me, or they die." He drew back. "Don't worry, as Dovakiin, you seem to have more control over yourself than the dov do. You haven't challenged my authority, not taken more than I've assigned to you, but still pushed the boundaries and found things you can get away with. Like when we're in a skirmish and you start belting out tactics."
"You're not very good at tactics. And your have a tendency to get too close as an archer."
"That's exactly my point. You can do that and not get yourself killed. If a dragon did that, it would have been killed by any allied dragon that was nearby. Or anyone that wanted to BE an allied dragon."
"So, you're the highest authority in the dragon realm?"
"Yes, and if any of them wish to try and prove otherwise, I can turn into a full dragon," she said as she pulled the venison from the fire pit.
He sat in silent shock for a moment. "You can turn into a dragon?"
"Yup," she nodded. "I'm also Guild master of the thieves guild." She looked up at him. "I hope it wont be a problem."
"No, milady."
She hissed annoyedly. "Don't call me that."
"My Queen?"
"I'll smack you."
"Your Majesty?"
She ripped off a piece of venison and threw it at his head hard. He dove out of the way to avoid the flying meat. "No more, or I wont miss. And I wont use your share of dinner." Burz only laughed as he picked up the venison and brushed off the dirt before eating it.
XXX
The two of them were on a courier job for the Jarls of Skyrim, to seek the Interim Advisory Council's help in choosing a new High King or Queen. The Moot had progressed too long, and the people were becoming hostile once again. The Moot had narrowed down their options for the throne to the Jarls of Winterhold and Whiterun. Now they hoped that the Council would be able to decide the rest.
They were just about to cross the border from Riften Hold to the Heartlands of Cyrodil where the Jerall and the Velothi mountain ranges met. It was the fastest way to cross the border.
As they drew closer to the border, they saw a dragon circling in the distance. "Funny, there were no reports of dragons nearby," Burz said as they dismounted their horses. They drew closer to the border at a slower sneakier pace and watched as it dove to attack something they couldn't see over the ridge.
They quickened their pace as the dragon flew back into the sky, circled again, and hovered over what looked like a caravan, before it blew fire onto the people. They reached a Dunmer who was hiding behind a wagon. "Need some help?" Adrayla pulled her bow taunt and aimed for the dragon.
"We were headed for the border when it just came out of nowhere. Please, all of my product is burning!"
The dragon continued to circle as Burz looked around at the caravan, noticing there were no cargo boxes, but several people who were all chained together in groups. He drew his companion's attention to the others. She looked over at the people, and particularly their chains. She nodded at him subtlety as he pulled a dagger out of his back sheath. As the Dunmer was watching the dragon fly overhead, Burz plunged the knife into the heart of the man, killing the slave trader far faster than either of them would have liked.
Adrayla refocussed on the dragon, letting an arrow fly swiftly from her Gods enchanted bow. The arrow embedded itself into the dragon's eye, killing the creature instantly. The dragon crashed into the earth, but the pair took no notice as they rushed to sheath their weapons and run to the slaves.
They were chained by race: Bretons, Imperials, Nords, and Redguards in a group, Altmer, Bosmer, and Dunmer in a group, Argonians, Kajiit, and Orsimer having their own groups. They worked quickly through the groups closest to them, slaves either staying to give thanks for their freedom, raid the dragon and caravan for expensive materials, or fleeing as soon as they were free.
As they freed the last of the former slaves, they heard the dragon releasing its soul. They both prepared to receive the soul, souls had a tendency to chose which one of them it would reside in. But as they felt the wind settle they noticed the soul flow past them into one of the people who had stayed to give thanks. A Kajiit woman.