Alright, another chapter! Thanks for all the great reviews. I really appreciate it.

Enjoy! :D

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to TES. Bethesda does.

Chapter 5: Return to Helgen

After I slipped into a nightgown provided by the innkeeper, I slid under the covers of the straw-filled bed. I let out a content moan as I lay my head on a feather pillow. I couldn't remember the last time I felt this comfortable. I was in bliss.

Earlier I had to escort Bret back to his room. The poor goat had passed out on a bar table. A group of Stormcloaks talked him into playing a few hands of cards as a drinking game. Bret was sloshed after three hands of Go Slaughterfish. I had to knock around a few Stormcloaks for drawing on Bret's face with charcoal pencils after he passed out. Hopefully now he'll learn to control his liquor. Or stay away from that Honningbrew mead.

My mind raced. I couldn't believe how so many things could occur in the span of two days: the dragon in Helgen, a dragon sighting in Riverwood and Ulfric seeking my assistance in the rebellion against the Empire. Right now Bret was the only individual who I considered a friend, and even he depended on me to help him get to Winterhold.

I covered my face with my hands. Ugh, gods. I missed my simple life as a mercenary. Get a contract from a mysterious individual. Kill someone. Return to the mysterious individual. Get paid. Repeat. No questions. Easy peasy.

Now my world had been altered, and I'm forced to adapt. But that's what hunters do and what we do well: adapt.

What the fetch was wrong with me? Why couldn't in just stay out of everyone's business? Why am I suddenly getting sucked into everything? What makes me so damn special?

No more questions. Stop thinking now.

I closed my exhausted eyes and focused on shutting down my brain. Stopped thinking about the dragon from Helgen, about the new dragon, Bret and his family, about the possibility of new life in Skyrim.

About my mother.

Stop thinking, Brynhild.

I missed her.

Stop!

I missed him too...

I drifted off to sleep, thinking about what used to be and what could have been.

And what will never be.

Helgen. Brynhild was back in bloody Helgen. This couldn't be real.

Smoke rose from the charred remains of homes, shops and corpses. So many corpses. Those images will forever be burned into her mind, like the scorched, ashen covered remains of Helgen.

She looked around trying to find some sign of life. Something. Anything. Nothing stirred. The only sound was the haunting whistling of a slight breeze blowing through the remains of the hold.

It was dark. Too dark. The sky blacker than night. The moons, Massar and Secunda, and the stars were absent in the aphotic sky. Brynhild felt the darkness closing in and surrounding her. The shadows became larger, more terrifying, trapping her in the nightmarish world. A light fog blanketed the ghost town, creating an eerie, unnatural ambiance.

Her heart rate quickened, her breath irratic. Terror began to creep up her spine as she tiptoed silently through the empty streets.

"Hello?" she called out. The sound of her voice echoed through the town.

Something moved out in the distance. Brynhild swore she saw a shadow jump from one side of the street to the other.

What was that? It was much too large for a man.

Laughter rang through the streets. Fear and trepidation enveloped Brynhild. She felt an evil presence, yet something about it was familiar. She spun around. She knew she was being watched, yet she couldn't see details as the fog grew denser and obscured her vision.

Another guttural, deep laugh.

Brynhild's eyes widened in terror. "What do you want?" she cried, panic thick in her voice.

"You, Dragonborn," a hypnotic, deep voice whispered from behind. A chilling breeze caressed Brynhild's cheek.

Brynhild reached for her dagger, surprised to find it in it's sheath, and whirled around ready to attack the unknown entity. No one was there.

"Show yourself, coward!" she screamed.

More laughter.

Byrnhild began to pant. Her eyes scanned her surroundings. She was absolutely terrified. She grabbed her Talos amulet around her neck seeking some sort of comfort.

"Talos, save me," she whispered.

A violent gust of wind blew, knocking her backwards and sent her skidding across the street.

"THE FALSE GOD WILL NOT SAVE YOU!" the voice roared angrily. "YOU WILL BOW TO ME, DRAGONBORN, FOR I AM YOUR GOD!

Brynhild slammed her head hard on the cobbled streets. Stars winked in front of her eyes and fought back tears of pain as she struggled to sit up.

"Get up!" the voice bellowed. "Get up and accept your fate, Dragonborn."

It took all her strength to push herself up to her feet. She stood out in the open feeling vulnerable and weak. There was nowhere to run. She was trapped.

The menacing laughter returned.

I'm going to die, thought Brynhild.

In the distance, a massive shadow descended from the starless sky and swooped towards the terrified Byrnhild. Faster and faster it approached until she could see it's demon red eyes. Brynhild didn't have a chance to throw up a ward spell. She didn't have a chance to scream. The menacing shadow opened it's jaws. It was too late.

"YOL!"

The fire engulfed Brynhild, burning her alive.

"Hin sil los dill..."

..."Your soul is mine."

I shot up in my bed. I was choking. Gasping. Hyperventilating.

Dying.

My skin...it burned! I actually felt the dragon's fiery breath searing my flesh. Looking down I saw my arms were blotchy and warm to the touch.

Thank the Nine it was a dream. It sure felt real.

I looked over at the window and noticed it was still dark outside. In a few hours dawn would greet the new day.

I tossed the covers off and walked to the small, worn dresser with the vanity mirror and water basin. I splashed water on my sweaty face. The cool water didn't soothe my burning skin. I looked up into the mirror, my mouth dropped open.

Oh my gods. My eyes...they...glowed. Not glowed like a shimmer. But actually glowed in the dark.

I leaned closer to the mirror to inspect my freakish eyes; large, illuminated, golden orbs staring back at me. Amazing. They reminded me of Hircine's own eyes. Otherworldly and deadly. Beautiful.

My eyes have never shone like that. I looked like a true hunter of the Hunting Grounds.

As much as I hated Hircine, I have always embraced my Daedric qualities, especially my gold eyes. Radiating in mysterious power. Raw power. And strength.

I grinned, my reflection smiling back at me.

Skyrim was in for one fetching surprise. Me.

-0-

Short chapter, I know. But I hope you all liked it. Working on another one then school starts back up...blah. Anyways, thanks for reading!

-Lady Luna83