Sartyl's POV
The next morning I woke up in the arms of someone I had just met, but in all honesty it felt like we'd known each other our entire lives. Nothing felt more right than laying here, wrapped in the arms of Marcurio. Light was pouring in from the small window far above our heads. I dare not move in fear of waking the peaceful mage.
Marcurio's POV
I felt her jolt awake and then relax once more. Her back was pressed gently against my chest and her arms had grabbed mine. Something about this moment just felt ... right. Soon she would "wake" me and we'd head off to wherever she wanted to go. By the Divines I never wanted to let her go. We'd only just met and soon this embrace would end and we'd both become simply a noble and her mercenary. But I would follow her into Oblivion.
Sartyl's POV
It was beyond time to get up. I carefully slipped out of Marcurio's arms and into my armor. I fastened my sword and sheath to my hip and tightened my cuirass. Threw my pack over my shoulder and nudged Marcurio awake. He moaned a little bit, but agreed to get up.
Finally, we were headed to Bleakfalls Barrow. Marcurio and I caught a carriage to Whiterun and walked from there. Bandits had made their way inside. I let Marcurio handle them. The may be Bandits, and have nothing to lose, butthey were still humans. Marcurio and I fell victim to traps, pressure plates and the mystery of the ancient crypt.
As we crept farther into the crumbling tomb, we were faced with the ancestors of my people. Draugr. I'd heard of them. Stories. Legends. Books. I never believed any of it to be true. Not before now, anyway. Marcurio made several comments toward being well versed in ancient Nord history.
I did not speak out of fear of a cave in our waking draugr, Marcurio minded not however.
Killing the draugr was hard at first. I couldn't separate them from human. It wasn't until I convinced myself I was doing good by killing them, that it became easier.
Finally Marcurio and I made it through the spikes, poison darts, pressure-plate-activated-spiked-doors, and dragon claw doors and walked into a large cistern.
I stood in the doorway for a moment and scoped out the room from the doorway.
A soft chant came from a curved wall-like structure in the center of the room. It was covered in strange markings unlike any I'd seen before.
An ancient coffin lay in front of the wall. An old Nord chest lay at the end of the coffin. I walked closer to the chest, but a strange, blue light came from the chanting wall inviting me closer. I walked toward the wall and the chants got louder. There was a word burning bright blue; I could see it even when I closed my eyes. The sound "Fus" echoed through my mind until it changed to "push."
Scared of this I jumped back from the wall. I stumble backwards over the stairs to the chest and coffin , bumping into the corner of the coffin.
The impact knocked the breath out of me. The coffin began to quiver. I, instinctively, drew my sword. The lid flew off and a draugr with two black horns on his helmet emerged.
The draugr swung his blade with might unmatched by the other draugr I'd faced. I dodged his first blow and Marcurio through Chain Lightning spells that affected me as well.
I swung my blade and the undead ancestor dodged it. He swung and swung. I tried to hit the draugr and succeeded less than I failed. Marcurio had switched to a fireball spell that appeared to be effecting the draugr greatly.
I was going in for one final, killing blow, when the draugr interrupted it with a power blow with the flat portion of his blade. I felt my ribs crack and my breath leave me. I staggered immensely. Marcurio yelled something I didn't understand. I regained balance and, with aching ribs, swung hopelessly. I missed. The draugr cut my upper thigh. I swung and missed. The tip of the ancient blade of the draugr nipped my cheek. Had Marcurio run out of magicka? I swung and hit, but it was a fleshwound. I swung again and the draugr dodged and slammed my head into the coffin. I turned myself over. The draugr was standing over me and gave a maniacal, rasping laugh that was barely audible over the ringing in my ears. He drew his blade over his head. I closed my eyes and pleaded to the Divines, to Talos, and to Shor. I braced myself for the blow that never came. After a while, I opened my eyes to find the ancestor dead once more. Marcurio was on his knees beside me saying something, but all I heard was a sharp ringing.
Marcurio's POV
I delivered one last fireball to the draugr. He fell over and his blade clanged against the stone floor of the cistern. Sartyl had her eyes closed tight. I rushed over to her.
"Sartyl!" She finally opened her eyes. Blood had coated her face and neck, soaking into the neck of her cuirass. Blood began to pool around her left thigh. The Imperial soldier cuirass she wore was easy enough toraise in order to inspect the damage.
The cut was deep. I noticed the blood that had splattered across the stone floor and the blood that covered her leg now.
"Sartyl, listen! Can you hear me?!" Panic rose quickly in my voice. Her eyes were a mix of confusion and exhaustion.
