Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Dovahkiin.” 

Hiccup’s eyes shot open, startled awake by an ancient, booming voice for the fourth time this week. Just like every time, it was at the break of dawn.

“Even on my day off?” He lamented. 

Well, if there ever was a day to investigate, it was today. 

Hiccup dressed and descended from his room in Dragonsreach, the palace of the Jarl of Whiterun. His father, Stoick, was the Jarl of the whole Hold of Whiterun. And so what was the 16-year-old son of the Jarl to do? 

Be an apprentice to the Blacksmith, apparently. 

Yes, since the day Hiccup could work, he was busy helping his mentor at the Skyforge. It was fulfilling work, if not monotonous, and he relished his days off. 

Days like today. 

“Son! You’re awake early!” Said Stoick with a boom. “I thought you’d sleep until midday!” 

“Yeah…uh, I have an errand to run, so I thought I’d get an early start.” 

“An errand? What would you possibly need? Where to?” 

“Uh…Riverwood. And nothing special, just…something that got waylaid there.” 

“At least come eat breakfast with me, lad.” 

Hiccup was not one to argue with his father, especially when the man was able to pick him up with one hand and throw him across the Cloud District. He had a feeling there was more to come. His father often preferred to handle news over meals. 

Hiccup obediently took his seat as the bread, fruits, and porridge were served. 

“I’ve received news from Solitude.” 

Hiccup sat up straight. “About the successor to High King Torygg?” 

“Yes.” 

“I thought it was settled on his wife, Elisif? At least until his son is old enough.” 

“I thought so too. His son Oleg was sent to Cyrodiil for his own safety in the wake of the attack. Apparently, Torygg had another son before he was married. Elisif mentioned him to the Moot, as a precaution, and they voted to elect him to the throne until Oleg is old enough.” 

Hiccup blinked. “They elected an illegitimate heir over Elisif?”

“That’s what I wondered as well. According to Spitelout, it was the Thalmor that preferred the man over Elisif. After all, she’s quite distraught over Torygg.” 

“I’m not surprised. Any idea what this new king is like?” 

“Rumor is that he is a baker from Helgen. What’s more, he’s married to an albino dark elf and has a young daughter.” 

“Oh. Good for him,” Hiccup shrugged as he drank his canis root tea. 

“I can’t imagine people respecting his authority. So, at the end of this week, we will be going to Solitude to meet him and show our support. I will need you on your utmost behavior, understand?” 

“Yes dad.” 

“Good good. So, what’s this errand you have to run?” 

Hiccup internally groaned. He had hoped his father wouldn’t ask. 

Stoick the Vast. He didn’t get his name without reason. The man was mountainous, and a good foot or two taller than most Nords. Hiccup, on the other hand, was the runt of the entire Hold. Maybe even all of Tamriel. Stoick wanted a proud warrior son, but instead was gifted with a toothpick. As such, Stoick was wary of his son going out and doing anything reckless. But Hiccup wanted to do whatever he could to make his father proud. 

It was a vicious cycle. 

“It’s…you know how you’re always telling me those little tasks you give me will help build character? It’s like that.” 

Stoick frowned. “This better not be a troll hunting errand. I thought we discussed that those beasts are too strong for you!” 

“No trolls! No fighting at all…if I can help it. I’m just…looking for something.” 

“What kind of something?” 

How to explain? ‘Dad, I’ve been seeing a Nordic burial mound in my dreams and keep hearing this booming voice calling to me.’ That certainly wouldn’t go over as well as he’d hope. “I’m looking for information. Does the word ‘Dovahkiin’ mean anything to you?” 

“Dovahkiin.” The same voice that always pulled him from his dreams echoed in his mind, clear as day in his waking life. He’d never heard it while awake, though he had never said the word aloud either. No one else seemed to hear it. 

Stoick gave a little chuckle. “Now I know you’ve been spending too much time in the forge. Gobber loves the Tale of the Dragonborn. I don’t know all that much about it, though.” 

“It’s a folktale,” said Spitelout, the Steward to Stoick. “‘Dovahkiin’ is the ancient word for Dragonborn. Dating back to the age when Dragons roamed Skyrim. The Dragonborn can speak the language of the dragons, the Thu’um.”

“I’ve heard that word before. Thu’um.” 

“You’ve probably heard it in regards to the death of High King Torygg. It’s also called a shout. It’s how Drago Bludvist killed Torygg. He used his voice, like a dragon would, and killed him.” 

Hiccup frowned. Killing someone by shouting at them? That made little to no sense. “So if the Dragonborn can do this…is Drago a Dragonborn?” 

Stoick chuckled with a shake of his head. “Don’t think about it too much, lad. The Dragonborn is a legend.” 

“But the shout—“ 

“No one knows how Drago learned to shout. He never explained. And now, since escaping the empire’s imprisonment, he stays holed up in Windhelm.” 

“The best place for him!” Spitelout shouted. “Let he and his lot rot in that frozen wasteland!” 

“If you want to hear the legend of the Dragonborn, I’d ask Gobber. He’s the best orator in town.” Stoick wiped his beard. “What does the Dragonborn have to do with your errand?” 

Now he had to lie. He had hoped being vague would be enough, but now he had to lie to his father’s face. “Just…taking the initiative to learn more about our history. The word ‘Dovahkiin’ was mentioned in some text, and I was unfamiliar with it. I was going to see if the trader in Riverwood had any books on it…since I already asked Belathor.” 

“Dovahkiin!” The ethereal voice echoed in his mind again. 

“Ah, good lad. Always wise to learn our traditions. Do you want your cousin to go with you?” 

“Oh, no no, I’m fine. I’ll take a shield and knife from Gobber’s.” 

“You’ll take your horse?” 

“Of course! Of course!” 

“Very well. I can’t say I’m fond of you leaving the city in the wake of current events, but Riverwood isn’t far. As long as you stay on the main road and return as soon as possible, I will permit your leave.”

“Thank you, dad.”  

After breakfast, Hiccup went out to the stairs outside of Dragonsreach. From there, he could see all the fields that surrounded the city, out to where the mountains began. Whiterun stood like a beacon in the middle of it all, with nothing but high walls to protect it. It was nothing like the mountainside Windhelm, or Solitude that was built upon a natural arch. But it was home. 

He closed his eyes and listened, doing his best to block out the chatter from the people below. 

“Dovahkiin,” he said softly. 

“Dovahkiin!” His summoner responded. 

He felt it then. He felt the call from a direction, south. Actually towards Riverwood. The city name had been a ruse to his father, but it might turn out to be where he went after all. 

Now with a direction in mind, Hiccup headed over to the Skyforge, the official forge of the Companions. 

“Morning lad!” 

“Good morning Severio!” 

“Morning Hiccup! Is Gobber done with my ax yet?” 

“He should finish today, Olfrid!” 

“Where are you going so early, boy?” 

“Morning Fralia! Just out and about!” 

The trip to Jorrvaskr was familiar and could be carved out of the stone by now. When Gobber spotted him, he laughed. 

“Did you forget you had the day off, lad?” 

“No, I just came to borrow a shield and a dagger.” 

Gobber gave a little nod and went to his inventory. “Off on some adventure, I bet.” 

“Something like that. My father said you're a fan of the Tale of the Dragonborn?” 

Gobber immediately stopped rooting around and broke into song, swinging the ax that was in his hand. 

“ Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior’s heart! 

I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes! ” 

Hiccup backed away from the scene in an effort to avoid getting hit. 

“ With a voice wielding power of the ancient nord arts!

Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes!

