A/N:

Soooo I'm sorta new to this fandom so I hope you all like this! It's definitely not an original idea, but what can I say. I'm a sucker for these types of fics and there don't seem to be too many modern-day-people-falling-into-Skyrim type stories so I thought… what the heck, I'll write my own! Just for fun and to see if I can! :)

Jackie had never been too fond of camping, but that weekend, the peer pressure from her outdoors-obsessed roommates had finally gotten to her. Reluctantly, she had bought a sleeping bag and trekked out into the wilderness (aka the forest just outside of their city) with the female equivalents of Bear Grylls and Les Stroud.

In her opinion, there were many, many downfalls to being in the Great Outdoors. She had to admit, though, that s'mores almost made the experience worth it, and even the food cooked over the campfire had a special quality-like something magical had happened to make it tastier than usual. The air out in the woods was cleaner than in the city, and the trees smelled heavenly. Pitching the tent with her friends had actually been fun and so had gathering wood for the campfire, if not for the pleasant company she had. If she hadn't considered herself such a city slicker, she may have even enjoyed the experience, bugs and all.

She could almost get into camping… if it weren't for the fact that one generally had to pee outside.

Jackie had tried to avoid it, but the call of nature was stronger than her desire for a clean bathroom. It was the middle of the night when she finally peeked her head outside of the tent and wandered outside in search of a little privacy. She guessed she could count herself lucky since it was basically the middle of nowhere.

After a few uncomfortable but relieving seconds she finished and began the journey back to the tent. She'd definitely need to snuggle up with her roommates for warmth after this. But as she ambled back to their campsite, tired and half-blind with sleep, she began to worry that she was lost.

"Noooo…" she groaned, shutting her eyes and leaning up against a nearby tree. She was way too sleepy to deal with being lost. She heaved a sigh and hugged her thick flannel jacket a little tighter around her shoulders, tucking the roll of toilet paper she'd taken with her into an oversized pocket.

"Jenny," she called, knowing that the campsite couldn't be too far away. "Emma? I'm lost," she tried again, hoping to wake her friends. "I know you're asleep but you guys should come find me before a bear does!" Actually, was that something she needed to worry about? Were there bears in these parts? "Ugh," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. This was why she hated camping.

A rustling noise came from her left and she turned, squinting her eyes into the dark of the forest. "Jen?"

More rustling. Those footsteps were too heavy to belong to either of her petite roommates.

"Who's there?" an accented male voice called.

She froze. This didn't seem right. Had there been a campsite nearby that she hadn't noticed? Were there other campers that they hadn't been aware of? She thought that they were way out in the middle of nowhere, but could they have been trespassing on private property?

"Show yourself," the voice demanded. A terrifying thought struck her: they could be on private land and this guy could have a gun.

If that was the case, she really didn't want to spook him. She held up her gloved hands and stepped out from behind the tree. "Look, I'm right here, okay?" she said, squinting as a bright light came into her vision. Was he… carrying a torch? Just what kind of people owned this place? "Um, we're just camping," she continued, eyes adjusting slowly to the light change. "We had no idea this was private property. I can go get my friends and we'll get out of here quick… oh my God, is that a sword?"

The man was, indeed, carrying an actual sword and wearing some kind of armor get-up, and the moment she realized that was the moment she woke up completely. Clearly she had stumbled upon some crazy survivalist compound of some kind. Listening to her instincts, she turned and scrambled away as quickly as she could.

"Stay put!" he ordered. Jackie didn't listen, choosing instead to dart through the trees on clumsy feet.

The sounds of yelling and more footsteps followed behind her as she ran, but she still held onto the hope that adrenaline could get her farther away, somewhere that had cellphone service so she could call for help.

"After her!" a voice called, and panic swelled inside her chest. She continued running until her lungs burned and her legs felt weak—which, admittedly, didn't take very long—and finally, when she felt that she had a little distance, she stumbled against a tree, panting.

