I am trying my hand at his again after many years. A rouge plot bunny that just keeps on coming back. This has not been edited by anyone but me. This is a prequel in a sense to a greater story, that is still in my mind. The segments containing individual interactions do not have defined time of occurrence. All I can say is that they occur before the events of the first episode.

There is no specific parings as of right now and certain deaths that occurred in canon will still occur, but the exact manner will not be the same. Also as this is FF, expect some characters to undergo personality changes, some can be due to having different things happening to them, whilst others will have experience a more forced personality change due to single traumatic events.

The Dragonborn in this story is modeled to my play style of the game. I will try to remove his general overpoweredness as the story progress, making him more multidimensional and not just a 2D Gary Stu. I am open to suggestion on how i can do this, so vices and personality quirks that I can add to him will be nice.

Bjorn, a man barely into his second decade of life looked out onto skyrim from the throat of the world. From up here it seemed so peaceful as if the war going on below him was nothing more than single drop in a vast ocean. After the defeat of Alduin the Elves did not wait long before they attacked again. Bjorn fought in this war, but after witnessing the destruction he had caused he decided to retreat to the peak of the mountain where his mentor Paarthurnax once lived. In his last battle he dealt a crippling blow to the Aldemeri Dominion.

Bjorn acting on his own attacked the Summest Isle. It was not a bloody affair as he did not go in Bound Swords swinging and he used only a single shout. The shout was the one the first one he had learned. He fueled it with his anger and hatred for the Thalamor, his wish for the war to just end, he honed this rage and hate with an Elder Scroll consuming it as he would do with a dragons soul, the power was overwhelming, his entire body vibrating from the great influx of power. His voice had ripped the sea apart. It shattered stone and turned wood to dust. Life on the Isle was removed from existence, in the wake of the supernaturally powered shock-wave, nothing survived and the Isle became a wasteland. With three single words of power he had committed the greatest act of genocide ever recorded in the history of Tamriel.

He knew the Divines were not happy with him. He did not care. He renounced all worship of them when his parents were killed, even the worship of Talos. The energy given to him by the Elder Scroll he had absorbed had all but left him. He was now as he was before consuming it, a man with the soul and heart of a dragon, but unknown to him it had changed something fundamental to his being. Mortals were not meant to wield the power of the scrolls, so the scroll changed him to something which could.

Bjorn felt a presence behind him, he turned slowly. The figure was bathed in light, it lacked a solid form but it radiated divine light and authority, from this alone he knew it was not one of the princes but one of The Nine.

"Dovakhiin, your actions have tilted the balance." The figure's voice was deep, Bjorn could hear and feel it in his mind simultaneously, it spoke with such power that Bjorn had to fight the urge to bow down before it.

"If mortals were not meant to wield the power of the gods, then the gods should not have left their trinkets lying about." Bjorn answered defiantly

"Nonetheless, your actions have shifted the scales; the balance of the realms is at risk. Had you been a normal mortal I would have struck you down, with the same amount of remorse that you should when you destroyed the Summerset Isle. You are not however a normal mortal. You are Ysmir, The Dragon of The North. You are also my last child, not of my flesh but of soul."

Bjorn was stunned when he realized who he was talking to. "Akatosh"

"Yes, child, that is my name."

"So what is my fate then?"

"As I said earlier death would have come swiftly to you, but you are my child and all parents want nothing but the best for their children, I can no more kill you than I can kill Alduin. The other divines called for your head, I over ruled them, as there also lies some fault with us. Your fate is that of exile. Today marks the last day you will be on this world. When the sun breaches the horizon tomorrow, Nirn, will forever be lost to you."

"It is a fitting punishment… I deserve no less, however please sate my curiosity and tell me where I am to be sent?"

Akatosh gave a bemused laugh. "Always the curious one, it is a world much like this one, but the divines have no power there. It is a world where the race of man rules. Magic is rare and obscure and the horrors of this world barely exist there."

