AN: I've taken a few creative liberties with this story, and it doesn't fully follow the plot of the game. I've also downplayed a few things, mainly the effectiveness of healing potions/spells (since there'd be no risk involved if it worked as well as in game) and also adjusted the Dragonborn's Thu um abilities (the Dragonborn is still more skilled than the average person, but still has to hone the use of Shouts etc. and meditating takes longer than a minute long conversation with Paarthy)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Elder Scrolls Series, Skyrim, Vilkas or any other characters within this story bar my own Dragonborn.
Thanks for reading, comments and constructive criticism both welcome.
Updated 25.09.22
Rabbit Heart
But a day shall arise, when the dark dragon's lies,
Will be silenced forever and then!
Fair Skyrim will be free from foul Alduins maw,
Dragonborn be the savior of men!
- Song of the Dragonborn
Prologue
It had caught her scent. Smoke filled the air and blotted out the stars as a desolate whimper escaped her lips. The fires blazed, casting fiendish shadows on the walls of the keep. She was frozen in place, villagers, guards and prisoners alike running in panic around her as they screamed and burned and died. Blazing rocks plummeted from the sky, leaving craters in their wake. The great black creature turned its glowing eyes to her as she felt her heart thumping painfully in her throat. She coughed, mouth full of ash and dust, while the creature loomed above. It descended on ebon wings, wings so vast they filled the sky. It opened its jaws. She closed her eyes.
A hand suddenly grasped her arm, rough, pulling her. She opened her eyes to find the man at her side. He tried to speak, but she couldn't hear over the sound of screams and falling rocks. He tugged again, eyes wide, fingers clutching painfully and slowly she responded. With an effort like wading through tar she worked her legs into motion and ran, the creature howling its rage behind her.
They had caught the scent. Snuffling like blood hounds half the night had finally paid off, and a long, threatening howl escaped his maw. To either side his pack mates fell into step, moving as one without sound or signal like a being with a single shared mind. Muscles sprang into action and with liquid grace they ran, the moonlit plains of Skyrim sweeping beneath their paws. Alone they were fearsome, but together they were nigh unstoppable. The stench of blood and sweat on the breeze was so exquisite he howled again. The hunger burned inside, and the prey knew now they were coming.
Soon enough the keep rose above them, a crude stone mass stark against the greater crimson moon. Its light bathed the scene in shades like blood, and when the sentries saw them at last they cried out in dismay, and rightly so. He and his siblings were an awesome sight. Men struck at them with flying feathered teeth, but his pack was fast, strong, undeterred. A new scent reached his nostrils, and it was oh so much sweeter than the tang of blood. He whined low in his throat, the beast longing for the source. It was the scent of fear, and he would be well fed this night.