She could still hear people searching for her, and at this rate they were bound to catch her. Her only hope was the call 911. With shaky fingers she pulled her phone out of her jacket and held down the "on" button.

"C'mon," she whimpered, cursing the time it took to start up. She'd it turned off earlier to save battery life, but now she was dearly regretting it.

When it finally powered on, she had absolutely no service bars. But this was her only shot. She'd heard from somewhere that 911 worked even without service, and unfortunately for her it was time to put that to the test. Shaky fingers swiped the phone icon and dialed, trying to catch her breath so that she could be coherent in case an operator did pick up.

Fear stabbed through her as an automated voice answered, "I'm sorry, the person you are dialing is out of reach—"

"What was that?"

"Over there!"

They were headed towards her now. Her hands were trembling so much that she dropped her phone in the leaves, but that was the least of her worries now. She crouched down to try and sneak away.

And then she bumped into a tree. Only it wasn't a tree. It was another guy in armor.

The last thing she saw before her vision went black was the hilt of a sword swinging over her head.

He felt tired and dazed as he woke up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes to look around. With a frown, he realized that his hands were bound.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake," said the blond Nord who sat right across from him. It appeared that he was a prisoner too, along with a few others. "You tried to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us. And those thieves over there."

Bradas peered over at the thieves. One was a brown-haired Nord and the other was a woman who looked like she'd seen better days. It seemed they had tossed her around a little before putting her in binds. One side of her face was bruised and swelling and she was covered in dirt. The rough material of her tunic fit poorly, slipping off her collar and making her look like a mangy degenerate. He frown when he realized that her gaze was locked onto his, a furrow in her brow. He raised an eyebrow and she looked away quickly, embarrassed at being caught staring.

She acted like she'd never seen a Dunmer before. He sneered and looked down at his binds. It was more likely that she hated his race, like many others of her kind. He supposed it didn't matter now—they were all prisoners.

"Damn you Stormcloaks," the black-haired thief was saying. ""The empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He looked directly at him, now. "You there! You and me—we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds, now, thief," the blond Nord interjected. At that, the young woman sniffed silently and lifted her bound hands to wipe gingerly at her nose.

"Shut up back there!" the previously silent carriage driver groused.

"What's wrong with him, huh?" the thief asked, ignoring the driver and gesturing at the man across from him. Even Bradas was curious; the Nord man beside him had his hands bound and his mouth muffled by a tightly tied cloth.

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"

Bradas was silent. If this was Ulfric Stormcloak captured alongside them…

"Ulfric, the jarl of Windhelm? … You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you…! Oh Gods, where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where were going, but Sovngarde awaits," the Stormcloak said, resigned.

"No, this can't be happening! This isn't happening!" The thief finally seemed to connect the dots that Bradas had just moments ago. The pace of his heart quickened-of all the ways he could have died, it had to be at the hands of the Nords at an execution block. He'd made it across the border only to be be killed.

"Hey," the other Nord said, "What village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why do you care?"

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

A short silence settled over their little wagon. The young woman hunched over and covered her eyes, and he knew she was weeping as quietly as she could.

"Rorikstead. I'm… I'm from Rorikstead."

"General Tallius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" a voice called out, interrupting the solemn moment.

"Good, let's get this over with!"

The horse thief began praying to the divines and Bradas tuned them all out as his own silent panic began to set in. Were they all really going to die? Thieves and border-crossers beside jarls and rebels?

Jackie couldn't believe what was happening. She had been convinced at first that she was the victim of some sick prank, that maybe some LARPers had taken things way too far. At least, that was the best theory she could come up with when she saw them haul up a blue-gray colored elf guy onto the wagon. But the bumpy carriage ride and the bruise she felt forming on her face drove the point home: it didn't matter if these were demented cosplayers or not. There was a good chance these people were going to kill her.

"This is Helgen," the big blond guy said. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in… Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

And, from the way this guy was waxing poetic, they were going to kill everyone in this wagon, too.

