Chapter 1

Loredas, the 25th of Rain's Hand, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys kept a tight grip on her emotions and on Val's enormous two-handed axe. Her strength had grown after she had Devoured Mir-Mul-Nir, but the axe still felt very heavy in her hands, as it should under the circumstances. It was not the weight of the metal. It was the weight of the responsibility. She could feel every one of her followers watching her as she prepared to render judgment upon the three bandits who had surrendered.

Although calling them bandits was being generous. Fort Greymoor had once protected the western approach to Whiterun. It had fallen into disrepair after many decades of neglect. However, it had still been garrisoned until Mir-Mul-Nir had attacked it. The surviving guards had stripped the fort and retreated to Whiterun. That left the dragon with free reign to hunt the nearby villages and farmsteads. The tales she heard were similar to the ones she heard on the way to Whiterun. The dragon mostly preyed on cattle, but sometimes raided farms and villages. Some of those driven out of their homes had taken shelter in the abandoned fortress. Rather than rebuild, they turned bandit, raiding and plundering their former neighbors. They were basically just armed peasants. Her scouts had captured their lookout while he was literally napping. From him they had learned how the fortress was defended, or more accurately the lack of defenses. Planning an assault had been easy. Daenerys had her archers attack the eastern wall. When the bandits in the fortress were distracted, she attacked on foot along with Sofija, Val, Lydia, and Farkas. They simply walked right in through a large breach in the western wall. The fight didn't last long. Daenerys and her followers mostly tried to keep up with Farkas as he ran from one bandit to the other cutting them down with a swipe of his sword. Once the battle was done, it was left to her to pass judgment on the scout that they had captured as well as the two who had surrendered.

Val gently laid a huge hand on her shoulder. "Lass, you don't have to do this. I'll do the killing for you."

"No." Daenerys took a deep breath. "I must do this. The one who passes the sentence should swing the axe. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. If you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die." Wisdom from another world and another life. Words shared to her by Jon Snow when they were lovers. She had loved him and thought he loved her. If she had listened to those words, then maybe she wouldn't have burned King's Landing. Maybe things would have gone differently. It was easy to kill when riding a fire-breathing dragon in the sky. The cries of her victims had been distant. She hadn't seen the burning corpses. She certainly felt the weight of the axe now.

"Well said!" Val nodded his approval. "I wish more Jarls felt that way. Jarl Korir certainly did not."

"Just get it over with," grumbled Farkas. While he shared his brother's face, Farkas was a simple man and much less patient. "They threw down their weapons. Give them a coward's death so we can eat."

Daenerys walked over to where the three men were bound. Memories of being on the other side of an executioner's axe just months ago came back to her. A Nord whose name she didn't know had gone before her. He had bowed down before the block without being restrained. She had approached her own death kicking and screaming rather than with the dignity of a queen. While she had not done anything to the Imperials to merit at the time, she had murdered so many. Her crimes made these bandit's crimes as trivial as a child stealing a sweet. Who was she to judge these men?

"Please!" begged a dark-haired man. "Please, we had to do something. The dragon drove us out. We had to eat."

No matter her crimes, she was not being judged today. These men were, and they were guilty. "I might have forgiven that, but not what you did to the women." She swung the axe down with all her might at the man's outstretched neck. It clove right through. The man's head hit the ground, and blood fountained out of the stump of his neck.

Daenerys felt queasy, but she would get through this. She looked over to the three women they had found. Agnis was a half-senile old crone who hadn't fled when the Whiterun guards pulled out. She insisted it was still her duty to keep the old fortress clean. Aana was a middle-aged blonde woman who was watching with tears in her eyes.

Raina, was the third. The red-headed teenager supported many bruises from her abuse. While they had beaten her and raped her, they hadn't broken her. She cheered loudly, "Yes! You're all going to die, you skeever-shits!"

"Please, please, please! I helped you! You caught me, and I told you how many men we had! Where they were! You won because of me. You owe me my life at least!" begged their lookout.

Daenerys swung the axe and he lost his head. That only left one.

The third man looked up and met her eyes. "What we did to the girls never set right with me, but I did it anyway. I'm ready."

She brought the axe down.

.oOo.