It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes!

Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes!

For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows!

You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn’s come! ” 

Several townsfolk and members of the Companions gathered around the Skyforge when they heard the ruckus Gobber was making. He was so loud, even Heimskr stopped his preaching and stared across the district. 

Hiccup regretted bringing the topic up. 

“ Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin!

With a bindle of cheese! 

For the wine, for the food, 

May the guard’s horses be drunk! ” 

This new verse brought many protests from the townsfolk. 

“That’s not how it goes!” 

“Are you trying to bring the wrath of the divines on the town?!” 

He yelled right back at them. “Alright, then you sing it!” 

There were some nonsensical mutters before people wandered away. 

“Yeah! That’s what I thought!” 

Hiccup slowly peeled his hand off his face. “What was that?” 

“You wanted the Tale of the Dragonborn, so I sang it. Though you should get Luka to perform it next time he’s in town. He’s got the voice of an angel.” 

“So…it’s a song.” 

“Aye. Though, based on a true story. Legend tells of a great warrior called the Dragonborn—“ 

“I got that.” 

“—who had the gift to speak with the dragons. Anyone can learn how to shout, as you heard about with Drago.” 

“Right.” 

“But it’s not easy. There’s a reason why no one but the Greybeards know how to do it.” 

“Wait, Greybeards? Who are they?” Hiccup asked. “Are they how Drago learned to shout?” 

“That’s the theory! Though no one can get confirmation. The Greybeards live up on High Hrothgar, on the Throat of the World. They’re completely removed from this world. So no one can talk to them.” 

“Okay, so…the Greybeards figured out a way to learn how to shout like a dragon?” 

“Exactly! Through centuries of study, and long days of practice, they are able to use a shout. But the Dragonborn, he can learn it immediately.”

“So…he’s just smart?”

“You’re missing the point, lad.” 

“It’s all so confusing! What is a shout anyway? How did Drago kill a man with his voice? That’s the thing I keep getting caught up on.” 

“Aye, that would be confusing if you think it’s a normal holler. But it’s not. The Thu’um, the voice of a dragon, is said to carry absolute authority. So much so, the very nature around the dragon bends to its will. The dragon yells ‘fire’ and fire comes from his mouth. He yells ‘stop’ and time itself comes to a standstill around him.” 

“Oh…that makes more sense then. So Drago yelled ‘death’ at Torygg?” 

“Not according to witnesses. The shout that Drago used threw Torygg across the room and he slammed him into a wall. It’s said that every bone in his body was shattered.” 

“That’s…that’s scary to think someone alive right now can do that.” 

Gobber went back to rummaging in the equipment trunk. “My favorite tale of the Dragonborn is when the city of Winterhold, before it fell into the sea, was attacked by a giant frost troll. The Dragonborn said, ‘you like ice? I’ll show you ice!’ and he turned the troll into solid ice. A single iron arrow hit it and it fell to pieces.” 

“I think you made that up.” 

“I embellished it, but it’s true!”

“So what happened to the Dragonborn? Was it just one guy?”

“I don’t know how many there were, but I would guess there was more than one. The stories span thousands of years. As for what happened? The last one died, and so did the dragons. So the divines didn’t pick a new one.” 

Hiccup couldn’t ask the question he wanted. ‘If the voice in my dreams is calling for the Dragonborn, does that mean the dragons are coming back?’ 

If he did ask, he might get a few more days off, but strict supervision on top of it. 

He held up a banded iron shield and a steel dagger. “Why do you ask, lad?” 

Hiccup blanched. “Don’t you have a shield that isn’t so heavy?” 

Gobber rifled again and pulled out a hide shield.

“How about one that doesn’t suck?” 

Gobber practically frisbeed the steel shield at him and pointed. “Now be on your way!” 

“Thanks Gobber! See you later!” 

Finally, he was free. He wasn’t the kind to leave the city very often. Occasionally, he’d go see the Khajit caravan outside the gates. But outside the walls of Whiterun, Skyrim was a dangerous place. 

There was a giant camp not too far from the gate and he’d heard tales from the guards about travelers getting too close and being punted into Sovngarde. 

He merrily went to the stables and obtained his horse, a black stallion named Thump. 

The joke here is when horses and cows get hiccups, it’s called thumps instead. 

Now, the courageous adventurer was off to Riverwood to face his destiny…or at least attempt to learn more about it. 

The safest route was the stone road. It wasn’t perfect, as many of Skyrim's most hostile would wait at the edges for the richest or tastiest. But taking the road kept you from wandering over a Spriggan clearing or Falmer cave. 

It was a pleasant summer day. Summer in Whiterun meant it was warm enough to not have to bundle in furs, and farmers could actually get a decent harvest of wheat, leeks, and potatoes. The sun was out, the sky was blue, and the elk frolicked through the tall grass. 

The road to Riverwood was sandwiched between two mountains, along the edge of a fast flowing river. Hiccup kept Thump at a steady pace until the village was in sight. 

Riverwood had all the essentials in a Skyrim town. A logging mill on the river, a blacksmith, the tavern, and of course the trader. 

Hiccup hitched his horse outside of the Sleeping Giant Inn, waved greetings to the quiet townsfolk before going in. 

A young woman with black hair swept around the hearth in the middle of the inn. She glanced at him briefly. “Welcome,” she said rather tersely. “What can I do for you, Stranger?” 

Hiccup tilted his head slightly at the girl. She must have been two or three years younger than him and she was working the tavern? “Uh, not to bother you, Miss. But I was just looking for information.” 

“I’ll tell you what I know. Or direct you to someone who can help.” 

“Does there happen to be a Nordic Burial mound nearby?” 

“You must mean Bleak Falls Barrow? It’s a little ways North from here, across the river. There’s a path that leads right up to it. But watch out for wolves on the road…and also bandits. The Barrow is mostly a bandit haven these days. Same bandits that robbed the trader I suppose.” 

“What did they take?” 

“Something about a Golden Dragon Claw. A trophy of his that he always had on display. Why do you ask?” 

“I…was just…” he cleared his throat. “My business is my own.” 

“Fine. So if anyone comes looking when you’ve been missing for a week, I don’t know anything.” 

“I mean…hopefully that won’t be a problem? Thank you for the information, Miss…?” 

“Kagami.” 

“Kagami. If it’s not too much…do you own this inn?” 

She scowled at him. “Does it look like I’m old enough to own an inn?” 

“Sorry, right right…I just…there’s no one else in here.” 

“I run the inn for my mother. She’s gone blind. But we don’t often have visitors, so it isn’t very hard work.” 

“Oh! Well, good for you. Um…” he started rummaging around in his pockets for money. 

“Please don’t bother. If you wish to buy some food or a room, I will accept your gold. Else, keep it.” 

Hiccup ended up buying some food for the road and leaving a generous tip before heading in the direction Kagami gave. 

The path winded up the mountain, becoming snowier and windier the higher he climbed. 

He came around the bend of the mountainside and saw it. The stacking layers of stairs, the towering, crumbling arches, the huge black door. All the things he had seen in his dreams. This was it, for sure. 

What he wasn’t prepared for, however, were the two bandits standing outside, guarding the place. How was he supposed to get in now? 

If there was one thing he knew about bandits, it’s that they weren’t exactly smart. He led his horse back down around the bend and opted not to tether it. 

“If you get in trouble, run back to Riverwood. I’ll find you.” 

Thump, being a horse, merely mosied over to a snowberry bush and began to eat. 

“Good enough.” 

