Chapter 1 - During Sleep

The stench of old and dusty book pages was one that wafted all throughout the alien halls and buildings here in Apocrypha. To Surtr it carried a comforting nostalgia that set him at ease each time he arrived to the realm of knowledge.

It was a false, sickening sense of serenity, of which he was sure Hermaeus Mora had crafted just for him.

The twisted masonry gleamed under the dull green sky, papers bearing cryptic contents fluttered aloft the courtyard in which he sat, towers of stacked tomes stood about, a permanent fog clouding where one might usually see the land's horizon, the expansive lake a black and slimy stew of slow moving tendrils. His cloak was the only true comfort he bore at the moment, resting his seat on a hard iron bench not forged for any man to actually sit on.

In his hand lay a book, contained within was a story—a fiction, only serving to entertain him. The dark deity would be perplexed had it noticed his being here. Around him were the countless archives of world-shattering truths and revelations concerning the structure of the very universe itself. And it was here he chose to bother himself with something only a child would find worthy of attention.

There had been a time not long ago when journeys and adventures were something he busied himself with all the time. Some friends told him it was the nature of youth betraying his own character. He had argued that it was in his character, and that was the crux of the matter. Nowadays, though, he was meant to be apart of something much greater than himself, and this adventurous spirit he held was something harmful.

No one had told him that. It was something he surmised himself. After all, he was the Champion of Hermaeus Mora; the Last Dragonborn; the Thane of Whiterun. Even so, there existed no duty that could not be fulfilled by some other man in this world. As fun as traveling nations was, the young man did not at all relish the days he held the lives of many in his inexperienced and clumsy hands.

It had been odd, learning of his true nature after answering the Greybeards' call those few years ago. As he understood it, his soul was that of a dragon contained in the body of a mere man. It had not felt empowering to discover, rather he'd seen himself as a beast. And with the knowledge that all dragon-kind possessed an insatiable hunger for power and growth, he'd seen himself as a tyrant.

The strongest things he'd ever fought—the World-Eater Alduin; the Vampire Lord Harkon; the First Dragonborn, Miraak … Had he not undertaken the hardships it took to face these beings, the whole of Nirn would have faced destruction and death and fear, far exceeding many catastrophes the world had faced in its history. To meet these otherworldly threats, he'd sought out the very powers that made them so immovable.

And now he carried with him the thought. If the rush these powers had granted him took hold of his mind one day … what would become of the world? Of all the families he'd saved? Of the very people he wished to fight for?

It was something he once discussed with his teacher, Paarthurnax. The old dragon had not at all been confounded by his worrisome musings.

Faas do geinmaar. The fear of oneself is the greatest fear there can be, he was told. Just as the dovah overcame his nature, Surtr too was to conquer his strength.

Once again, it was not long before his reading had turned to meditation.

The moment had finally arrived. And when she strode forward the whispers unceremoniously began. It had always been this way. Not one word of encouragement from her peers as she collected her nerves, only jeering and insulting and teasing. To say it did not shake her resolve would be to lie, but she would move on in spite of it all, just as she always had.

"Are you prepared, Louise?" The Professor urged her on.

A lowly snicker reached her ears. She ignored it. She ignored everything. Her breath steadied and her body calmed. Today was the day of the Springtime Summoning. It was a tradition devised by the Founder Brimir himself centuries ago. Each year a new generation of mages were allowed the grounds for their very own familiars to be summoned—animals taken from any place in the world that mostly suited the mage that summoned them.

From there a contract was always made between servant and master, a bond meant to be lifelong.

"Yes, sir." She muttered out, stepping into the circle. She raised her wand and bellowed the rite.

Herein lay her chance, an opportunity to twist her reputation into one befitting of a mage. She could feel the sun beam down on her, as if to display her to the world as someone worthy of the name 'Vallière'. Perhaps to even make her worthy of something more.

She shut her eyes.

"My name is Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière," she announced.

It was a powerful name, a name worthy of respect. Today, it would finally command such a thing.

