Chapter 2:
Kian walked through the main gates of Whiterun feeling more anxious then when he had arrived as a newly escaped prisoner of the empire. The Dragonborn felt invisible eyes over his shoulders, and that the gaze of everyone who turned his way could burrow through his cloak and see the small, warm form pressed against his side.
In reality, his paranoia was far from the truth. It was late, the guards were hardly awake, and the only people out were those who had no home to return to. But when you find yourself, the city's Thane and greatest hero, smuggling one of your deadliest enemies into its walls, you can feel the transgression emblazoned on your chest in big, red letters.
Kian tried his best to seem natural… but concentrating on pretending to be natural often leads to unnatural results. So the Dovakiin walked with a stiff gate and a smile that showed far too much teeth through the near abandoned stone streets towards his place of residence.
He came to a stop before a modestly sized house made of cobbled brick and wood. The sturdy structure had been a gift from the Jarl for his heroic deeds, and having a place with a roof and warm fire to come back to at the end of the day had become one of the many little joys in Kian's life. Now, looking at the cozy building he had come to call his home, the adventurer felt the full extent of weariness. Not just from climbing rocks, exploring dungeons, and spending most of the day in a saddle, but an emotional exhaustion that left his mind feeling like swamp mush in his skull. His pack felt unduly heavy and his shoulders ached in protest.
The weight of the baby dragon shifted as the beast turned over within the cradle his right arm provided, and that feeling of emotional taxation increased tenfold. There was much left to do tomorrow; the issue of dragon breeding still had to be brought up and discussed with the Jarl, and there was no doubt he would be left running the entirety of Skyrim until it was fixed. As well, there was still the issue of what he had decided to bring home to settle.
Fuck, it was going to be a long night.
Kian swung the wooden door open and stumbled from the cold night into a warm interior.
"Hail, my Thane!" a voice called as a woman stepped from the kitchen into the common room.
Kian groaned internally. Great. He'd forgotten about Lydia.
Not that Lydia was a source of ire for the Dovakiin. In fact, he considered Lydia a valuable team mate and a close friend. They had experienced enough near-death encounters to ensure a bond tougher than any well forged sword. She had been a part of the reward along with the house. Her job, as commanded by the Jarl, was to serve as the Thane's assistant of sorts. To help with any tasks needed and, as was the issue now, to care for the house when he wasn't there.
As much as he liked the house, and Lydia, having someone else living with you made an awful environment for keeping secrets. Like; dragon sized secrets.
"It is good to see you well, my Thane." She bowed slightly out of respect.
"Glad to be back, Lydia." Kian returned the gesture in response.
As she stood back up, Lydia offered a kind smile as she stepped up to the Thane. Kian had stopped trying to rid her of such formalities a long time ago. He had come to find that the woman was a stickler for proper protocol and showing respect for her betters. It was no wonder the Jarl thought her a perfect companion. The Dragonborn found it was easier to just let Lydia get it out of the way so they could move on to more informal interaction.
"Would you like me to take that sack for you, Kian?"
"Oh, by the divines, yes." Kian sighed in relief as he felt the weight slip from his shoulders into Lydia's grasp. "My poor shoulders will never feel the same."
Lydia shook her head as she let the bag rest by the stairs which led to the bedrooms.
"My Thane, if you forgive my rudeness, this is why I should come with you on these sorts of trips. What good of a hero will you be to Skyrim if you develop arthritis and a stoop at age thirty?"
Kian rolled his eyes.
For someone who always insisted on putting sirs and titles in their proper places, she could lay on the nagging and sarcasm when she wanted to.
"Don't worry, mother, it was only another Nordic burial chamber. Nothing I haven't trapesed through thousands of times before. It was just the mountain climbing that gave me a few aches."
Lydia only shook her head disapprovingly.
"It's not a harm to ask those around you for help. It's what I'm here for after all. Your friends can help carry your burdens; no matter how heavy."
Kian froze for a few moments and looked at her, before doubling over in a fit of chuckles.
"Getting a bit serious, aren't we Lydia? I only wanted to go out on my own for a bit; do some easy dungeon crawling, clear my mind, have a little time to myself."
Lydia cast an unsure gaze.
"It's just that… something seems off. You look tense."
Kian stiffened a little at that, before shrugging it off.
"It's nothing major, it's just that all this dragon business has me a bit rattled."
Lydia nodded her head sagely.
"I had a feeling it had something to do with that." She walked up to Kian and placed a hand on his right arm. "I know the legends say that fighting dragons is the Dovakiin's responsibility, but you can't lay all this pressure on yourself. Even the last Dragonborn who fought with them had a team of dragon slayers at his disposal. And you've got the support of the entirety of Whiterun as well."
Kian felt the dragon shift again in his arms, much more violently this time. He jolted back out of her grip, and before Lydia could question him, the Dragonborn bolted up the stairs.
"You know, you're right Lydia, I have been too stressed. I just need to go catch up on some sleep. See you tomorrow!" He rushed out the last few words as he rounded the hall upstairs.