"Who are they, Daddy? Where are they going?" a little boy asked.

"You need to go inside, little cub," his dad said.

"Why? I wanna watch the soldiers."

"Get inside the house, now," he repeated. Jackie felt sick to her stomach. These people had done this before? There were kids here? How did the government not know about this?

"Why are we stopping?" the obnoxious guy beside her asked.

"Why do you think? End of the line." Jackie sniffled and looked around the little… village, or wherever they were stopped in. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us."

She stood up and forced herself to move off of the wagon, her muscles stiff with fear. She ignored the horse thief's protests behind her and just focused and getting out without falling down or bumping into anyone—which was a task in itself, because she felt so sick and dizzy from the bruising hit she'd been dealt earlier.

"Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time!" a bossy lady's voice called out.

"Empire loves their damn lists," the grumpy blond muttered.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." one of the male guards said. She watched as the 'true high king of wherever' stepped forward.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," the chatty guy said solemnly. She wondered if that was an actual chopping block she saw over yonder…

"Ralof of Riverwood," the guard read. The blond stepped forward silently, with what she would have identified as dignity if she herself hadn't been so terrified. They weren't actually going to execute them, were they? "Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No! I'm not a rebel!" The man stepped forward, protesting. "You can't do this!" He hesitated for a second, and then broke out into a run.

"Halt!"

"You're not gonna kill me!"

"Archers!"

She didn't even see the arrow flying, just Lokir crumpling to the ground. She stared at him, wide-eyed. Was he dead? Oh God, he was dead…

"Anyone else feel like running?" the female guard asked aggressively.

Jackie felt her bottom lip start to tremble and she fought the tears that threatened to come. She'd been crying all morning and it hadn't helped anything.

"Wait. You there, step forward," another guard said to the elf on her right. He stepped forward slowly, a deep frown etched onto his face. "Who are you?"

He straightened up when he answered. "Bradas Sarayn," he replied.

"Another refugee? The Gods really have abandoned your people. Captain. What should we do? He's not on the list." For a second, Jackie wondered if they would be set free. They weren't on the list, so they didn't have to get killed, right?

"Forget the list. He goes to the block." What a bitch!

"By your orders, captain." The male guard looked back at him. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure to return your remains to Morrowind. Follow the captain, prisoner." He did as he was told and the guard looked to her. "And your name?"

"J-Jackie Carson?" the answer came out more like a question through her jittering teeth. "I shouldn't be on there…"

"Follow them," he gestured toward the group of people gathering around the chopping block. She blinked. How could he brush her off so quickly after he'd been relatively nice to the elf guy? Instead of protesting, though, she allowed herself to be led to stand in the big group awaiting execution. She stood just behind the elf, scared of what was happening next. If she hadn't just seen someone get shot with an arrow for running away, she just might have tried it herself.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," a guy addressed the man with a bandana over his mouth, "some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." Jackie wanted to scream. What the hell was he talking about? "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos. And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!"

Suddenly, an eerie echoing noise filled the air. Jackie looked up and around to identify it, but there was nothing in the sky, no clues to discern what it was.

"What was that?" someone asked.

"It's nothing. Carry on," another replied.

"Yes, General Tullius!" the female guard said. "Give them their last rites."

A woman who Jackie assumed was some kind of priestess began to speak. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you…"

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with," one of her fellow prisoners stepped forward and shut that woman right up.

"… As you wish," she said, irritated.

The prisoner faced the chopping block and said, "Come on, I haven't got all morning!" He let himself be guided onto his knees and knelt over the block. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

A man standing above him raised an axe and…

Jackie dry-heaved.

This was real, this was really real and up close. Her blood roared through her ears and her vision began to darken around the sides. There was blood everywhere, and the man's head rolled into a little box.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof was saying, but she could barely hear him.

"Next, the new one in the rags!" Despite the order, no one moved. Everyone stopped for a moment to listen to the trilling sound that drifted through the air again, this time louder. Jackie couldn't bring herself to care about what it was.