He slowly crept up the path, staying close to the mountain wall to stay out of sight of the bandits. The front of the barrow faced the mountain, and so the bandits weren’t looking there, only off to the two sides. 

He took up a small rock and waited patiently. When the bandits had their backs to each other, he threw the rock at the smaller of the two. 

It hit him in the head, and made him yelp. “Hey! Who threw that?” 

Hiccup stayed out of sight behind a pile of rubble, where there was a tiny space through which he could see. 

“You threw that, didn’t you, you oaf?!” 

“I didn’t throw nothin! I bet it fell from up there!” He pointed at the ancient arches above. 

“Fell my ass! It hit me square on me head, it did! I betcha threw it!” 

“You callin’ me a liar?” 

“I ain’t callin’ ya for dinner!” 

And just like Hiccup had hoped, the two started brawling. 

Quickly, he stole from his hiding spot and darted to the nearest column. When he wasn’t spotted, he went to the next, and the next, until he reached the door, unnoticed. 

Thankfully, the bandits had the door propped open ever so slightly, and Hiccup, in his small frame, was able to squeeze inside. 

Inside, a large part of the ceiling had collapsed, making more rubble to hide behind. The room was bigger than the grand hall in Dragonsreach, all carved out of mossy stone and illuminated by candles and filtered sunlight. Besides arches for support, there wasn’t much other cover. On the other side of the hall, he saw a campfire, with three more bandits around. And beyond them was the door to the next part of the barrow. 

“ Great ,” he thought to himself. 

Being quick to hide behind the rubble, he watched and planned his next move. 

As he adjusted his stance, he stepped on something squishy. The corpse of a skeever, a rat easily the size of a dog. 

“Ew.” 

Looking around the room, he could see a couple more. Where had they come from? 

There. A hole in the wall up on a ledge. If he could find a way there…

He had a gross idea, but there was no other way. He couldn’t take these three bandits on. He couldn’t even take one! 

As quietly as possible, he skinned the skeever and made a grotesque cape from its hide. Luckily, he was the size of a large skeever, or this wouldn’t work. He donned the cape and scuttled over the far side of the room. There was a stone pillar he had to clamor up, but if he did it quickly and quietly enough—

“What in the name of Talos is that?!” A female bandit shrieked. 

He didn’t stop. He kept going. He just had to reach the hole! 

“Another damned skeever! They just keep coming!” 

An arrow whizzed by, plinking against the wall. 

“Don’t waste your arrows if it’s not attacking!” Someone else shouted. 

That gave Hiccup enough time to leap into the hole and out of sight. 

So far, so good. He only hoped this place had a back door to leave or he was in trouble when he left. 

The hole was formed by tree roots, which gave him extra cover. It led to a hallway alight with huge braziers. Again, there were skeever carcasses, and even a dead bandit. The path was quiet for now, so he climbed down and walked quickly, staying close to the wall. The hall snaked around, descending further and further into the earth. 

When he found another guard, there was another partially collapsed arch that he could squeeze through and avoid them. 

Then, he found a new type of obstacle. 

A lever and a portcullis. A series of podiums on dais. A puzzle. 

And three dead bandits covered in little darts, no doubt, poisoned. 

Above the portcullis, the same images on the podiums were visible. The middle one had fallen, and laid on the floor, still visible at least. 

From left to right, the pictures were of a snake, another snake, and a whale. 

The podiums were turned to three eagles. 

Hiccup had to stop and contemplate the sheer stupidity of these bandits. 

He turned the podiums to match the images on the door, and then, with heightened blood pressure, he pulled the lever. 

When the portcullis opened and he was not impaled with darts, he had to let out a relieved chuckle. 

On the other side of the door, there was a beautiful table with three vials of healing potions, a lesser soul gem, and an ancient Nordic bow and a dozen arrows on it. 

He hadn’t come here looking for treasure, but he wasn’t about to pass it up! Next to the table was also a chest with a handful of gold coins. 

Not bad! 

Once his treasure was secured in his bag, he spotted a spiral staircase going down further into the dungeon. 

“Dovahkiin,” he said quietly. 

“Dovahkiin!” The voice was now unbearable, rattling him to the core and nearly knocking him off his feet. 

No going back now. 

At the bottom of the stairs, the room was dark and dank, with lots of cobwebs in the corners. The webs got worse and more thick as the hall went on. 

“Not a frostbite spider, not a frostbite spider…” Hiccup chanted as he carried on. 

At the end of the hall, a door led to a large open room. He peered inside and his heart got caught in his throat. The biggest frostbite spider he had ever seen was hanging from the ceiling. It was easily the size of the dining room table in the great hall. 

“Shit.” 

This was going to be harder to solve. He almost wished the bandits were here instead. 

But! He had just acquired a new bow!

Taking a vantage point from the doorway, Hiccup took aim and shot the spider in the thorax, making it writhe and spit its poison everywhere. 

He didn’t stop. He shot arrow after arrow, missing half the time, at the foul creature until it stopped squirming and laid on its back, its legs curled up. 

“I am never dungeon delving again. Not if there’s more spiders!” He shivered. 

Moving into the room, he saw a few human sized egg sacs, one guess at what they held. 

By the door, a partially desiccated dark elf laid with an arm outstretched. In it was a golden statue, made to look like the hand of a dragon with three claws, likely the one stolen from the Riverwood trader. Hiccup pried it out of the bandit’s hand, with the intention of returning it, and moved on, hoping that his adventure was coming to an end. 

It didn’t get any more pleasant. The next leg of the journey held the crypt; walls lined with skeletons and mummified remains of his ancestors. 

“They’re all dead, Hiccup.” He whispered as his heart thundered in his chest. 

One footstep he took gave way underneath him, and he heard the sound of a hinge creaking. He couldn’t even consider what it meant before he was smacked fully with a spiked grate. The spikes tore into his skin and ripped painfully back out, puncturing his arm, side, and leg. 

He was thrown several feet backwards, skittering on his ass before he came to a stop, limbs akimbo and stunned. All the air had been knocked out of him, and he struggled to breathe, making sounds like a dying animal. His vision blurred from the impact as he laid on the ground, unable to do anything else. 

Then the pain set in. A burning, throbbing pain all down his left side. 

He peeled his eye open, watching his clothing rapidly turning red. This was not good. He had to do something, but what? He had gotten some healing potions earlier in the dungeon, right? He fumbled around in his bag as his pulse thundered in his ears. He was growing tired very quickly. He then grabbed a muted red vial, the color for healing he had grown accustomed to seeing at the healer's hut from all the blacksmith accidents over the years. He downed it and felt the liquid trickle down his throat and into his stomach. Within seconds, his vision flashed yellow and his strength returned. His puncture wounds healed for the most part. Now they were simply scratches. He considered taking another potion, but opted against it in case he got hurt again. He’d have to have Gothi look at his wounds when he returned. And he was going to return, damnit! 

Getting back up on his feet, Hiccup could now clearly see the round stone on the ground that had triggered the trap. 

“Note to self, watch out for pressure plates.”

The next trap he encountered was easier. A set of three swinging pendulum blades. This was just a test of timing. 

More mummified remains, and more feelings of uneasiness. Some of these remains were standing upright, with swords in hand, almost seemingly ready to spring to life and protect the barrow. 

Hiccup elected to stay quiet and move quickly. 

As he wandered over a waterfall and even a full cave, he wondered if the barrow filled out the entirety of the mountain. How long had it taken his ancestors to build this place? Why had no one gone in? Certainly if someone like him could make it this far with only a few scratches, then surely some stronger adventurers could clean it out. What a much more defensible fortress than Dragonsreach! There was so much space here too! They could have a whole city!  