"What of this world, what of Skyrim?"

"The war will come to an end within a fortnight. Peace will reign for the next three thousand years. You shall be remembered in history as the man who doomed himself to save the future."

"What can I take with me? Am I to enter this new world with naught but the cloths on my back?" Bjorn was a bit stressed; he didn't want to start over again, like when he was caught by the Imperials in that ambush.

"You shall be allowed to take nothing but the clothes on your back and the gold you own."

"Akatosh I thank thee, though I had renounced you, yet you still saved my life. I would not say remorseful for my actions, I know them to be wrong but someone had to do it. Maybe in this new world I can be a force of good without leaving a trail of death and destruction behind me."

"In this new world you will not be forced to follow a prophecy. Live your life as you wish. I will give you this final gift my son." A golden beam shot out from Akatosh and struck Bjorn in his chest. "Your actions with the Elder Scroll made you a demi-god; you shall not die of mortal shortcomings until you choose to. This will let you choose companion to spend your life with until you decided to leave the world of the living. Goodbye my child for this will be the last time we meet."

"Farewell, Akatosh…Father."

After those words Akatosh vanished, leaving Bjorn alone on the mountain top again. Bjorn looked out onto Skyrim again, a smile now on his face. The world will be okay. He returned back to his cave. Magelight flared up as he entered. He slowly dressed himself in his armor. The Deadric plates extremely heavy yet to him it was a reassuring weight. Each piece was in immaculate condition.

He wielded no weapons however, favoring instead to just conjure his weapons from the planes of oblivion. He took all his gold, which after his adventures equated to a rather substantial amount, yet it defies the laws of nature by fitting into a single coin pouch. He then prepared his last meal eating in silence and contemplating the new world he would be sent to.

After his meal he journeyed down to High Hrothgar. The sun had set and the darkness of the moonless night had completely enveloped him. His final act as dragon born was to impart all his knowledge he had acquired into a scroll, in a manner similar to how he was taught by the greybeards. He left it for them to find. While their understandings of specific words were greater than his, his overall knowledge of the language dwarfed theirs.

He returned to his look out at the summit. He sat down his legs hanging over the edge. His stomach was doing flips. He could see the far off glow of the sun starting to reach the horizon. The sunrise was beautiful, bards would lament on about the vibrant glow of the sun. In a single instant Bjorn could see all of Skyrim in front of him; he saw his home for the last time, in all its natural splendor.

To an onlooker Bjorn started to glow as the rays of sunlight hit him. The light he was emitting matching the sun as it rose, his armor losing its physical appearance becoming ghostly blue, like a bound weapon. At its apex a single pulse emitted from Bjorn and he was gone.

Eddard –Ned – Stark, Lord of Winterfell and head of House Stark, was out hunting with two eldest sons, Jon and Robb. He was hoping that there would be a greater love between them. But there seemed to be none, this was due to Robb, having adopted his mother's cool attitude towards Jon. It pained Ned that his children did not get along, family was always important to him.

There was movement in the underbrush and a boar charged out, ignoring them, completely. The boar was not the only animal to do this, within moment's dear, squirrels, birds and a multitude of other small animals that called the woods their home rushed past them. It was not in a mad panic as if there was a forest fire, rather they were just startled and wished to get way from whatever startled them.

His curiosity peaked he walked in the direction from which all the animals were running from. His sons followed, arrows notched but bows not drawn. They walked about a hundred yards where upon they came across a clearing. A figure stood there kneeling on his one leg and arm, panting slightly. A twig snapped underneath Ned's boot. The figure looked up. He was wearing demonic looking armour that seemed ghost like in nature, glowing a soft blue and slightly transparent. He stood slowly his hands in a non-threatening position. The figure was tall, taller than any man Ned had seen in the last decade. The figure slowly raised his hands to his head and removed his helm. Upon doing so the armour seemed to fade from him, leaving only a young man dressed in dark blue.