Daenerys looked from her book at the sound of voices outside her tent and glanced around. It was a nice tent, far removed from the little canvas shelter that she had used on the way to Winterhold. That tent had been barely large enough for her bedroll and she had to crawl to get into it. This tent rose tall enough that even Fultheim and Farkas could stand beneath its shelter with room to spare. It was also large enough to accommodate a half-dozen people in comfort, more if they were just standing around. Fultheim called it her command tent, and she did have the obligatory table with a map on it. However, it was also effectively the women's tent.

Sofija and Aana both slept. Raina was busily sewing away trying to create a patchwork banner with the symbol for House Targaryen on it out of some cloth they had salvaged. It was busywork, but the girl needed something to do. Aana slept most of her days, but had embraced her role as cook. Raina wanted to fight, but she would never be a warrior. The bandits had hobbled both her and Anna by smashing their right ankles with hammers, so they couldn't run away. They had followed that up by giving them sips of a weak healing potion. Their ankles had healed badly and could never be fixed by magic. Daenerys had tested Raina for magic, and she showed little aptitude, nor did she possess any useful skills. Daenerys didn't particularly want a handmaiden, but she had apparently acquired an angry foul-mouthed one, at least until they returned to Whiterun.

She closed a ribbon into her book to serve as a bookmark. The interruption was welcome. Fultheim had recommended The Art of War Magic by Zurin Arctus as the best book on strategy that had ever been written. She was only halfway through the book and she believed him. However, it was a difficult read. It was more like reading poetry than prose. She had to be read each passage multiple times and plumb them for meaning. The book really shone a light on many of her mistakes, as well as some of the things that she had gotten right more by luck than planning. However, like a heavy meal, it wasn't something she could digest all once. She pushed herself up out of her chair and stood with some effort. While she had grown both magically and physically stronger after Devouring Mirmulnir, she was still adjusting to what the Nords called steel armor. Reinforced leather would be more accurate, as it was basically leather armor with steel plates added at strategic places. At the advice of Fultheim she wore it most of the time when she wasn't actually marching across the countryside.

She cleared her throat. "Sofija, it sounds like the scouting party is back."

Sofija sat up abruptly in her bedroll and seemed about ready to conjure a blade. She shook her head ruefully after a moment. "Yes, my thane." She quickly got dressed and into her armor.

Daenerys felt tempted to tease Sofija about Ull missing the show she was putting on. However, she knew that her housecarl wouldn't take it the right way. Sofija and Ull had fallen into bed together after the celebration that Jarl Balgruuf had thrown for Daenerys and her followers after slaying the dragon. They hadn't tried to hide what had happened, nor had they made any secret of the relationship. While Nords were very committed to their clans and families, they were remarkably open to relationships before settling down. Not that they could have hidden their new status if they tried. They were traveling together and the thin canvas of Ull's tent did little to silence the sounds of their lovemaking. The one time that Sofija had discussed it at all was an awkward conversation where she had made it clear that her allegiance to Daenerys and House Targaryen was her highest priority. She told Daenerys that she had purchased a supply of Dibella's tears and would drink the potion when necessary. Whenever Daenerys was around, Sofija remained as stoic and dedicated as ever.

Daenerys glanced over to Faralda. She knew that Faralda had heard her, but she hadn't looked up. "Would you join us to hear what the scouts said?"

Faralda put away her own book and with a gesture and a small amount of magic refreshed the magelight spell on the tentpole, but she didn't say a word. She had almost died fighting Mir-Mul-Nir. While healing potions had saved her life, they hadn't been up to healing all the damage. The once attractive elf now had horrible red burn scars over much of her body including her hands and face. Faralda had adapted by wearing gloves and covering her entire face with warpaint. The red flaming hand that symbolized destruction magic now stood boldly on Faralda's face on top of a copper-colored foundation. She also kept her head covered by a scarf indoors and wore a pointed wizard's hat outside to hide the stubble that was left of her hair. However, to Daenerys the real change was that her friend and mentor had grown distant. She gave curt answers to direct questions but otherwise remained silent.

"Thank you, Faralda." Daenerys was worried about her, but Faralda had brushed off every attempt to talk to her. Daenerys made it a point to keep her involved, so she didn't withdraw further, but she obviously didn't want to talk. Daenerys waited until Sofija moved to take her usual position behind her chair before she called out. "You may enter."