"There it is again… did you hear that?"

"I said next prisoner," the woman repeated. Jackie wished she would just shut up. How could she be so heartlessly efficient?

"To the block, prisoner," the other guard gestured toward the elf guy. "Nice and easy."

Bradas stepped forward, back straight and eyes forward. He'd never been the honorable type, but he would at least try to be right before death. Not to mention the fact that running had already proven impossible.

He caught a glimpse of the girl that had ridden with them—tears filled her wide eyes. He'd never thought that when he died there would be a girl crying for him. He would have laughed if the whole situation hadn't been so unfair.

The world tilted to the side and he watched the executioner ready his axe. He would have preferred to keep his eyes closed—to not see death coming for him—but before he could he spotted something… strange behind the tower. He couldn't be sure if it was really what it looked like…

But then it landed on top of the tower and let out a deafening roar, knocking the executioner and everyone else to the ground. He sat there, frozen. Could this actually be happening? Was that an actual dragon?

He stood up clumsily, his vision blurry.

"Hey, you, get up! Come on, the Gods won't give us another chance!" A voice, one belonging to one of the other prisoners called out as if from a great distance. "This way!"

He blindly followed the man who had been identified as Ralof, stumbling along the way. Being pulled from the brink of death to the frenzy of panic made him slow and stupid, but he forced himself to adjust to the chaos. He would die otherwise.

"You, too, girl! Quickly!" he yelled at the young woman who had been weeping only a moment ago. She was standing as if frozen, staring at the great beast that was laying waste to Helgen, her jaw dropped and eyes wide as dinner plates.

"Come on," he urged her, reaching out with bound hands and trying to push her along. After a few moments, she stared at him as if in a daze, eyebrows furrowed and fresh tears welling up in her eyes. There was no time to gently pry her from her shock, however. He grabbed her hands and shook. "We must make it to the keep!" he cried, and pulled her along for a moment before she seemed to understand what he was asking of her.

She followed along as closely as she could to him, and they followed Ralof into the keep.

Jackie couldn't help but feel like all the little pieces of her life were falling away and shattering around her.

She felt totally numb as Bradas pulled her along into some kind of tower, or keep, as he had called it. Once inside, Ralof began speaking to the guy in the fur coat.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages," he replied. Another roar split through the air and Jackie jumped. "We need to move, now!"

"Up through the tower, let's go!" Ralof agreed. Numbly, she followed all the men up the stairs, only to watch that part of the building torn off by that dragon. The person in front of them was ripped from the stairs, his body falling to the ground below like a rag doll. Fire erupted from the dragon's mouth in great throaty bellows that actually sounded like some kind of foreign language.

"See the inn on the other side?" Ralof panted. "Jump through the roof and keep going!"

Jackie couldn't believe her ears. "What? We can't," she said, her voice hoarse. That inn was way too far down and away. They'd break their necks!

"Better than being burned to death," the elf guy offered with a grim smile.

"Go! We'll follow when we can!" Ralof looked about ready to push her if she didn't comply, so she took a deep breath and got ready to jump.

"I'll go first, you'll see it can be done," the pointy-eared man said, and leapt off the tower and into the inn. Forcing herself not to think, she followed suit.

When she landed, a sharp, tingling pain stabbed through her ankles and legs, but she found she could still run.

"Well done!" her fellow prisoner exclaimed. He began running again and she followed, less afraid this time to jump down to another level of the building after him.

Focusing on running with her hands bound and following the elf was difficult but she found that somehow she was able to keep going. With a passing sense of panic she noticed a soldier leading the little kid that had wanted to watch the soldiers through the burning remnants of his village. Before she could think too hard on it, the dragon landed on the ground and spoke once more, fire blasting out of its mouth like some kind of awful demon.

"Gods! Everyone, get back!"

She tried to identify who was yelling but felt herself wrenched backwards and it was all she could do not to stumble and continue running.