The quality of the clothes was a good indicator that this was not some sell sword. Ned was surprised to see the armour vanish completely. The young man looked up. Blue eyes met his brown eyes, and through some silent contract, Ned lowered his bow, however he did not remove his arrow.

"State your name stranger," commanded Ned, now in his full capacity as Lord of Winterfell.

"I am Bjorn Svenson. Who are you?" replied the now identified Bjorn.

"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, these are my sons, Robb stark and Jon Snow. What is your business here?"

"My intentions are peaceful, but they are of mine own, if that is what you are inquiring, where am I?"

"You are currently in the Wolfswood. A few miles from Winterfell, which lies in the North."

"I thank you for your rather informative answer but I am still lost, as I am a stranger to these lands. Would it be possible for me to accompany you to this Winterfell, where I might be able to look upon a map?" At this point in the conversation Robb and Jon had moved closer to their father to get a better look at the stranger.

"A man of unknown origin and power is not someone I will allow into my keep so easily."

"I would give you my word that I mean you and your kin no harm, if I do harm them, I will kneel so that you may separate my head from my shoulders, for what is a man if he does not honour his word." Bjorn gave a reassuring smile, "What is it you and your sons are hunting?"

"We were hunting a bit of wild game, but I think you have scared away all game in a few miles."

"I apologize, I had no control over my arrival here. The Nine were rather swift when judgment had been passed, but again I would prefer banishment to a death sentence."

"The Nine?" asked Ned, curious about his seemingly powerful group.

"The Nine Divines, the gods and goddesses who created Nirn, my home world. They banished me for using their power. They have no power here and I can never return home."

"What had you done to deserve such a harsh punishment?"

"My home was at war, the civil war had barely ended when the Thalamor, Elves, attacked with brutal efficiency. I acted alone using an ancient artefact left behind by the gods to destroy the home of the Thalamor. My actions killed thousands if not millions, but many times more would have died if the war went on any longer. Mortals are not meant to wield the power of the gods, in an act of mercy the king of the gods, spared my life and banished me instead."

"You do realise that story makes me no more willing to allow you to enter Wintefell."

"Worry not Lord Stark, I do not seek war, the power I used was not mine to begin with and it is no longer within my ability to use."

"I will take you to Winterfell, but we are on a hunt, and something must be caught." Though weary of the stranger, Bjorn did look like someone who kept his word. Ned's gut was telling him he could trust this person

"Very well, let us hunt." Bjorn then raised his hand it glowed purple and an ethereal bow appeared in his hand, the same time as a quiver full of arrows appeared on his back. Ned, Jon and Robb all gave a collective jump at the act of magic. "What? Do you not have magic here?"

By Nightfall, the four returned to Winterfell, a rather large boar rested on Bjorn's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Bjorn was rather happy he had come across Eddard and his sons. Had he not he would have walked aimlessly around the woods, for days before he found someone. Robb and Jon were weary of him at first but after Bjorn had taken the boar down with a single arrow, their curiosity was peaked.

"So you mean to say, you don't use any real weapons, you just make them with this magic?" asked Jon.

"Yes, I can do much more than just make swords and bows, but I think your father would be a bit more nervous if I started throwing ice and fire around."

"Could you teach us?" asked Robb

"I could if your father allows. I learned it because I never wanted to be without a weapon. What say you Lord Stark." Ned who had been silent on the way back, more absorbed in his own thoughts, but still listening to the conversation between Jon, Robb and Bjorn.

"I would allow it, but I wish to be present, since it is a skill that I would like to learn as well."

"But father you are too old," said Robb.

"One is never too old to learn magic for it requires nothing more than a sound mind and the power of will. I will teach you then. It will be hard though, magic is dangerous and it can run rampant and out of control if you are not careful."

They approached the gates of Winterfell which was held open for them. "You were gone longer than we expected my lord," said one of the watchmen.

"We had a few interesting developments. Bjorn you can hand the boar to those men."