Ull the Hunter swaggered in first with a wink at her direction that she knew was actually directed at Sofija before giving his usual concise report. "We found Dustman's Cairn. We also found tracks. Plenty of tracks. Looks like about two dozen men went inside. I'd say yesterday."

Jenassa entered behind Ull and moved to stand at his right side and a little in front of him. Jenassa was a Dunmer mercenary that Daenerys had hired in Whiterun. She projected an air of dangerous competence. She was a skilled archer and scout, which made her a particularly good find.

While Daenerys had resisted embracing the title of Dragonborn, that was in the past. After she Devoured Mir-Mul-Nir there could be no doubt or denial that she was indeed Dragonborn. The title came with more than honor, fame, and respect. The title also came with expectations. The people, the nobles, and even Jarl Balgruuf all believed that she would do something about the dragons that plagued Skyrim. As if that wasn't enough, the Red Comet in the sky was evidence that the gods themselves expected her to do something about the dragons. Just from the descriptions she heard, there were at least three other dragons roaming Skyrim. However, she had plotted the locations and times of reported attacks and sightings on a map. Rumors weren't entirely reliable, but there had to be at least six dragons. As if killing six dragons wasn't enough, if the legends were true, then the ancient dragon that attacked Helgen was Al-Du-In, Destroyer-Devour-Master, the World-Eater, and she was expected to fight him as well.

However, being expected to kill dragons and actually doing it were two different things. Her fight against Mir-Mul-Nir had been a close thing, too close. Nobody held the death of Mikko or Juhani against her. However, the fight had been much closer than the number of casualties made it seem. She had almost died. Faralda had come just as close, and Sofija had also been severely injured. If she continued with her same tactics, they might win the next fight with a dragon, but they might not. While some claimed she was lucky, Daenerys believed luck was more a matter of knowing how to seize opportunities than truly random chance. Preparation and planning could create those opportunities.

And it wasn't just the dragons. The people expected her to save them from all Skyrim's woes. Fralia Gray-Mane, the aging matriarch of the Gray-Mane clan, was convinced her son Thorald was still alive somewhere. Fralia asked her to somehow find him. The Gildergreen, a tree which legend said was as old as Whiterun, was almost dead. Danica Pure-Spring, the high priestess of the Temple of Kynareth, wanted her to retrieve a special dagger from some hagravens to restore it. Ysolda, a ditsy aspiring merchant had even asked if she could get her a mammoth tusk to impress some Khajiit which would somehow make Ysolda a better merchant. Not to mention the people who wanted her to solve the Stormcloak Rebellion while she was at it. Although there was a large difference of opinion on how they wanted it solved.

She did have ideas for killing dragons without almost dying. She had plenty of ideas. Unfortunately, like most things in life they all took time, money, and people to carry them out. Being the Dragonborn wasn't the same as being a Queen of Meereen or Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. She didn't have an army of Unsullied willing to die for her. She didn't have a Dothraki horde behind her, and she didn't have three dragons backing her up. She had a small band of followers, who were very loyal, but she needed more. Jarl Balgruuf had named her Thane of Whiterun and thrown a feast in her honor. He had also assigned Lydia to her as a housecarl. However, he was reluctant to lend her much other support because she was widely known to be a Talos worshiper, and he was trying to stay neutral in the war. There was also the expectation that Nord heroes should do things themselves, or at least lead their own sworn band of followers.

So, Daenerys had decided to grow her forces. She needed more men, but more importantly, she needed more firepower. Unfortunately, Masters of Destruction did not grow on trees, so she had turned to more mundane alternatives – ballistae. A ballista was both slower to fire and did less damage than Faralda could. However, they did have better range and did not run out of magicka. Jarl Balgruuf wouldn't sell her any ballistae, nor would he build more himself. He did not want to make it appear that he was about to take an active part in the war. However, after some argument, he did agree to lend her some carpenters and siege engineers and permit her to construct two light ballistae herself. While she would have preferred more, it was a start. Trade had all but come to a halt because dragons were attacking trade caravans. The light ballistae were just the right size to mount on a wagon and cover with a tarp. Add a wagon or two for carrying supplies and hauling away loot, and she could hopefully lure dragons down for an ambush. At least that was the plan. She was all too aware how easily she had destroyed the Lannister army when they had relied on a small number of scorpions to defend their march. Dragons were fast and nimble flyers, and ballistae were hard to aim and slow to reload. Ballistae in large numbers were a threat to dragons. Two ballistae were targets that might hit back.