The hundreds of dead bodies might pose a problem though. 

In the inner sanctum, Hiccup found the barrow in better repair, less ruins and more ancient architecture. And more stone coffins. After a while, he stopped appreciating the work that went into building such a mausoleum, and instead wondered where all these corpses came from. It was easily a city’s worth, but most were buried in armor and weapons. Were these all warriors killed in battle? Or just buried to look like it?

Maybe he really should read those books he told his father he read. 

Finally, he came to a dead end. A wide, arched hallway, with murals carved into the walls. Each mural depicted what looked like a burial. At the end of it all was a circular carving. 

It had three ebony rings, each inlaid with an ivory pendant. And like the podium at the beginning of the dungeon, these pendants featured animals. 

In the center was another circle, with three holes in it. 

Was this what he came for? Surely not. A door perhaps? But how to open it? 

The three holes were not aligned. The middle was higher than the others. 

“The claw!” He nearly shouted. 

Indeed, when he took the dragon claw out and inserted it, the claws inserted perfectly in the holes. But as he tried to turn it, nothing happened. 

“Another puzzle,” he lamented. 

Though he needn’t have fretted. Turning the claw over in his hands to study it, he found matching images engraved in the palm. 

Moth. Eagle. Dragon. 

He turned the rings on the door, excited that he could see the matching images. 

Now when he inserted the claw, it turned and clicked into place! 

The whole door shuttered, and the circular apparatus slid away and revealed a staircase beyond. 

The air was surprisingly fresh compared to where he had been, and he could hear running water. 

He was in another cave. A waterfall broke through the rock on the left and carved out a trench along the floor, but a bridge crossed it and led up to a looming feature. It looked like a curved wall, with old words on it. In front of it was another stone coffin, and an ancient chest. 

This felt like the place he needed to be. This was where the voice had been leading him. 

Cautiously, he approached the wall, and watched as it reacted to his presence. Three words in a language he did not recognize glowed, and beckoned him closer. Though he could not read it, he understood. 

Fus. 

What did it mean? 

The chest, now behind him, flung open, its lid banging loudly on the floor and disturbing the bats above. 

Hiccup looked inside, and saw a pile of ancient golden coins, jewels, and on top of it all, a golden circlet with a black stone. 

“Dovahkiin,” the circlet said, pulsing with each syllable. 

Hiccup didn’t even think about grabbing it. His body acted on its own, reaching in with both hands to take hold of the crown. It was beautifully crafted, and despite moldering for how many thousands of years, it was polished to a near mirror shine. It buzzed in his hands like a trapped insect, and sent tingles up and down his spine. He was compelled, and obeyed. 

Once the circlet was on his head, he felt immense power rush through him, down to the tips of his toes. It was so much, he blacked out. 

The place he was conscious of next had to be a dreamscape. It was black, with a rolling fog surrounding him. His body felt impossibly heavy, and he was unable to do anything except sit as a creature emerged from the fog before him. 

It was a dragon, but not what he imagined one would look like. It had a soft, friendly face, like a salamander. Instead of twisting horns, it had two earflaps. Its claws didn’t look any less deadly, though. 

 “So, Dovahkiin, you have finally decided to answer my call.” It spoke with a deep lulling voice, but didn’t move its mouth. 

“You were the one that called me?”

“Yes,” the dragon circled him. “I have been calling for the Dovahkiin for a long time. Two centuries at least. It seems you finally heard me.” 

“Well, I only started hearing you call last week. But, you really think I’m this…Dragonborn person?” 

“I do not think, I know.”

“But…Gobber said they’re supposed to be some ultimate authority or proud warrior. Look at me! I’m…I’m nothing.”  

“This Gobber is correct. As Dragonborn, you will learn the way of the voice as you grow. It matters little what you look like. The voice brings power and authority.” 

Hiccup let that digest. It would be nice to have people listen to him for once. 

“The people of Tamriel will look to you for guidance as an unbiased opinion. You will find yourself in the middle of many upcoming wars, as a voice of reason.” 

“Wars? What wars?”

“Is there no conflict in your time?”

“No, there’s…well, actually…the High King was just killed…but they appointed a new king. It’s…it should be all over, right?” 

“I have seen glimpses of what is to come. A war between men. A war between men and Dragons. A war between the arcane and nature. A war among families. A war among friends. And a war among life and death itself. They will all need your guidance.”

“What if I just don’t tell anyone? Surely people can’t just assume I’m the Dragonborn…unless I get a giant sign on my back or start glowing…”

“It matters little. There are those who are attuned to the changes in nature I am associated with. They are sensing your awakening now. Doubtless, the world will know tomorrow.” 

“Great. And I bet a hundred people are going to come at me with swords to try to kill me…or at least to take this circlet. The last thing my father needs is me bringing conflict to his front porch.”  

“The world will know the Dragonborn has returned, but not who he is. It will be up to you to stand up when the time is right. And you will. I have seen it in you.”

“How could you possibly know that? Who are you anyway?”

“I have been called many names. Each Kingdom in Tamriel has a name for me. My original name has been forgotten over the years. I will respond to the name you give me.” 

Hiccup blanched. “Oh, you don’t want me to do that. I’m terrible at naming things.” 

“You will have time to think on it. What do your people call you?” 

“Hiccup. My full name is Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, son of Jarl Stoick of Whiterun, but that’s a bit of a mouthful.” 

“The son of a Jarl? How intriguing!” The dragon opened its mouth then, in a mock parody of a human smile, though it had no teeth. 

“You’re toothless.” Hiccup stated in shock. It was more of a question, but not the way he said it. 

“My name is now Toothless,” the dragon nodded sagely. 

“No! No no, it’s not! Ohhh let me pick something else!” 

The dragon came close, the heat from its nostrils fanning Hiccup’s hair. “It is the name my soulmate has given me, why would I not like it?” 

“Because it’s dumb! I should have–” he stopped. “Wait, soulmate?”

The dragon nodded. “The circlet you wear binds a human soul to that of a god. We are now connected, in this world, and the next.” He leaned in and touched his nose to his chest. 

“You’re a god!?” Hiccup yelled. 

“Yes. As the Dragon god, I prefer the one that wears my crown to be Dragonborn, which is why I have been calling to you.” 

Hiccup grew increasingly more panicked as his actions began to stack up. “Dragon god? You mean the god of Lightning and Death?! You’re Akatosh!? But you’re–you’re the head of the pantheon!” 

“I am? How interesting.”

“I can’t wear this crown. I have to give it to someone more qualified! I’ve never even fought a person, let alone fought in a war!” 

Toothless walked around him, coiling Hiccup with his tail. “You cannot take off the circlet. It is bound to you, as I am. This is your fate. It cannot be passed onto anyone else.” 

Hiccup felt weak and leaned against Toothless for support. “I…I can’t believe this. I…you said some people are learning about me right now? Anyone bad? I don’t know if I could defend myself in a fight. And I wouldn’t want anyone to take a hit for me! By Talos, I renamed Akatosh Toothless!” 

“You are already on your way to becoming untouchable by mortal men. The Word Wall you read before donning the circlet taught you the word Fus, correct?” 

“Yeah…it means ‘Force’ right?” 

“Very good! Think about force as it is applied in the natural world. You push against Nirn, and Nirn pushes back. Fus beckons that force without the reciprocate. Now, I will teach you the other two words of the Thu’um.” 

Toothless roared at the ground and words appeared, in the ancient text just like the Word Wall. 