I repeatedly asked if she could her me and then, finally, "Yes, I can, now." Her voice was weak.
"Will you let me heal you? Please?"
I pleaded with her.
"No, no. I'm fine, Marcurio. Honestly. See, watch." Sartyl drew her legs slowly up against her body and gingerly placed her hands on the coffin. She winced and began to get up. She stifled a whimper as she rose to her feet.
"See, I'm fine." Her voice was a bit stronger. Then she looted the draugr and grabbed some large stone from it's pack and looted the chest.
Inside was a Plentiful Healing Potion. She yanked the cork out and chugged it like it was air and she was suffocating.
I have to say, as foolish as her stubbornness at this moment was, I admired her for her independence and valor. She stuffed the rest of the things into her pack.
Sartyl's POV
The potion healed my cheek and had begun numbing my ribs and thigh. My neck and leg were hot and sticky with blood, I needed to wash it off.
Marcurio was watching me very closely as we climbed the stairs to the exit of Bleakfalls Barrow. My leg still ached slightly. But soon enough we would find a pond or creek.
As I emerged out of the exit, I took a handful of snow and rubbed it to my thigh, hoping to numb it further.
Marcurio and I headed down the mountain to Whiterun once more.
We were almost to the gates. Then I remembered there was a creek that ran just outside of the gates of Whiterun proper. I turned around, headed towards the creek.
I washed off my leg first, out of mere convenience. Then I washed my face and neck and left for Dragonsreach. I entered the gates of Whiterun. Chugged one more potion and bolted throught the city up the stairs of the castle and into the doors of Dragonsreach.
Farengar was discussing something with a woman in leather armor when I walked in and slammed the Dragonstone tablet onto his desk. He seemed surprised that I had returned.
Farengar also commented on how I walked with a limp and winced when I moved my right arm. He offered healing, but I told him I could handle myself. Irileth the Jarl's dunmer housecarl came running into the wizard's study and demanded to see both him and I at once. I lagged behind a bit and finally took the time to concentrate on a healing spell and healed myself.
Then without second thought I bolted up the stairs to where Farengar and Irileth ran. Jarl Balgruuf said there was a dragon attacking the Northern Watchtower and that since I was at Helgen I should go as well.
By the time Marcurio and I got there the dragon could no longer fly. The Whiterun guard meant business.
This dragon had bronze scales. His head was decorated with wicked horns and gruelling spikes. Larger spikes trailed down his back and ended in a spade-like tail.
I put in a few arrows and sword slashes. Then the dragon collapsed with a defeated roar. His once proud bronze scales were littered with thick blood and broken arrows.
The dragon looked me in the eye. I heard an ancient voice say "Dovahkiin" in my mindspace just like in my nightmare.
I froze. Marcurio yanked me back and saved me from the dragon's scorching flame breath.
The dragon died. The guards began to rejoice.
The skin of the dragon began to bake and crackle and seemingly lift off it's body. Then white-gold light encircled me. The sound of wind filled my ears, even as the air was dead. The light that circled me drew into my being and filled me with a fire-like sensation. My bones felt stronger and my blood warmer. I could her the song of the ancient warriors in my head, but it felt real. My vision blurred momentarily and then came back stronger than ever.
"I don't believe it! You're... Dragonborn," wondered a thick Nord accent from behind me.
"I'm... what?"
"Dragonborn. You know the only human alive that can devour-"
"A dragon's soul. Yeah I know," I finished. "I suppose that IS what I did... But why?"
"It's said that the Dragonborn is a master in the way of the Voice. Is it true? Can you Shout for us, Dragonborn?" The Nord's persistence was admirable. But how did I Shout?
I took a deep breath and out came "Fus" and the guards (and Marcurio) fell back.
"Then it's true. You ARE Dragonborn."
Without another word, I spun on my heel and began walking to Whiterun. Balgruuf needed to know the dragon was dead. As Marcurio and I approached the stables a thunderous sound came from High Hrothgar. Then an omnious "Dov-ah-kiin" rang through the cloud and shook the ground beneath me causing me to lose my foothold and stagger. My leg gave out and I began to fall but Marcurio caught me.
"Thanks," I said as I brushed off bloody, tattered cuirass.
"It's not a problem." He stared at me intently. His eyes in torchlight were magnificent. The flickering light highlighted his cheekbones perfectly.
We needed to get to the Jarl. I bought two rooms in the Bannered Mare and offered Marcurio the choice to head on to bed. He refused. So we both ran up to Dragonsreach. Jarl Balgruuf granted me the title of Thane and told me I best head to High Hrothgar.