She also had to provide enough men to crew them. Light ballista required at least three men each to load and fire, but she wanted to have more trained. It would be easier to acquire more ballistae than people to man them. Which brought her back to needing to recruit more men. She had an abundance of people eager to swear to the Dragonborn, but few of them were warriors. Most of the warriors in Whiterun were either in service to Jarl Balgruuf or had rushed off to join the war. Jarl Balgruuf had flatly refused to allow any of his guards to leave his service. That meant she had to select from those who flocked to her banner, and most of them were simple peasant farmers. She sent them to Fultheim to test. While archers of Ull's caliber were rare, Skyrim was a wild place. Even in the vicinity of Whiterun, elk, wolves, and wild cats weren't uncommon. Some farmers supplemented their diet with wild game. Many others at least knew how to swing an axe or shoot a bow for protection from beasts and bandits. Daenerys had Fultheim test some of her eager applicants for archery skills and tasked him with turning them into a ballista crew. She also encouraged him to select up to a dozen that he felt had the potential to train as men-at-arms in her service. Fultheim turned most of them away. He had high standards in sorting the wheat from the chaff, but Daenerys didn't complain. She had learned the hard way that she couldn't make every decision herself. One of the secrets to being a good leader was to pick good people and trust them. She trusted Fultheim. Besides, she wasn't trying to recruit an army. She needed men who could go into barrows and wouldn't break and run when facing a dragon. Quality was more important than quantity.

That was what made Jenassa a great find. While it wasn't that unusual for peasants in Skyrim to know how to shoot a bow, most of them weren't highly skilled archers. According to Fultheim it took a decade to train a good archer, and even then most weren't as skilled as Ull. Since dragons could fly, she desperately needed skilled archers. She couldn't count on every dragon being as foolish as Mirmulnir. He could have easily won if he had just stayed in the air and strafed them with fire instead of landing to attack her. Jenassa's bow skills were almost as good as Ull. She was even a little bit better at long ranges.

"Jenassa? Anything to add?"

"Not much. As Ull said, around two dozen men, and they are large men by the size of their feet." Jenassa was also about as talkative as Ull, which was saying a lot.

Daenerys frowned. The timing was suspicious. Two dozen men just happened to descend upon Dustman's Cairn the day before they would arrive? It was too much to be a coincidence, and the Companions weren't exactly good at keeping secrets. The day after she had been accepted as a candidate people throughout Whiterun had congratulated for joining. Was someone planning to ambush her? No, that didn't make sense. They would have hidden their tracks. Maybe it was some opportunist trying to grab the fragment of Wuuthrad before she did? The axe was legendary, but the broken pieces weren't worth much except to the Companions as relics of their founder Ysgramor. If someone did get the fragment before she did, the Companions would no doubt pay a lot for it. Greed was a common motivation. All of which would be good questions for Farkas, who wasn't reporting in.

"Very well. We'll leave in a couple of hours when the moons rise, just like we planned. We'll have more light to see by and hopefully we'll catch them sleeping. You can go until then. Would you send in Farkas?"

Ull dipped his head. "He didn't return with us, Lady Targaryen. He decided to stay behind and watch the entrance while we reported."

Daenerys wasn't happy to hear that. While Farkas wasn't sworn to her, they had discussed her plan to travel after moonrise and attack at night before he left. Skjor had given this mission to her. Farkas was supposed to observe, but he wasn't doing that. Not that it would do any good to complain. As a member of the Circle, he even outranked even sworn Companions, let alone a newblood like her.

"Very well, you can still go. We'll stick to the plan and leave at moonrise. You're both dismissed until then."

With that command Jenassa and Ull left.

Sofija moved around and bowed her head. "Do you need me, my thane? Lydia has the watch." There was a slight hitch of eagerness in Sofija's usually calm voice.

"You can go until moonrise, Sofija," she replied. While Sofija would undeniably deny it, behind her mask she was still a young girl. Daenerys remembered what it was like to be eager to spend time with a lover.