 Ro. Da.

“‘Ro’ in your tongue means balance. Combined with Fus, it gives precision to your Thu’um. ‘Dah’ means push. A thu’um that combines all three can be powerful and deadly. Be careful. I give you this Thu’um because I heard its echo in your world not too long ago. Someone else knows it.”

“That had to be Drago! He killed High King Torygg with a shout. My father said witnesses saw him collide with the wall and all his bones were shattered.” 

“As I said, the Unrelenting Force is a deadly Thu’um. It is also one of the easiest to comprehend. It does not surprise me that someone would know it. I do wonder where he learned it from, though. The Greybeards perhaps.” 

“Gobber mentioned them too! They live on a mountain or something?” 

“Correct. The Throat of the World. The tallest mountain in Tamriel. The Greybeards are monks that study the way of the voice.” 

“So I could learn shouts from them?” 

“Certainly. You will have to go to them. You can also learn shouts from Word Walls, like you saw not long ago. And I will teach you shouts when I believe you are ready…but I have been removed from Skyrim for so long with no one to talk to, I’m not sure if I remember them all.” 

“Are you going to be able to see through my eyes and talk to me whenever?” 

“For now, we will speak while you are asleep. As our bond grows, the more one we will become.” 

“I see.” 

“There is another group who is learning about you now as well. They will have to seek you out, as they are impossible to get to.” 

“Who?” 

“The Psijic monks. The Guardians of the Miraculous.” 

Hiccup frowned. “What’s a Miraculous?” 

“The crown on your head is a Miraculous. A jewel that connects the soul of a human, and that of a god. The Psijic monks have sworn to keep track of them, but these jewels often have a mind of their own. One of their order will seek you out, no doubt.” 

“Do they know any shouts?” 

“No. And it’s likely they will only take note of you before disappearing again. They are rather hands off.” 

“So…I should visit the Greybeards, and I’ll be visited by these…cystic monks.” 

“Psijic monks.” 

“Right. Anything else I need to know?” 

“All in due time, my Hiccup. Now, you should probably wake up.” He reared back and unleashed a thunderous roar right in Hiccup’s face. 

Hiccup startled awake for the second time that day, still on the floor of the cave in the burial mound. He glanced around, checking his surroundings. No bandits or skeevers or spiders had found him. He was alone. 

He absently went to scratch his head, and touched the circlet. He tried to remove it, but it was just as Toothless had said. He couldn’t take it off. 

“What am I going to tell dad?” He lamented. 

He considered this as he gazed over the pile of gold still in the chest in front of him. He earned it, after all of this. So he shoveled it all into his satchel, and then shouldered it. 

“Right. Now to figure out how to get out of here.” 

He looked back the way he came, lamenting the long walk and all that he had to sneak past. As he studied the room, he found another set of stairs not too far away, leading towards the wall.

He followed them, noticing that there was a lever built into a podium next to the wall. 

“Oh please be a back door…” 

As he pulled the lever, a doorway in the stone gave way to reveal a tunnel, and daylight glowed at the other end. 

“Yes!” 

Hiccup ran down the tunnel, elated to see the sky again, and proud to have finished his quest unscathed. 

But as he came out of the mouth, he smacked face-first into a bandit. 

“Well well. Isn’t this interesting?” He cracked his shoulder. “Told the boss it was crazy to patrol this back entrance, but he didn’t care. I should tell him he was right.” 

Hiccup panicked, looking for a way out. The tunnel had ended rather abruptly, and if the bandit hadn’t been there, he likely would have run off a cliff.

“So kiddo, whatcha find in there? Let me see that pretty crown.” 

It happened on instinct. The bandit reached forward, and Hiccup sucked in a lung full of air. 

“Fus Ro Dah!” 

The blast echoed across the landscape, making nature itself grow silent. 

The bandit ragdolled right off the cliff, being flung several feet before falling and rolling down the mountain like a limp sack of potatoes. 

Hiccup peered over the edge, only to see the body still and unmoving. 

“By the nines, I killed him.” 

Hiccup glanced around the cliff edge, looking for a way down. There had to be one if the bandit got up there in the first place. He found a steep, narrow path along the wall that he could shimmy down if he was careful. 

It led to a rock, which led to another rock, on and on, until he finally reached the road. 

Exhausted from the descent, he sat on a stone to catch his breath. The sun was now making its way to dusk, and night would be upon him soon. He had spent more time in that dungeon than he thought! 

He whistled for Thump, assuming it was pointless as his horse had either wandered to Riverwood or was still on the other side of the mountain. But fortunately, the blessed sound of horse hooves trotting across the ground graced his ears…shortly followed by another set, and then another. 

Thump happily galloped around the corner, followed by two Whiterun guards on horseback. That couldn’t be good. 

They all came to stop in front of him. 

“Young Master Hiccup, the Jarl has been looking for you. We are fortunate to find you alive.” 

“He’s been that worried about me? But I’ve only been gone a few hours.” 

“A few hours? No. We are nearing two days of your absence. We found your horse outside Riverwood and have been tracking it, hoping he would lead us to you. Luckily, he did.” 

Hiccup stood then, on shaky legs, and mounted Thump. 

“We will hurry you back to Dragonsreach, Young Master, you look wounded.” 

“Oh, I’m okay, I just—“ he glanced down to his side, where he was punctured earlier. In the light of day, his entire side was bloodied. “It looks worse than it is.” 

But nevertheless, the guards escorted him quickly back to Whiterun. 

When they entered the city gates, townsfolk started cheering. 

“It’s good to see you alive boy-o!” 

“Welcome back from the brink!” 

“Had enough adventure for one lifetime, huh?” 

Hiccup tried to shrink on his horse, but still saw every eye on him. 

When they reached Dragonsreach, he developed a lump in his throat that he couldn’t quite swallow. The second Jarl Stoick saw him, he came running with his arms open wide. “Son! Hiccup! You’re alive!” He effortlessly lifted Hiccup off the ground and embraced him. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” 

Just as quickly as he had been lifted, he was rushed over to Gothi, the healer and court magician. He was stripped of his bloody clothes and his wounds were examined. Stoick didn’t leave his side for a second. 

“What happened? Where did you go? Who do I need to put a bounty on?” 

“Dad, dad, please calm down.” He prepared to tell his father all about his fate as the Dragonborn, but couldn’t quite find the words. His father was already overly protective of him, and if he shared the truth about his fate, chances are he’d never be allowed to leave the city walls. Maybe even Dragonsreach. 

With the way his father was acting, that might be true no matter what. 

Hiccup decided to tell the truth, just not the whole truth. He sighed. “I found some information, and it led me to Bleak Falls Barrow.” 

At the name, Gothi pulled tight on a bandage, making him wince. 

“The old Nordic burial mound by Riverwood? What possessed you to go there!?” 

“I thought there would be some information about the Dragonborn there.” 

“And? Did you find what you were looking for?” Stoick asked with a grimace. He didn’t seem too indulgent at the moment. 

“Not…not really. I found the treasure in my bag, and then this circlet.” He gestured to his head. “It’s…we’ll it’s cursed, dad. I can’t take it off.” 

Stoick looked devastated. “Cursed? What is going to happen to you?” 

“Nothing, from what I gleaned. I just can’t remove it.” 

Stoick sighed. “I suppose that is enough punishment. Can you confirm, Gothi?” 

The old woman scrutinized the circlet touching the band before breathing in the stone. She tugged on it for good measure. No, for sure this wasn’t coming off. 

Gothi was a mute, and as such, she had to communicate her findings through writing. 

