The genesis of this story comes from the fact that I totally wanted my character to marry Brynjolf only that's apparently not an option in the game. /3 I ended up marrying Balimund the smith instead. Which, if you think about it, is clearly the sane choice. Sexy bad boy tease or not so sexy but quite industrious provider type? The eternal question in video game form. Aside from that, I also got to thinking about what the intro to Skyrim would actually seem like from a real person's perspective. My analysis: freaking terrifying. I also have lately gotten interested in the "reluctant hero" type of character. So, my game character, upon reaching Whiterun and being attacked by a dragon that's not supposed to exist for the second time and being told "Hey, some people on a mountain want to talk to you because you're this thing called a Dragonborn perhaps." said "Sure." and then promptly kept right on walking past Ivarstead, eventually winding up in Riften and starting off a whole other chain of events just to avoid having to go climb the mountain of scary shouting dragon monks.

So, that is the inspiration for my story. There will be adventure, romance, and likely some light fluff later on. There will be major spoilers, so if you care about that sort of thing, you may want to play through the entire Thieves' Guild set first. I have played a little fast and loose with the real game timeline in some spots. The invisible plot bunnies insisted. Enjoy! And please leave feedback. I love hearing about the things that people enjoy in my stories.

No matter how far you sink, there is always further down to go. Her brother's words wandered once more through Valdis' weary mind as she slogged up the muddy road towards city walls ahead. A light drizzle soaked her clothes and speckled her face, strengthening the deep chill that had set into her bones since she had arrived in Skyrim…what, three days ago now? Five? How long had she been walking in this living nightmare of dragons and executions and strangers who she had been told since birth were her true "kinsmen" but who were as foreign to her now as the cat-faced Khajit?

Her brother would have fared better, she knew. He had been born here, had memories of kin and custom to guide him, whereas she, alone among her family, had lived her entire life in the warm Imperial south. It had been a mistake to come here without him, but there had been little choice, little time to decide, and life in exile was always better than death. There was always further down to go, if you could cheat the grave long enough.

Rousing herself from her exhausted stupor, she realized that she was nearly at the city gates. It was, she guessed, perhaps the middle of the afternoon, the guards at their posts, but the gates were closed. She struggled to process what this meant and what to do about it, when it dawned upon her that the guards were not looking at her. Each of them, including the archers on the walls, were looking upwards, turning and craning their necks as best they could with their helmets on to search the grey and dripping sky.

"What was that?" one of them asked the others, as they stepped further out on the road, "That sound?"

"Thunder?" another asked, and a third shook his head.

"I've never heard thunder sound like that before."

Valdis stared stupidly at them for a moment, until the sound repeated itself. A long, sharp roar, rising slightly in pitch, that echoed through the thick air and across the tops of the trees and then sounded again, closer and clearer this time. By the time the terrible head became visible through the clouds, the blood-chilling clap of enormous wings audible, she had no doubt what the answer to the guard's question was.

"Oh, no." she gasped, dread shooting through her veins and galvanizing her into action despite her weariness. She turned and pelted off of the road towards a nearby farm house, leaving the guards to scramble in a panic behind her.

~~0~~

The first attack hit behind her with the sound of swooping wings, fire, shouting guards, and a screaming roar that shook the very water droplets in the air. Valdis interrupted her sprint to dart suddenly sideways, flinging herself through the trees as the air sucked and whirled around her from the beat of the dragon's wings and a crackling column of flame obliterated the ground where she had stood seconds before. She tripped and scrambled up, panting, as covered the ground between her and the farmhouse and flattening herself again the wall.

Chaos reigned around her. She could hear the shouts of the guards, the terrified sounds of farm animals, the screams of farmers and other bystanders, and behind it all the furious bellowing of the monster. No, no, no, I killed you already, she thought, trying to swallow her panic, I saw your bones, I...how can this be happening? But as she felt the earth-shaking impact of the dragon landing nearby, she knew that it was happening, it was not a dream. It was a dragon, and it was coming for her.