"Still alive, prisoners? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way," a man demanded. He was wearing the same outfits of those who had captured her but beggars couldn't be choosers at this point. They trailed behind him. He told his friend to take care of the little boy that was crouching behind a ruined house with them and off they went.

"Stay close to the wall!" he yelled as they ran, and she did her best until a huge claw decimated the wall like it was nothing, nearly killing them in the process. They only paused for a second, then continued their quick journey through the burning village, jumping over more dead bodies than she could count. They ran past of group of people who were—and she wasn't sure what she was seeing, since everything was happening so fast—shooting fire out of their hands? She didn't have time to look back to see.

The only time they did stop was so that their current guide could have some kind of stand-off with Ralof, who she was relieved to see alive.

"Ralof! You damned traitor, get out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time!"

"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" The man who had been guiding them barely spared them a glance as he ran off.

"You! Come on, into the keep!" Ralof yelled, taking off at a sprint. She looked hopelessly between them, and then noticed the elf going in Hadvar's direction. Without thinking, she followed.

"Quick! I can cut you loose inside the keep," he promised, ushering them inside.

The keep was empty, and terribly quiet compared to the chaos outside. Bradas took a second to catch his breath.

"Looks like we're the only ones who made it," Hadvar said, his voice the only thing that cut through the sound of their panting. "Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times?"

His thoughts exactly. Bradas took a few more deep breaths and faced the man, offering his bound hands so that the ropes could be cut.

"We should keep moving. Come here, Let me see if I can get those bindings off." The large Nord unsheathed his sword and cut away the bindings, and Bradas rubbed his tender wrists.

"Thank you," he said.

Hadvar shrugged and turned to the young woman that had followed them. "Your turn," he muttered, cutting her binds as well.

"Thanks," she said, stretching out her arms and brushing her matted hair away from her face.

"There you go. You two take a look around, there should be plenty of gear to choose from. I'm going to see if I can find something for these burns."

Bradas looked around the room they were in. It looked like some sort of soldier's barracks, with chests lining the walls and little bit of food and potions on the shelves. Just perfect for their current needs. The first chest he opened was filled with Imperial armor and weapons.

"I'll be changing out of these rags, so either take a good look or avert your eyes," he told the gaping girl who was still lingering behind him. She'd barely said a word since early this morning, and she looked like she'd was having the worst day of her life.

He could sort of relate; it wasn't every day you saw a dragon. It wasn't however, the worst day of his life.

Deciding to ignore her for the time being, he quickly stripped off the rags he'd been given by the Imperials and changed into their armor. It was a little loose but it would do until he could find some cash. He picked up an iron sword and gave it a few swings.

"Uh, I don't think I can… I've never, um, used a sword," a small voice came from behind him. He turned to see her trying to fit armor over her clothes. She was watching him closely, as if he was one of the most fascinating things she'd ever seen.

Strange. Her gaze didn't quite radiate with hatred like he'd previously assumed.

"No time like the present," he replied, opening another chest and rummaging through it for another weapon. She was probably the bow and arrow type, but now was no time to be picky. He tossed her an iron sword and watched as she stared at it helplessly.

"Let's keep moving, that thing is still out there." Hadvar moved past them quickly and pulled a chain beside a door, causing it to lift open for them.

"You may not be handy with a sword, but now is no time to be picky," he said to her before following Hadvar.

Neither of the men she was following said another word to her the whole time they were navigating whatever castle or keep they were in. It was just as well, because she was completely useless. As an average middle class American girl, she'd never seen so much blood and violence in her entire life.

Her companions raced ahead of her and cut down enemies with surprisingly brutal force. The elf and the other guy made a quick and deadly team—it didn't even occur to her to worry about them because they were so mercilessly efficient. She trailed behind them awkwardly in her stolen armor, trying not to cut herself with the sword the elf had given to her.

She couldn't describe the relief she felt when they finally found a way out of the keep through an underground cave—by the way that Hadvar guy was talking, she was half-convinced that they were all going to die in there. They emerged out from the cave and into the open air one at a time, and she took a deep breath.