Hiccup and Stoick sat awkwardly as she scribbled out her message. 

“She says,” Stoick read her note, “‘this circlet contains a vast, intense power that sleeps. It does not seem malevolent in nature. I see no reason to try to remove it at this time.’” Stoick frowned. “No need to remove it? It’s a curse!” 

“Dad, let’s just see where this goes. She said it’s not malevolent, maybe I’ll be blessed with strength or magic or—“ 

“Common sense?” 

“Harsh.” 

“Look, Hiccup. You are the only family I have. Your mother went out on an adventure and never returned. I don’t want the same for you. Please promise me your adventuring days are over, alright?” 

“I promise.” 

No one noticed he had his fingers crossed.

Chapter Text

“Solitude. What business do you have there?” Those were the first words Toothless spoke as Hiccup returned to the foggy dreamscape. 

“What?” 

“You packed your bags. Your father said he was leaving for Solitude tomorrow. For what reason do you do so?” 

“Oh, there’s been a new High King crowned. We’re going to go and show our support.” 

“A fine thing to do, considering the last one was murdered. Will you be journeying to High Hrothgar afterwards, then?” 

“Well, I don’t know when I’ll see the Greybeards. I didn’t tell my father that I’m the Dragonborn. I doubt he’ll let me out on another adventure this year.” 

“You cannot develop your Thu’um trapped inside Dragonsreach walls. You have to experience the world, delve deep into forgotten places, talk to those with different lives than yours.” 

“I need some time to come up with something. I’ve never won an argument with my father. Once he makes his mind up, that’s it.” 

“You do have time, my Hiccup, but sooner or later, the wars of this world will find you. It is your fate.” 

“I get it.” 

“Rest now, for the road to Solitude is long, and you must be vigilant.” 

—

Indeed, the road to Solitude was long. And cold. And dangerous. 

“We’ll be heading North this time, boy-o. We’re going up by Dawnstar, back down through Morthal, and then to Dragon’s Bridge.” 

“Won’t that take longer?”

“Most certainly, but scouts have reported that the Forsworn camps in the Reach have gotten really violent. Best to not even go near them. Make sure you bring your furs and blankets, lad. We’ll get into Northern snow before midday.” 

The carriage driver was a man named Hackjaw. He and Stoick were friends, which meant that Hiccup didn’t have to try to make small talk with his father for the two day journey. Instead, he grabbed every book on the Dragonborn that Dragonsreach’s library had. 

It was two books. That wasn’t very helpful, in the grand scheme of things, but it was at least reading material for the road. 

They ate a hearty breakfast before heading out, as meat would likely attract bears, Sabre cats, frostbite spiders, or horkers (“we’re not going to encounter any horkers on the road, dad.” “We might if we bring fish!”) 

Once he was well fed, they packed the carriage with their bags, and then set off toward Solitude. 

Hiccup sat in the back of the carriage, nestled between the trunks and rations. He wore a fur pelt over his lap, and the seat would be quite cozy if it wasn’t so cramped. He brought along his steel shield from his previous adventure, and crept it within arm’s reach. His bow and quiver, now stocked with iron arrows, were stowed under his luggage, so his father wouldn’t see. 

They traveled north, the same road Hiccup took to Riverwood, except the other direction. For a while, Hiccup just gazed out at the scenery, letting his mind wander. They passed many farms with windmills and cattle. Then when the city was obscured by large boulders, they passed the northern guard tower. This would be the end of the Whiterun hold. 

The guards on duty saluted as they passed by. 

They passed another lonely farm, isolated, but not out of sight of the guard tower. And then the wilds were before them. 

Up on a hill, nestled within a rocky crag, a house sat. From here, Hiccup could see the door was boarded shut and it was abandoned. He could only wonder what had caused the owner to abandon it. Too many wolves? Bandits perhaps? 

Skyrim was the northernmost country in the continent of Tamriel. Whereas summertime in most of the other countries would bring fantasies of tall grass and cooling off in streams, at least three of the nine holds of Skyrim were above the snow line. So just as Stoick said, before noon, they crossed into the frozen tundra of the Pale. 

Coniferous trees still grew, despite the clinging cold, as only the hardiest species could survive such a climate. 

There was snow on the ground, but luckily, it wasn’t snowing. 

So Hiccup hunkered down with one of the books and just hoped the reading would make the trip go faster. 

By midafternoon, they had finally begun traveling west, finally in the direction of Solitude. 

“Has that Fort always been on the road?” Hiccup asked, noticing the fat stone structure they were heading towards. 

“Aye,” said Hackjaw. “That’s Fort Dunstad, a guard outpost for Dawnstar at one time…but now it’s under Imperial control.” 

They approached the wooden gate before being halted by the guard on the wall. “Hail and well met. What is your business on this road, Nord?” 

It was hard not to come across Imperial soldiers these days, ever since Hiccup was a child, Skyrim had been a part of the Empire, though still allowed to have its own king. So the leather armor the guards wore were familiar. 

“I am Jarl Stoick the Vast, of Whiterun. I am traveling to Solitude.” 

“Forgive me, My Lord,” the guard bowed his head. “Open the gate!” 

The wooden doors opened swiftly, and the group was ushered inside, only to be shut in. 

“We’ll get you some feed and water for your horse.” 

“Is the Stumbling Sabrecat still in business?” 

The soldier smiled. “It is.”

“And is Baral Sendu still the proprietor?” 

“Of course! He makes this place the most wanted station in Skyrim. Let me show you to the tavern.” 

Hiccup, not really interested in squeezing into the crowd at the bar, mostly made up of depressed imperial soldiers, opted to warm his hands by the hearth. Up on the mantle, the taxidermied head of a Sabrecat was mounted, though squewd, and a bottle of ale was wedged in its mouth. 

“Cheeky.” He smirked. 

“Shor’s bones, our camp is being visited by nobility, what an honor!” A soldier heckled from a table nearby. 

Hiccup glanced over at him, but said nothing. Did this guy have a problem with the Jarls? Imperial or Nord, he should at least have the decency to talk to them with an ounce of respect. 

“What’s wrong, your majesty? Your crown so cold it froze your head?” 

His crown…?

Oh.

It had only been a few days, and Hiccup had already gotten used to the circlet on his head. He didn’t even feel it anymore. 

He merely shook his head, and kept warming his hands. He wouldn’t be intimidated by a soldier to leave this warmth before he was ready. 

“What are you up to, Lucan?” Another soldier asked, joining the first at his table. 

“Just pestering our guest here. I think he’s important.” 

“Say, I think you’re right, he’s got a royal crown and everything.” The second soldier chuckled.

“Is that your da over at the bar? The great big burly one?” They gestured to Stoick who was laughing joyfully with the barkeep. 

“The Jarl of Whiterun, yes,” Hiccup said calmly. Would that be enough to get the Imperials to shut up?

Apparently not. “So in Skyrim, the Princes wear crowns too? Do they just hand them out here?”

Hiccup sighed. “No, they don’t.” He allowed the annoyance to bite into his tone. “I delved into a burial mound, looking for adventure, and found a cursed circlet. I can’t take it off.” 

The two soldiers were quiet for a while and then started laughing.

Hiccup rolled his eyes. 

A fur lined hat plopped onto his head then, as one of the soldiers adjusted it so the circlet was covered. “I have to admit, I feel guilty now. You should probably keep that covered though, especially on the road. It’s not smart to flash any gold out there.” 

“Thanks for the tip.” Hiccup hunched his shoulders. In truth, he had prepared to wear a hood, but forgot it with all the other things he needed. 