"Pentagon of the five great elemental powers …"

The girl had endured so much humiliation in her short life. She knew it must have all been in service of some greater purpose. The world had no cruelty without purpose.

"Heed my summoning, and bring forth my familiar!"

She felt the warmth of the light envelope her. She latched onto this sensation, knowing it couldn't last. Things would go wrong, as they always did. That's what it told her, the constant doubt she carried with her every day. No, it would work this time. It was working!

The gate tore open before her, brilliant light shining and blessing her eyes with its magnificence. An exhilarating joy filled her chest. The others were staring at her, heedless of the amazing creature she was calling, but she knew better! It would be something beautiful, powerful, and terrifying all at once. And it would care for her, protect her far better than any other vermin her peers could conjure.

That was the only way things could proceed, given all that she had tolerated all these years. Otherwise, what would it have all been for?

As quickly and as wonderfully as the gate opened, it closed right then in a puff of smoke and wind that blew back the cloaks of all standing in the field that day.

And when the smoke cleared …

The mutterings of the crowd rose from whispers to excited exclamations.

"What is … it?" One student stammered.

"It's black all over. …" Someone else observed in awe.

And then went one "Wait, that looks like a man." and everything seemed to plunge into chaos.

The crowd of teenagers started to speak all at once—voices of confusion, footsteps taken closer to examine just what lay there before them, a few indignant shouts expressing doubt that Louise could have possibly summoned anything worth all the attention.

Yet there in the grass was a human. More than that, it appeared to be a knight! Whoever the man was, he was wearing a black fur-trimmed cloak of splendid quality, each hair making it seem fine enough to use as a blanket if one wished. His arms were outstretched as he lay on his belly, revealing just enough for all to see the elegant armor he donned.

Forged from some dark metal, the plated gauntlets and pauldrons looked expertly crafted, each plate lined with white engravings intricate enough to belong on a tapestry. Then there was the face. He was young, but old enough to have grown some scruff on his chin. His skin was pale, as if he'd never been under the sun a day in his life. His hair was just as black as his gear, neck-long and unkempt.

Louise was bewildered.

"The Zero summoned a person! How in Brimir's name did she mess up that badly?"

"He's too well dressed—he must be in a nobleman's employ!"

"Oh, that's great! You've landed us all in trouble, Vallière!"

"Hmm. … He does look quite dashing, though, does he not?"

"Kirche, please."

"Everyone!" Professor Colbert raised his voice. "Quiet down, please!"

The girl turned to her teacher, flushed and befuddled, and let loose a river of questions. "Mister Colbert! What went wrong? How did my spell call forth a human? Where is my familiar?"

The man adjusted his spectacles and put a hand to his chin. "Well, Miss Vallière, that is your familiar."

"But …" she stuttered, fighting to find the words. "That is a human! A commoner! A knight! That isn't … That can't be—"

"Miss Vallière, I understand your confusion." The balding man interrupted. "I am just as puzzled by this occurrence as you. Although not once have I heard of a human being summoned in all the history of the Springtime Summoning … it is still just that: a summoning. And you have finally succeeded in the summoning. As such, it is prudent that you follow through and complete the rite."

She said nothing more. There was nothing more to say.

And so the summons ended with an especially flustered Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, sitting next to an unconscious man in gleaming armor, to whom she was apparently now bound for the remainder of her life.

She'd wanted something akin to that of a dragon or a griffin. Beautiful and powerful and terrifying all at once, who would care for her and protect her till the end of days.

Instead, she had been given the last of the Dragonborn.

And Louise knew not that, in time, this would prove to be the better of anything she could have hoped for.

A/N: The Dragonborn in this story is no werewolf or vampire or mage. His roots are stemmed in stealth and thievery, as well as being an indomitable warrior. I'm trying to write in a bit of a fanciful style to fit the genre of both series more, and some stuff will seem a bit oddly written or obnoxious because of it. Do tell me what I can do better.

And thanks for reading. The beginning will be a bit slow, but you won't regret staying! Hopefully …