Bjorn did so, the men he hand the boar to struggled a bit, not expecting it to be so heavy, due to the ease with which Bjorn handled it. Robb and Jon went off to the too their respective rooms, to clean themselves and change for dinner.

Bjorn remained in Winterfell after that fateful encounter, finding the Starks to be the family he had lost. At first people were intimidated by his presence, but soon they learned he was like a sleeping bear, he was no threat to you unless you angered him. The Lady Catelyn Stark, did not like him at all at first. However she warmed up to him when he fixed Bran's broken arm when he fell off his horse on his first lesson. Bjorn slowly integrated into the daily running of Winterfell.

The Stark children of WInterfell, adopted Bjorn unofficially as an older brother and he adopted them as his own kin in his heart, he watched them grow older, stronger and smarter, feeling great pride in his role in their development. He taught them his skills. The magic he taught was kept secret from outsiders. It would be something known only to the members of House Stark. However it would not remain a secrete forever.

Bjorn did not display his magic frivolously; however he did not hide it. If a situation ever occurred where magic was needed, Bjorn did not hesitate to use it. His proficiency was in Conjuration, Destruction, Illusion, Restoration, Marksmanship, One-Handed weaponry and Alchemy. He also had skill in enchanting and armour smithing, only due to him having to repair his own armour, but they were minor skills at best and since his armor was now bound armor, he doubted he would use said smithing skill much. His greatest hidden skill was his ability to go undetected. He could sneak through a room of people and no one would notice him.

Bjorn was helping Bran with his archery; Bran was using a bow made for someone of his size, while an ethereal bow was in the hands of Bjorn. "Bran, watch your left arm, otherwise the draw sting will give you a bruise and I will not heal it again."

"Will do, Bjorn," Bran said as he adjusted his left arm slightly. He took a breath and aimed at the centre of the target. The bow made a twang as he released it the arrow sailing through the air. It struck just off centre of the target.

"Not bad, but I know you can do better." Said Bjorn in the time it took Bran to blink, Bjorn had notched and arrow as well as released it. The ethereal arrow sailed silently through the air. It did not strike the centre, but had split Bran's arrow down the middle of the shaft. "I will leave today's lesson with that. The day after tomorrow we will have a lesson again."

"Bjorn, when will you teach me magic?"

"Bran, I cannot answer that question at this moment. You possess a power inside you, something that the gods of this world have granted you, I do not know what it is but it's something special. It is this power which makes your connection to magic narrow. There is something I might be able to teach you but your need to be older. I will have a list of words for you by our next lesson."

"Sansa, you have come far. There is three more spells I can teach you. If you can do these spell I will call you a master in the arts of Destruction. From there it would be up to you to make your own spells."

Sansa beamed at the praise, being the oldest of the female Stark children she knew she had a certain place in society, and if push came to shove, she would be married to some lord to improve a political tie regardless of what her father promised her. However Bjorn treated her differently. When he was teaching her, she was not Sansa Stark. She was just Sansa, the adopted little sister of Bjorn.

He had started teaching her when she was very young. He taught her two schools of magic, destruction and illusion respectively. When she asked him why, he told her that, she was the eldest Stark daughter. One day she would be someone's wife, or even queen if she were to marry the son of the king. "The art of illusion will make you undefeated in a battle of words, where you can turn someone into a sobbing mess with a mere wave of your hand. The art of destruction will make you feared by your enemies, and instead of a sobbing mess a wave of the hand could make someone a bloody smear on the ground." She did not like the strange glint that was in his eyes as he spoke of how she could end someone.

A thing that Bjorn kept silent about was that Sansa had one of the largest untrained and untapped Magicka reserves that he had ever seen, the closest one to here raw potential was her half-brother Jon. He would not be surprised if she had the largest reserves of Magicka in the whole country. Her timid nature however kept her from reaching her full potential.