Before long, Stoick and Hackjaw had finished their drinks, and Hiccup had thawed his fingers. It was back out into the cold. 

“Keep the furs on, Lad. We’ll be in the snow line for a bit longer. We’ll stay the night in Morthal and then arrive in Solitude tomorrow around dinner time.” 

“Ugh. Morthal? Isn’t that place crawling with spiders and those big bug things?” 

“The Charus?” Asked Hackjaw. “Yes, they’re out in the swamps. But we’re not going through the swamps. Too dangerous. We’re sticking to the snowline until Dragon Bridge.” 

Hiccup adjusted the furs on his lap. “If the choice is between snow and spiders, I’ll take the snow, I suppose. I’ve had enough of spiders.”

Stoick turned around in his seat. “You say that like you’ve actually encountered a frostbite spider.” 

“The burial mound had a big one in it,” he admitted. 

“And how did you get around it?”

“I shot it with a bow and arrow…an old bow that I found.” 

Stoick and Hackjaw laughed. “If you killed it with a bow, it must have been on its last legs. A spider’s carapace is too tough for arrows.” 

Hiccup decided not to argue and clarify that he had shot its underside. His father would continue to be a skeptic. “Then I was lucky, or had a good shot.” 

Stoick reached back and ruffled his hair. “Well, a kill is a kill, so you should be proud.” 

“Well, thanks, I guess.” 

“We’ve got some time to kill, why don’t you tell us about your adventure?”

Hiccup hesitated. “And you won’t get mad at me for my reckless behavior?”

“I was only mad at you for being so late. I can’t help but be proud that my son was called to adventure. It runs in our blood, afterall.” 

Hiccup sat up a little straighter, and began his tale. He skipped over and fudged the information about Toothless and the Dragonborn, and kept it to simple adventuring. The kind his father would appreciate. 

They mostly laughed through the whole thing. Apparently wearing a skeever skin to avoid the bandits just tickled the men. There was a lot less laughing about the pressure plate trap, however. But Stoick was glad to hear it was because of an old trap and not because Hiccup tried to take on a fight he couldn’t handle. 

“I’ll admit it, lad. You’re smarter than most and braver than many more. I’ve always appreciated your problem solving skills. That’s part of the reason I had you work under Gobber. The gods sure were looking out for you on this adventure, though. I’m glad this was a one time endeavor.”  

Yeah…a one time endeavor. Hiccup had rather hoped that the full story would have given Stoick more faith in his son, but it seemed to do the opposite. 

So what was he going to do? 

Morthal appeared before them a little after the sunset. The trees obscured the residual sunlight, and the carriage was led on only by torch light. 

The faces of the guards were stark as they passed, and they glanced with critical eyes over their carriage, though no one stopped them. When they arrived at the Inn, Hiccup was quick to notice that the house next door had been burned down. Unlike some of the other capital cities of Holds, like Whiterun, Morthal had no walls. It had a steep cliff on one side and a lake in the middle. That could dissuade some creatures from wandering into town, but it looked like Morthal was down on its luck. 

“Are we not paying the Jarl a visit first?” Asked Hiccup.

“I’d rather not.” Stoick said softly. “Jarl Couffaine is a little…eccentric. We don’t have time to deal with her.” 

Hiccup held his questions and obediently followed his father into the Inn. 

Every room was vacant, and according to the keeper, had been for a while. Each of them got their own room at least. 

While Hiccup laid alone in his room, trying to drift off, he could hear the barkeeper talking to a patron at the bar. 

“Dark times indeed. High King dead, the damn wizard moves in, Hroggar’s house burns down, killing his family, and now the Jarl of Whiterun passes through town without visiting the Jarl!” 

“Hush, keep it down, will you? Jarl Stoick’s actions seem very innocent. He’s on his way to Solitude. He doesn’t have time for chit chats with a crazy woman.” 

“But the very notion that he avoided her, that has to prove it, right? Even the Jarls think she’s crazy!” 

“Whatever the case may be, it isn’t our business.” 

“I think we ought to have some business in knowing who’s in charge of our city.” 

The barkeep was quiet for a minute before saying, “you think she’s next?” 

“It’s likely. Drago will kill anyone aligned with the Empire. The Jarl’s son is off playing his music somewhere, but her daughter is impressionable. Drago could probably convince her to join his side.” 

“I would think Jarl Stoick would be next. He’s very influential, and Whiterun is in the middle of the country. He’s got a whelp of an heir that wouldn’t do anything.” 

“I bet you’re right. Wanna make a bet?” 

“If you’re trying to get out of paying your tab again, it’s not going to work.” 

“Fine.” 

Hiccup didn’t sleep very well that night. 

—

In the morning, they departed quickly before most residents had risen. Dragons Bridge was the next way point, which they would reach before noon. 

The largest bridge in Skyrim, once the only way to cross the Karth river. It was an architectural wonder, being as old and stable as it was. Rumor was it was the oldest structure in Skyrim. 

And its name was derived from the giant dragon head decoration on the top. 

A village settled nearby, named for the bridge. It had a wood mill and a tavern. It was enough for passing travelers. 

Once they had crossed the bridge, it was a straight shot to Solitude, and they had plenty of daylight to do it in. 

Hiccup reclined in the back of the cart. The majority of the journey was over, and it was rather uneventful. 

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he heard a loud thunk on the side of the carriage. The horse whinnied and came to a halt. 

“What’s wrong, Sherry?” Asked Hackjaw before an arrow struck him in the chest. 

“An ambush!” Stoick shouted. He yanked the reins from Hackjaw and snapped them, propelling the horse into a sprint. “Hang on, Son!” 

Hiccup sprawled out over the carriage, pushing everything down and forward so they didn’t fly out in the impending race. He scrambled up to where Hackjaw was draped, and wrapped a hand around the bleeding wound. 

As they raced along, Hiccup heard his father wince. He then noticed the arrow in Stoick’s arm. 

“Dad! Your arm!” 

“It’s just a poke, worry about Hackjaw!” 

They made it to Solitude in record time, not slowing down when the gate was in view. 

“Halt your carriage, Nord!” An imperial soldier yelled from the wall. 

“Open in the name of Jarl Stoick of Whiterun! We need a healer!” 

Luckily the guards didn’t argue. “Open the gates!” 

The heavy wooden doors opened just in time as the horse thundered into the city. 

“Move aside! Wounded man!” 

People along the road screamed in terror and dove out of the path of the horse. 

The streets were narrow, as they weren’t made for carriage traffic. Hiccup was almost thrown from the carriage as they rolled over rocks and curbs. 

Finally, the horse came to stop at the Blue Palace, the home of the Jarl of Solitude. 

“Call your healers! Can’t you see that a man is injured?!” 

“Two, by the looks of it,” said the guard as he helped Hackjaw down off the cart. “The Jarl has been notified of your arrival.” 

Almost as soon as he said it, several more guards and the court wizard poured out of the palace. “Please escort them to my chambers, and be gentle!” The female mage stated. 

“I will join you shortly,” said Stoick, holding his arm. “I would like to pay my respects to your Jarl first.” 

“ Dad ,” Hiccup said harshly. “You were shot!” 

As Hackjaw was carried away, a couple appeared, dressed in the finest clothes and jewelry. 

Hiccup had always thought his father was the biggest man in Skyrim, but this new man certainly was a competitor. His arms were thick, and his shoulders broad. He didn’t have a beard, which was odd for a nord, but he did have a thick mustache. At his side, a dainty elf with red eyes, black hair, and snow white skin stood. 