"Wait, what about-!" a door slam split her sentence. "Dinner…"
Kian leaned against the now locked door, breathing harshly and shaking off the momentary panic in his rush upstairs. He sighed heavily and lifted a hand to wipe at his brow. He had to curse Lydia and her prying sometimes; she could layer question after question and you'd never get away. The Dragonborn knew she only asked because she worried so much, but any longer she might have found out about…
With uncertainty in his eyes, Kian slowly uncovered the baby dragon from where it was snuggled in the crook of his elbow, veiled by his traveling cloak. He looked at the dark mass of scales weighing heavily in his grasp, and felt frustration rising up from his gut. He set the dragon down on his bedding with more force than was likely necessary, startling the creature from its rest.
Kian paced up and down the length of his room like a wild sabercat, hands running habitually through his tangles of dark hair while he cursed quietly to himself.
"This is all your fault, you know." He spat harshly, pointing with an accusing finger at the hatchling who was trying to sit up in his bed. "If you hadn't been… Aaugh… and- and fucking…"
He couldn't even place his turmoil into words. It wasn't the dragon's fault; not really. It hadn't led him to that tomb, or lured him inside. It hadn't dictated its hatching to occur right when a Dragonborn would find it… Hell, it was more likely his fault than anything else. What kind of Dragonborn is he? Saving the offspring of an enemy he is sworn to eradicate… It didn't make sense. He's felt nothing but animosity for dragons before; felt no moral qualms about striking them down and taking their souls, but-
Kian stopped and stood frozen like a statue in the center of his quarters, head in his hands while letting out a sigh of frustration and sorrow.
Kurrrrr
The light and airy sound drew Kian's attention towards his bed. There, the small little thing sat against ruffled sheets; wings tucked tight into its sides as it gazed directly at him. Those large, marble like eyes seemed drenched in sympathy and concern as the beast tipped its head from side to side in confusion. It made another little churr that stirred the air, and Kian thought it sounded absolutely heart broken.
All tension left his body, and the Dovakiin wearily stepped over to the side of the mattress. As he sat down, tipping the bed and throwing the small creature off balance, the dark haired adventurer raised a hand and brought it next to the little dragon's head. Once again, it eagerly pressed its mussel into the man's palm, snuggling into his petting while releasing little chirps and purrs. Kian couldn't help but smile as he rubbed his fingers against its throat.
There was no way he could do it. No amount of dragon slaying, monster killing, or battle fighting could get him to raise is hand against a defenseless newborn; fire breathing monster or otherwise. This dragon had done nothing to him. To anyone. It hadn't had the chance to do anything yet. And though Kian knew that it would simply grow into a raging beast like the others, it still felt so unfair, so unjust, that his moral sensibilities recoiled at the thought.
He stopped his stroking of the dragon for a moment, and almost immediately the thing turned its bright red eyes back towards him. Kian smiled again and let out a chuckle.
"Gods be damned, I'm too soft for this."
To the Thane's surprise, the dragon let out a few huffs of air in a pattern that sounded like laughter.
"Glad someone is getting some humor out of this… By the seven, I'm talking to a dragon in my own house."
The dragon only cawed happily in response, before letting out a huge yawn; jaws gaping open to reveal two neat rows of sharp, pointed teeth.
"A bit sleepy are we?" Kian questioned with mirth.
The dragon stretched out like a cat, tail and neck reaching out to their limits before settling back into a more comfortable position. The beast then turned and hopped off the bed corner onto the wooden floor.
"Wait, where are you-?"
It crawled over with the use of its wings towards the lit fireplace along the farthermost wall, and sat before the flames with its head tipped up, letting the heat warm the expanse of its small chest. The fireplace was part of the few luxuries this house had to offer. Very few homes offered second story fire pits, and so the ones that did were naturally more expensive and usually reserved for the well-off in Skyrim.
Kian felt another smirk grace his face, he sure was doing that a lot tonight, and moved to settle on the floor behind the baby dragon.
"You like the heat, huh?" he asked, knowing it wouldn't respond, but wanting to fill the still, and quiet air.
He started running his fingers along the back of the dragon's head where it joined the neck, and the scaly thing let out the longest purr yet as it craned its neck back even farther to push back into Kian's attentions.
With a smile given towards the hatchling's antics, Kian took a moment to actually observe the dragon fully. Its back was covered in thick, dark scales that almost blended in with the night's shadows, while its stomach was covered with pale, creamy colored ones. It was a coloring style he had never seen on the other dragons, and he could only wonder which of them had sired the young one. Its proportions were vastly different from that of a full grown dragon. What would likely someday be a proud set of horns and deadly spikes running down its spine were, at this point, no more than rounded nubs poking slightly out from its scales and head. And speaking of its head, the thing was almost as large as its upper body, and Kian had a hard time believing the beast could actually lift its skull on that skinny neck it sported.
Its clawed toes were oversized compared to its spindly legs, and the hatchling's wings barely reached past its body when tucked. There was no way the thing could lift itself off the ground with that.
"You, my friend, are far from fearsome."