"Are you sure I am ready?" She asked tentatively. Bjorn gave a reassuring smile and unexpectedly pulled her into a hug. Sansa enjoyed his hugs. Another thing she liked about him was that he didn't stink, ever. He bathed regularly and took great pride in being clean. He smelled of wintergreen, which he claimed was one of the few herbs powerful enough to purge the smell of his alchemy from him.

"Little sister, if I did not think you ready of this power I would not have offered to teach you. Come, I found a rocky out crop where I want to show you the spells I want to teach you."

They rode for an hour by horse through the Wolfswood, until they came upon a clearing with a strange rock formation in the middle; the rocks were arranged in a spiral patter, getting taller and thicker as they spun to the center. The middle stone was roughly five meters in the air and two meters across. The air was brimming with a natural yet supernatural energy, both could feel it. Unbeknownst to both of them the clearing represented a place where two ley lines intersected.

"Do we need to get to the top of that?" asked Sansa

"Yes we do little sister. Come we are burning daylight." The climb up was not difficult. The stones were worn smooth by time and the gradual difference in height made it akin to climbing stairs.

"Now, Sansa, I will be showing you the three most powerful spells that have been created. They are known respectively as the spells of Fire Storm, Blizzard and Lightning Storm."

Sansa gulped at the manic grin that now adorned Bjorn's face.

Robb was not in the greatest of moods as of late. The reason for this was that his youngest sister Arya was now training with him under Bjorn. It all started because he bad mouthed Arya saying that girls had no place on the battle field and should not be taught the skills of a swordsman, when she had asked to be taught as well. That remark had gotten him a frim smack against the back of the head courtesy of Bjorn. Currently he was sparing against her. He was using a normal sword since he had little skill in conjuration, whilst Arya was fighting with a bound sword.

He might have been stronger than her by many degrees, but her speed with the weightless weapon made her deadly and he had already received a few cuts all over. "Okay that is enough." Steal met ether with a hollow clang and both combatants disengaged. "I am impressed with both of you. Robb what have learned from all of this?"

"Never under estimate an opponent, speed combined with precision will win every time against brute force." Robb's hand started glowing in a yellow white light and his wounds or rather cuts started healing. Though he had no skill in conjuration, he was quite gifted in the art of restoration, something he accepted grudgingly; he would have preferred to be able to summon swords out of nowhere or rain down ice and fire on his foes, but no his skills were in restoration and alchemy.

"Good, good. Arya what did you learn?"

"I learned that you are a slave driver for one," Bjorn just gave her a bemused look, "And that blocking blows head on is stupid if you are my size." Arya had a skill for non-animated conjuration, being able to summon any weapon she wanted from Oblivion, she also had some skill for destruction and illusion but not the level that Sansa possessed.

Jon Snow had always felt as an outcast. The bastard son of Ned, he was never truly accepted by the majority of his half siblings. Of all of Ned's children, Bjorn had had the biggest impact on him. He looked up to him a lot more than he did to his own father. Jon showed an aptitude for conjuration, same as his half-sister, Arya, except his was in the ability to bring forth creatures and familiars from the Oblivion realms. He favoured summing the flame and frost atronach. He had achieved his dual summoning mastery only a year prior. His skill in destruction was nearly as great as Sansa's but it was limited to frost magics.

"Bjorn… what would you think of me taking the black?"

Though not a northerner by birth Bjorn knew what taking the black meant. He did not answer immediately. He was pensive for a few moments. Thinking about how he would phrase his opinion. "I can tell this has been on your mind for a while. My honest opinion would be to say do not join the Knights Watch. You have skills and power that will make a name for yourself. You will be able to serve the realm much better if you were not restricted to the wall. That said your presence at the wall will be a great boon to them. I think the best option for you is to join them on an unofficial basis. Maybe I can take you as an apprentice and then send you to the wall as part of your training."