After Sofija left, she turned to Faralda to share a knowing smile. However, Faralda had already returned to reading her book. With a sigh Daenerys returned to the Art of War Magic, but she found it difficult to get back into the book. She wasn't happy with Farkas. Was he deliberately trying to sabotage her mission? Or was it something else? Joining the Companions would benefit her greatly if she could pull it off, but she had both supporters and detractors. Farkas had initially been enthusiastic, but he had grown increasingly impatient during their journey to Dustman's Cairn.

Joining the Companions hadn't even been part of her plan. It had been a spur of the moment decision. She went to Jorvasskar to ask about hiring one or more Companions, not to join them. They were renown as Skyrim's greatest warriors, and they could be hired to kill bandits, beasts, and monsters. The Companions had jumped to the conclusion that she was there to join and passed her up the chain until she reached the top. That's when Kodlak Whitemane invited her to join.

She seized the opportunity with both hands. While Fultheim had proven adept at turning men into soldiers, it would take time. She desperately needed skilled warriors, and the Companions were supposed to be the greatest heroes in Skyrim. They were also the most expensive heroes in Skyrim, and they preferred to be paid by the mission. Their daily rate would have drained her coffers quickly, but she had been hoping she could bargain the price down. Joining them was an even better opportunity. The guiding principle of the Companions, 'Every man his own. Every woman her own.' seemed to offer her another way. If she could earn the respect of some of the Companions, some of them might simply choose to come with her – for free. At least that was her hope. Although after her first mission to the Falmer caves she could better afford to hire one or more Companions. Dwemer-metal was both rare and expensive and she still had more of it than she could sell.

Not to mention that becoming a Companion would greatly boost her reputation. The Companions were the custodians of Nord honor. Merely being allowed to train with them as a candidate was the equivalent of being a squire in Westeros. Actually joining them, would be the same as being knighted. She still remembered the hostile reception she received at Winterfell from both Sansa and the people. While the people of Whiterun were singing her praises now, she was not the Nord warrior they expected the Dragonborn to be. She was an outsider who used magic. Inevitably she would disappoint some people and that praise would sour. Being accepted by the Companions would send the message that she had the heart of a Nord, even if she was a short outlander who fought with magic.

Seeking to join the Companions didn't even alter her long-term plans. She had already committed to staying in the vicinity of Whiterun for the next few weeks anyway: Fultheim needed time to find more recruits and train them, her two ballistae were under construction, and there were Nord barrows near Whiterun that she wanted to explore before leaving the area. She had even decided to extend her stay for a little longer after the Falmer caves. She had also swapped some of the dwemer-metal scrap from the Dwarven Centurion to Eorlund Gray-Mane. He was creating a custom-fitted set of skysteel plate armor for her in return. However, even the legendary master smith of the Skyforge needed two to three weeks to make a suit of plate armor.

Daenerys had expected that the Companions would throw her out after a few days when they realized she wasn't really a warrior. However, she was both stronger and faster since she Devoured Mir-Mul-Nir. While she was no match for her fellow Companions in terms of skill, she was no longer helplessly outmatched in any sort of physical combat. Vilkas switched her to using a mace and was personally tutoring her most mornings. To her surprise she was even enjoying the sessions. Not that she was giving up her magical training. While it wasn't a bad idea to have some skill at physical combat and not rely completely upon spells, she simply didn't have years to learn how to fight properly.

It was obvious to Daenerys that she was being groomed for membership even if she wasn't a warrior maid. Many candidates waited for months, even years to get a mission like this one. Kodlak obviously wanted her to join, and she obviously had the blessings of the Circle as well. Vilkas was training her, and Skjor sent her on this mission. This mission was giving her a chance to impress Farkas, although she hadn't had much success with that. While they hadn't come out and said it, she had the feeling that if she brought back one of the missing pieces of Wuuthrad, that the Companions would admit her.

Daenerys shook herself out of her reflections and closed her copy of the Art of War Magic. She wasn't getting any further with the book tonight, but if she wasn't going to read she had better things to do than daydream. At the top of that list was practicing magic. She had been so busy of late that it was hard to find time to practice.