The dragon only tilted its head again, still looking at him upside down. After a moment, the scaly creature turned around and crawled into Kian's lap, wrapping its tail around itself and curling into a ball. Kian sighed again, and went back to running a hand along the back of the small thing. It truly had been a surreal night. A sudden thought sprang to mind.
"Are you a male, or female?" he asked.
The dragon perked up at the sound of the man's voice, but only gave a quiet rurrr in response. Kian nearly slapped himself. Was he losing his mind? The thing couldn't understand him, why was he talking to it so much?
"Right. Sorry if I'm being rude, but…" Kian flipped the dragon onto its back, and the thing let out a few squeals of protest. "Hm… alright, a boy."
He righted the dragon at last, and lifted it so both man and beast were at eye level with each other. If Kian wasn't questioning his sanity at this point, he would say the dragon was definitely looking at him with annoyance sparkling in those huge, ruby eyes.
"Well… I suppose I need something to call you, yes? Just saying dragon all the time is going to get confusing. Not to mention, boring."
Kian thought for a moment, head leaning from side to side as ideas bounced around in his head. The dragon copied him with an amused look, as if they were playing a game. Meanwhile, the Dragonborn was tossing around letters and syllables, trying to conger up something suitable. It should sound somewhat intimidating. Serious at the least. He wasn't naming a dragon something inane like Meeko or Stump. But the last thing he wanted was something complex and hard to pronounce, he'd had enough of some of these dragon's mouthful names. After a time, Kian jumped up suddenly with an exclamation, lifting the dragon high into the air above him.
"I've got it! I shall call you Scarn!"
The newly named dragon scrawed happily, just as excited as the Dragonborn, but unsure as to why.
A loud knock at the door startled the dark haired man, and in a flurry of rushed movement, he tossed Scarn down onto his bed and covered him from sight with a sheet, ignoring the dragon's squawk of protest.
"My Thane? Are you all right?" Lydia's voice came, slightly muffled, through the door.
"Ah, yes! Yes, I'm just fine Lydia, do you need something?"
"No, sir, I simply heard you shouting from downstairs and wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."
"Everything's fine, Lydia, I just… stubbed my food against the bed… again." Kian heard a quiet scoff coming from outside.
"You and that bed seem to have animosity brewing."
"Mm, perhaps I should challenge it to a duel. Settle our score once and for all!" The Dovakiin joked, picking up the trail of a long running joke between them. He heard Lydia's laughter from beyond the door.
"Well, I brought up a tray of food for you. I had some stew and bread cooked up quickly; I know you haven't eaten since you left this morning."
Now, Kian moved to open the door and speak to his friend and comrade face to face.
"What do you mean? I eat just fine." An eye roll was her only response.
"Yes, I'm sure you remembered to have lunch today and didn't just keep riding straight towards the outskirts of Skyrim."
Kian took a moment to look offended, before a growling stomach interrupted the bickering pair. A look was exchanged, before both broke out into peals of laughter.
"Well, I guess that speaks for itself." Kian chuckled good humoredly.
"Yes, indeed." Lydia handed the tray off to him. The bowl of warmed liquid smelled like heaven to the adventurer's empty stomach. "Have a good night, my Thane."
Lydia gave another bow before retiring to her own room across the hall. Kian shut the door with a relived sigh, and sat heavily down on the bed. An indignant squeak caught his attention, and the Dragonborn hurried to dig Scorn out of the pile of bed clothes he was buried under.
"Apologies, there. I had forgotten all about you for a second."
The little dragon gave him a look of annoyance, and stuck its tongue out in retaliation.
"Hey now, I'm taking you into my home and bed, and this is how you treat me?" he ended with a good natured smile.
The dragon had now become enraptured with the tray perched on Kian's lap. Sniffing at the air, Scarn cautiously crept forward towards the bowl, his eyes flickering up towards the Imperial's face as he approached. For a moment, the Dovakiin was confused, until he remembered this was still a wild animal he was housing.
"Are you worried I'll take this from you, little thing? Ha, if I wasn't going to feed you, I wouldn't have brought you home."
The man pushed the stew bowl towards the edge of the tray, and Scarn eagerly stuck his face into the soup, gulping down large mouthfuls of the mixture and every so often, stopping to chew on a large hunk of rabbit floating around the bowl. Kian lifted a spoon and joined in, quelling his own hunger in the process.
As the night reached its peak, Kian set the now empty food tray on the floor, deciding to bring it down stairs in the morning. Skyrim's greatest hero ditched his armor, as well as his stiff and dirty tunic, splashed his face with water from a dish sitting on his dresser, and at last crawled into his warm, comfy bed. As he leaned over to blow out the remaining candle, the Dovakiin felt movement beneath the bed sheets. Scarn snuggled up against the adventurer's side, and with a look of warm fondness, Kian laid himself down, tucking the sheets around himself and his dragon.
Tomorrow would certainly be hell; the Dragonborn was sure of that. But those Oblivion gates could be opened once the sun was up. And when he wasn't so tired.