The members of House Stark were seated at the dining table including Jon, Measter Luwin and Bjorn. The atmosphere was somber. A raven had arrived from KingsLanding informing them of the death of Lord Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King and a man who was a surrogate father to Ned. This was followed by the news that the King and a whole entourage of people were travelling on the Kings road towards Winterfell. Everyone was eating in silence. The children were all containing some level of excitement because they now each had their own pet, dire wolf pups. Bjorn decided to break the silence and cleared his throat.

"I have been in Winterfell for nearly a decade. I have grown to love all of you as the family I had lost many years ago. I have taught you all many things, I have also learned a lot. However, I have not been completely honest with you all. My past is much darker than I have made it seem and I feel you all deserve to know the truth."

"Whatever it is, you can tell us, for we will not judge you, you are family in all but blood. I myself have done some horrible things in the war." Ned's statement summed up everyone's thoughts, except for the war part.

"As you all know this land is not the land of my birth. I come from another world entirely, one ruled by The Nine. My home country is called Skyrim, its weather much like the north, just the winters last longer, almost permanent in some places and it is much colder, which is why you rarely see me warming myself in front of a hearth.

When I was but a child barely in my tenth year of life, my family was murdered by the Thalamor for their worship of the god Talos. For ten years after their death I drifted around Skyrim, I learned tricks here and there to allow me to survive. When I was about nineteen, I was capture in an ambush by the opposite faction of the civil war, a case of mistaken identity as I was not on any side in particular.

I was due for execution without a trail and as my head rested on the chopping block, a great black dragon appeared. His appearance saved my life and allowed me to escape.

In Skyrim, dragons are natural calamities. They are proud and powerful they had enslaved the race of man and ruled with cruelty. Eventually we stood up to our oppressors and killed them all… or so we thought. The Leader of the dragons, Alduin the World Eater, was not killed, and since he would bring about the end of the world, could not be killed. My ancestors flung Alduin 4000 years into the future.

Back in present time Skyrim then entered the Dragon Crisis due to his return. Dragons long thought dead and buried were being brought back to life by Alduin. Only a dragon can truly kill a dragon, for the looser forfeits his soul to the victor in a fight to the death, if not the dragon would live again if summoned by a stronger dragon. I found out when I slayed my first dragon and had absorbed its soul and power that I was Dragonborn, or Dovahkiin, a mortal with the soul and power of a dragon. The ultimate dragon slayer for one felled by my blade would never rise again.

Alduin met his end again with the aid of the great heroes of the past. With the Dragon Crisis now over, I rushed head first into the civil war. I was a beast in battle, they called me Ysmir, The Dragon of the North, for I fought with the same ferocity and power as that possessed by the dragons I had slayed.

My actions after the war caused my banishment. As you know I used the power of the gods to destroy the home of the Thalamor. That power was an Elder Scroll, the power of the gods were not meant to be wielded by the hands of a mortal, so the scroll change me when I used its power, I became something in-between a man and a god. A demi-god is what Akatosh, the king of the gods, called me. I could only die at my own hand. So the standard punishment for mortals could not be applied to me.

My actions had upset the balance and the only way to restore the balance was to remove me from the scale all together. My removal from Nirn is what caused me to arrive here"

The dining hall was deathly quiet. No one spoke everyone was contemplating this in their heads. It was Sansa, the most timid of the Stark children who spoke first.

"How strong are you now?" was all that she asked

"I have read your history, I am on the same level as those three dragons used by the Targaryens during their conquest of Westeros. However I am most likely stronger since I am smarter and can use magic."

"Are you going to leave us?" asked Rickon, his voice filled with childlike fear. He was the only Stark child to have not received any training from Bjorn simply because he was still too young

"No, Rickon, I have taken quite a liking to you all, you are like the siblings that I never had."

That seemed to ease the tension that had built up. Ned was a bit weary of Bjorn again, if even just a grain of what he said was true, Bjorn could change the tide of a battle on his own. If not win it on his own entirely.

"Why tell us this now?" ask Ned

"My gut is telling me that a cold dark winter is coming. I would rather there not be secretes between us. The arrival of the King dose not sit right with me."