She almost passed out when Hadvar yelled "Wait!" On instinct she threw herself down onto the ground and waited until the dragon flew overhead with a deafening roar and disappeared into the distance like it had never been there at all.

They all sat there for a moment, crouched down on the cold ground.

"Looks like he's gone for good this time," Hadvar said, standing up. "But I don't think we should stick around to see if he comes back."

"I'm inclined to agree," the elf said. Jackie huffed and got herself up on shaky legs.

"Closest town from here is Riverwood. My uncle's the blacksmith there, I'm sure he'd help you out. It's probably best if we split up. Good luck, I wouldn't have made it without your help today." Hadvar extended his hand toward the other man and they shook.

"Good luck to you as well. If you are heading to Riverwood, I'm sure our paths will cross," he said in reply.

Hadvar looked to her. "Take heart. You've made it out alive today."

"Sure," she said, her voice raspy. "Thank you."

"Travel safely," he told them before turning and heading off in a light sprint.

Jackie and the elf guy sat in silence for a few moments. She looked up at him and studied his features a little more now that she was up close. His skin was truly an ashy blue color, and his long hair a stark black. It was supposed to be up in a high ponytail she could tell, but today's events had made it messy. Most surprising of all were his eyes—a dark, almost glowing red. They flickered toward her in what seemed like annoyance.

"Must you stare?"

"Sorry," she muttered, embarrassed. "Uh, it's Brady, right?"

He frowned. "Is what Brady?"

"Your name?"

His face softened; he probably felt sorry for her. Well, good. She'd just had the shittiest day of her entire life. "My name is Bradas Sarayn," he said.

"Jackie Carson," she introduced herself. "So I've never…" she looked helplessly back at the cave entrance.

He seemed to get it. "I surmised as much," he said, moving closer toward her and reaching a hand toward her bruised face. She jerked away from his touch and he frowned. "It's only a healing spell. You're not a Nord, are you? You certainly don't look it."

"Healing spell?" she scoffed, eyeing his hand suspiciously. "I wish." And why would he ask if she was a Nord? What did that even mean?

"Stay still." She really didn't have much of a choice, seeing as she was too tired and weak to run away. She wasn't even going to try after she'd just watched him cut down almost every person they'd come across in the keep.

"Please don't hurt me," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping that asking nicely would help.

"I won't," he said, and grasped her shoulder lightly as he touched her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw that some kind of golden light was pouring from his hand, and she suddenly felt like she had just taken a nice dose of painkillers.

"Is that… How are you doing that?" she asked, sweet relief flooding through her aching skin. She didn't know what her face looked like, but she'd known it was swelling from the hit that guy in the woods had dealt her. Now, it felt as though all the pain and throbbing was going away, leaving her face feeling light and tingly.

"It won't heal you completely, but the bruising won't be as terrible," he said, ignoring her question and studying her face. "You don't look like a Nord. Where are you from, Jackie Carson?"

There was that question again. She stared blankly. "Nord? No. I'm American," she replied, perplexed.

He furrowed his brow and she stared into his blood red eyes. It was a good question he was asking, actually; she would have liked to know where he was from. At this proximity it was clear that he was not wearing make up—that, or he was an expert at applying it. She didn't know of any contact lenses that could turn eyes that particular shade of glowing red (without looking totally unnatural), and his facial features were sharp and exaggerated. He could cut someone with those cheekbones. Not to mention the thin, pointy ears.

What the hell. She'd seen a dragon today, anything was possible.

"Are you headed to that Riverwood place?" she asked, interrupting the contemplative silence that had settled over them.

"I suppose there is no choice," he replied, backing away from her and staring off in the direction that Hadvar had run off to. He hoped that the Nord was serious about helping him out—if not, it wouldn't be the first time he'd been led astray. "I'll get some supplies and head out. I presume you're going the same way?"