She turned and started to climb, fitting her fingers into the cracks of the log house as she scaled the wall up to the thatched roof. The scene on the other side house was gruesome. The dragon thrashed as a handful of guards assailed it. She crawled onto the roof in time to see the beast snatch one of the guards in its mouth and toss him like a child's toy, before rearing its head back and blasting the others with a hellish spray of fire. Arrows, shot by the guards on the walls, pinged off of its scales, shooting sparks and doing nothing to stop the creature. Dragons were not supposed to exist…how could they know where its weak spots were, unless, like her, they had fought one before?

If the dragon somehow tracked her here…and it was too unlikely that a dragon would attack her in two separate locations days apart if it was not after her specifically…it would find her again. It would not matter where she went, it would follow her, and a lot more people would die in the process. Gritting her teeth, she pulled the bow from her shoulder and fitted and arrow into it, and belly-crawled up the thatch to the point of the roof, setting herself up for the draw, and taking careful aim.

The first arrow arrow missed, splinting like so much matchwood, but the second found its mark between the scales on the softer flesh of the dragon's should joint. The creature roared and whirled, flattening several guardsmen with its tail. Her third arrow buried itself in the other shoulder, and the beast began to lumber towards her. She scrambled up as it reared its head back, preparing to burn her to a crisp and, with ease born of complete fatalism, she dropped her bow and ran, letting the slope of the roof gather momentum for her, before she jumped straight for the dragon's head.

The monster's neck and head straightened out as it's burning breath turned the roof of the farmhouse into an inferno, creating an almost flat spot between its eyes. She landed hard, snapping its mouth closed with the force, but her knee buckled painfully under her and she bit down on her own lip so hard she tasted blood. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on the pitching scaled body beneath her, scraping and slashing her palm, as she struggled. Finally, she managed to right herself on the creature's neck, clamping down hard with her thighs as she pulled her short sword and rammed it down with as much force as she could muster. Once, twice, and then she felt the blade find the soft spot of the eye and sink in up to the hilt. The dragon thrashed violently, and, covered in its thick, hot blood, lost her grip and flew through the air, impacting the ground with a sharp, blinding pain that seemed to shoot through her entire body. A few seconds later, there was a loud crash, and then…nothing.

Exhausted, covered in blood, and hurting from a dozen points, she rolled onto her back and raised herself up in time to see the dragon's body shiver, crackle, and begin to glow. Not again, she thought, shuddering, as the golden light rushed from the rapidly dissolving corpse and into her. Her blood thrummed in her veins, her heart pounded, and she cried out from equal amounts of pain, frustration, and the sheer exultation of power.

Minutes later there were footsteps and voices nearby. She wanted to call out to them, but the best she could manage was a strangled groan. Her vision seemed to pulse with her heartbeat, the edges growing strangely white and opaque, like dense fog, and she felt strangely light, as if she were back in Cyrodiil, swimming with her brother in the canals and floating on the surface as she stared up into the blue sky…

"By the Eight…" a man's voice panted nearby, "Over here!"

Bodies swarmed around her, the clank of armor, the sharp tang of male sweat and fear.

"Don't pull it out, she'll start bleeding." someone said.

A face loomed over her, blonde hair, a thick beard, and blue eyes.

"Just be still. It's going to be alright." He said.

"No…" she croaked, but could not finish the thought. It won't be alright. It hasn't been alright for a long time before this, why would that change now?

Strong hands lifted her up, carrying her back towards the gates as it started to rain again, a torrential downpour that painted long streaks of bloody rainwater on her skin. Someone's hand was clasped her in hers, and she closed her eyes and imagined that she was in a different place. It was warm, deliciously warm, and the rain was falling on canals and terracotta rooves. She was playing at being a swordsman with her brother, not as she had last seen him, but the way he was before everything changed. Her father was working in the smithy and she could hear the rhythmic ring of metal on metal nearby, the sound of home.

When she woke, it was to that same sound, the clang and hiss of a working forge somewhere nearby, and she was in a bedroom. Not the one from her childhood, but a room with wattle and daub walls and furniture of rough cut timber and furs pulled up around her on the bed. For a moment, she lay still, wondering if she was still dreaming, but the aching throb in her ribs was proof enough to remind her of the battle with the dragon. She was alive, and while she did not know yet whether she was disappointed or grateful, she guessed that either way she would soon have some explaining to do.