She really should spend more time experimenting with her Thu'um. She now knew a dozen words of primal power: Fo, Frost; Fus, Force; Iiz, Ice; Mir, Allegience; Mul, Strength; Nir, Hunt; Ro, Balance; Shul, Sun; Toor, Inferno; Yol, Fire; and Zun, Weapon. Three of those words spoke to her more than the others, Yol-Toor-Shul, Fire-Inferno-Sun. Those formed the Thu'um that dragons used to breathe fire. Those words felt like they were bound closely to her soul. Whether it was because Yol was the first Shout she learned, or because of her Targaryen heritage, she did not know. She did know that three was an important number for Shouting. Yol-Toor-Shul fit together so well to form a weapon. She had heard the ice dragon shout Fo-Krah-Diin, Frost-Cold-Freeze, and she was certain it was another triplet. Twice draugr lords had shouted a force triplet, of which she knew Fus-Ro, Force-Balance. She wasn't certain, but the last word was probably Dah, Push. There was also the triplet dragon names. Mir-Mul-Nir, Allegiance-Strong-Hunt and Al-Du-In, Destroy-Devour-Master. However, other than the feeling that three was an important number when it came to primal words, she didn't have a clue what it meant. Nor did that help her in how to use those words.

She had discovered that some words had effects by themselves. Ro, Balance, used by itself would grant her almost perfect balance for a short while. It had the added benefit of greatly improving her form when using weapons. While Ro lasted her strikes were a thing of beauty. Even though the feeling faded, she could still remember how she had moved. Shul, Sun, caused her body to shine brilliantly for a brief while, but she was pretty sure there was more to it than just light. Shul wasn't just the heat and light of the sun. It was also the purity of it. Mul, Strength, could also be Shouted by itself. Mul had a surprising effect, cloaking her in ethereal armor for a brief while and making her both stronger and faster. However, it was also dangerous. It placed a strain upon her mortal body, and she knew trying to use it too frequently could kill her. Other words like Mir, Allegiance, and Nir, Hunt, simply didn't do much by themselves. There was an underlying grammar to the primal words. Some of them were verbs and needed a noun to define a target. Others didn't need a target to act.

However, now was not a good time to be Shouting. They were waiting until moonrise so they could hopefully take the bandits at Dustman's Cairn while they slept. Shouting repeatedly would be foolish. Just because they didn't have sentries standing guard outside, didn't mean they didn't have some people out scouting the area. Shouts were loud. Even if they weren't planning an ambush, Shouting repeatedly disturbed even her followers. She missed having the soundproofed Destruction practice room where she could Shout without attracting attention.

While she couldn't Shout, she could still meditate on her Words. In addition to growing physically more capable, she seemed to have grown mystically as well. She had recently mastered a spell based on Iiz, Ice. It didn't work instantly like her Shout, but it did rapidly chill a target. So far, she had only been able to practice on inanimate objects, but she could freeze a tankard of water solid in a few seconds. Not that impressive considering her spell based on Fo, Frost could do the same. While she was pretty certain she could use it to subdue people without killing them, she really couldn't confirm it short of trying it on someone. At least not by herself. Faralda had been good at finding ways to measure the effects of spells.

Daenerys stole a glance at Faralda. Unless she was mistaken Faralda had been staring at the same page for quite some time. "Faralda, I'm going to do some meditating now. I think I'll work on the new spell, the one based on Fus and Fo to make a create Ice Spike."

Faralda looked up briefly then returned to her book.

Daenerys had hoped that talking about Shout-based magic would draw Faralda out. Her mentor used to question her in detail about the process. Those days were gone. She missed Faralda's advice, but she missed her friend even more. While she did enjoy the adoration of her followers, it also isolated her. Maybe that was another reason she was spending so much time with the Companions. While they respected her deeds, they weren't in awe of her.

With a sigh Daenerys sat down on her bed to meditate. Ice Spike was an important spell to master. Most dragons breathed fire and using Firebolt against them would be stupid. Her Frost spell based on Fo was short-ranged. She needed a spell that could hurt a dragon in flight. She had managed to use her knowledge of Fus, Force, and Yol, Fire to make a Firebolt spell. Now she just had to replicate it with Force and Frost. She was making good progress and felt that the spell would work, but it just wasn't there yet. She closed her eyes and meditated on Fus and Fo, Force pushing Frost out into the world. She still had more than an hour before moonrise.