"Yeah, I think," she said, her tired eyes scanning the horizon. She looked exhausted, but much better than she had before he'd cast the healing spell. "Is it okay if we walk together?"

"I see no harm in that," he said, turning his back toward her and beginning the walk down the slight incline. He could hear her fumbling behind him and trying to keep up with his long strides, so he slowed down a little. It was a hassle, but at this point he couldn't just leave her behind to fend for herself. She clearly had no idea what she was doing.

Interesting, to meet a woman in Skyrim who'd never before held a sword. The world was a dangerous place, and even most nobles knew how to defend themselves. An inquisitive part of him wanted to know more, but there were more urgent things at hand—like the need to reach Riverwood before nightfall.

The walk to Riverwood was slow, but it was mostly her fault. She was sort of ashamed at how out of shape she was compared to her pointy-eared companion. His long strides took him swiftly and gracefully through the forest, which felt like it would never end. She had to stop and rest a couple of times, and could tell it was grating on his nerves. He was nice enough not to complain, but that only made her feel worse.

It was evening when they finally came across a river, which smelled and looked heavenly. It was only a moment later that she noticed that they was actually a town right across the water, and she couldn't help but feel excited. "Is that Riverwood?" she asked, happy at the idea that this torturous walking could finally be coming to an end.

"It seems so," he said, still feeling hesitant about taking Hadvar up on his offer. Nords were none too welcoming to his kind. Hadvar could have genuine feelings of friendship toward him, but that didn't mean his uncle would. He peered over at Jackie, who was shakily making her over a rockier part of the road. Perhaps having a human with him would improve his chances of getting help. With a sigh, he held his hand out to help her. Without an ounce of feminine reserve she grabbed on tight and pulled herself across the rest of the rocks without falling.

"Thanks," she panted, giving him a genuine smile and dropping his hand. "You should win an award for patience. The Great Outdoors isn't exactly my forte."

He offered a thin smile, deciding against verbally agreeing.

They walked past a lumber yard and found a dirt road that led to the center of town, where a trading post and a few residences lined the street.

"There aren't any…" she trailed off when her eyes caught sight of a blacksmith's forge. Was that for real?

"This must be the place Hadvar was speaking of," Bradas said before taking hesitant steps toward the front door. "I'm going in. Are you coming?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. He would have thought that she'd be eager to get inside, but instead she was just gaping at the forge like she'd never seen one before.

"Yeah… coming," she said, finally turning away and following him up the steps to the house.

It was probably safe to say, at this point, that her hopes of finding a phone to call for help were totally dashed.

Logically, she had known it all along—she'd been hanging out with an elf all day and had seen an actual dragon. She obviously wasn't in Washington anymore. Though she had come to terms with the fact that magic was apparently real, she wasn't sure she could take the idea of not being able to get home.

Which actually begged the question: where was she?

To her great relief, they were welcomed warmly inside. She couldn't really focus on anything after that—Sigrid, Hadvar's aunt, ushered her to sit on one of the beds and got her a warm bowl of… some kind of stew. She didn't care what it was at that point. She hadn't eaten since she'd had a foil dinner last night, so this was like heaven in a bowl. She barely listened as Bradas, Hadvar, and Alvor talked about the dragon. All she could focus on was the fact that she was finally sitting down and resting her aching muscles.

"Have some bread," Sigrid said kindly, handing her a piece. Jackie grabbed it and stuffed it into her mouth.

"Sowwy," she said around her mouthful of bread. She swallowed and smiled at the older woman. "Thanks. Sorry to be so rude."

Sigrid laughed. "Don't worry. I can see it's been a while since you've eaten."

Jackie nodded and continued to eat her piece of bread, trying to slow down a little this time. The food was filling up her stomach and making her feel warm and sleepy. She must have visibly slowed down, because Sigrid said, "Why don't you rest for the night? You can take the bed by the fire," she said kindly.

"Thank you," Jackie said, her voice small and tired. She didn't remember lying down after that. Just darkness and sweet, dreamless sleep.