No doubt, this was the new High King of Skyrim.

“Ah, High King Tom, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Stoick held his injured hand out, as his good arm was still clamped around his arrow wound. 

“Jarl Stoick!” Tom began to bow, but his wife gently elbowed him. Tom grabbed his hand and squeezed warmly. “Forgive me, I…I met you once, when I was just a baker. You were our Jarl when we lived in Helgen.” 

“No apologies needed. I understand completely. Now, you are the authority over me.” 

Tom looked stricken by the thought, but stood to the side to gesture inside. “Please come in! We’ll call for Angeline to look at your arm.” 

“Thank you, but it’s really not that bad. I’m much more concerned about my driver.” 

“He is being looked after by Nadja, our court magician. She’s very good! Shall I show you to the room?” 

“Please, by all means.” 

Hiccup, still in the cart, awkwardly watched as his father walked away with the new king, and he was forgotten with the luggage. 

“May I escort your horse and cart back to the stables, Young Master?” Asked another guard. “Having them here is a hazard.” 

“Oh, uh, sure.” Hiccup pulled himself out of the cart, dragging the multiple bags out with him. Then he was left alone with the luggage. “An interesting start to our visit, to be sure.” He lugged the bags inside and stood awkwardly in the lobby. Where should he put them? Surely not just leave them here? 

“Can I help you?” A young woman interrupted his thoughts. 

He glanced at her, surprised by her sudden appearance. She was a teenager, and had skin like snow and pitch black hair. Unlike the queen, however, her eyes were a glowing blue. She wore a pink dress and leggings, and looked less formal than the king and queen. 

“Uh maybe? I’m Hiccup, son of Jarl Stoick.” He held out his hand. 

She gasped a little at that, and grasped his hand. “ You’re Young Master Hiccup?! You don’t look like…you’re younger than I thought.” 

“I get that a lot.” 

“Here, let me take this…” she grabbed one of the bags. “I’m Ma—“ but before she finished her sentence, the bag slipped from her hands and hit the ground, then popped open on impact, sending clothes sprawling everywhere. “Madly clumsy. I’m so clumsy!” 

Hiccup laughed. “Hey, no harm done. I could show you all the scars I’ve gotten from my own clumsiness.” He stooped and helped her pick up all the scattered clothes. “But really, what is your name? My father didn’t mention it. You’re High King Tom’s daughter, right?” 

“Yes. I’m Marinette. Please excuse me for being so nervous. You’re the son of my Jarl, er my old Jarl. Girls back home in Helgen talked about you a lot.” 

He perked up a bit at that. “They did, did they?” 

“They described you as seven feet tall and built like a tree, and how dreamy you must be.” 

“Well…they got one thing right at least.” 

Marinette chuckled. “They also said you were sixteen, but you look closer to my age.” 

He tilted his head in confusion. She looked eighteen, easy. “I am sixteen. Just a late bloomer.” He offered an awkward laugh. 

Marinette blushed heavily. “I’m so stupid! I always put my foot in my mouth!” 

“I’m confused. How old are you?” 

“Thirteen.” 

He chuckled. “Well, now the egg is on my face. I thought you were at least eighteen.” 

“It’s the elf blood. We mature quicker, but live longer.” 

“Oh right, your mother is a Dark Elf. But I didn’t know the albino trait ran in families.”

Marinette gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah, pretty weird…” She cleared her throat. “Shall I show you to your room?”

“Lead the way.” 

She took him to the West wing of the palace, and showed him to a room with a pair of double beds. “You and your father will be here. Your driver’s room is supposed to be next door…but he might stay with the healer for a while. What happened? I didn’t hear.” 

 “I’m honestly not sure. It happened so quickly. Bandits I guess.” 

Marinette nodded. “I heard that’s a problem on the road from Dragon Bridge. I’m sorry that happened.”

“There’s worse things on the roads. Did you have a safe trip when you came here two weeks ago?” 

She nodded. “We were escorted by a group of high elves.” She grew very solemn then, and glanced at the door. “Could I…this whole thing has been very confusing, and I want to talk to someone about it. My father doesn’t want me to mention it in letters back home, but he won’t explain anything.” She grabbed one of her pigtails in a frustrated grasp. “I know we just met, but you’ve been a noble your whole life and Chloe hasn’t even been nice let alone trustworthy–!”

“Hang on, Chloe? Chloe Bourgeois? You’ve spoken to her?”

“Yes. She and her father, Jarl Andre, arrived yesterday. I was excited to have a new friend, but she just ridiculed me and went into town. I had heard most Nords look badly on Dark elves, but…” 

“It’s okay, Marinette. I wish I had been here to warn you. Chloe is notoriously cruel. But I’m willing to explain anything you need.” 

Marinette breathed a sigh in relief. 

“Let’s take a walk, then you can explain to me the situation from the beginning.” 

Hiccup was intending on letting Marinette show him around, but he was more familiar with the palace than she was. He led them to the private gardens, where they would be less likely to be overheard. The gardens weren’t very big, but provided large bushes for privacy and a nice view over the wall out to the Sea of Ghosts. 

Marinette sat down on a stone bench. “It all started two weeks ago, not long after High King Torygg…my grandfather…was killed. At the time, we thought it was sad, but had no idea it would mean anything. Then…they knocked on our door. A group of high elves in black and gold robes. They said that they were there to escort my parents here, to Solitude, as my father would be crowned High King. We didn’t believe it at first, but they explained that Torygg was my grandfather, and had my father out of wedlock.” 

Hiccup sat on the bench next to her. “I’m sure it was mind blowing, but wasn’t it a little exciting?” 

“Unfortunately, no. The high elves said that my father had to go to Solitude right then and there, or else he’d be arrested and sent to the Summerset Isles for his safety. My father agreed to go then. The elves almost didn’t let me come along, but my parents made it clear they’d regret it if I wasn’t allowed.” 

“Given the size of your father, I can imagine it was a little intimidating.” 

Marinette gave a little smile at that, but it soon faded. “We were only allowed to bring essentials or sentimental items. I really love fashion, and made all my own clothes, but I wasn’t allowed to take any with me. That was hard. I only said goodbye to one friend as I was leaving, since she was walking down the road at the time. My grandparents were in Whiterun at the time, so we didn’t get to tell them either.” 

“Do they know now?” 

“I wrote my grandmother a letter. I don’t know how long they were going to be in Whiterun, so I don’t know if she received it…” 

“Who are your grandparents? I can check with the taverns when we get back to see if they’re there.” 

Marinette rested a hand on his arm and squeezed. “That would be the nicest thing anyone has done for me since this whole thing started. Thank you. My grandparents are Gina and Roland Dupain. Though…I suppose he’s not actually my grandfather, is he?” 

“If he was in that role, he was your grandfather. Finding out there’s no blood relation doesn’t change that.” 

“Right. Thank you. That’s a better way of thinking about it. My father expressed a lot of shock and betrayal at the news.” 

“So what has you confused? I know this whole family mess will take some getting used to…”

She shook her head. “That’s something I will overcome in my own time. No, I want to know about that group of High Elves. They mentioned their name once, but I can’t recall.” 

“The Thalmor?”

“That’s it! What are the Thalmor and why did they come to sit my father on the throne? I would have thought it would have been other Jarls or some Imperials…”

“How to explain the Thalmor…how much do you know about the history of the empire?” 

Marinette blushed, her skin looking more purple with her stark white flesh. “Well, the Imperials always liked our sweet rolls! I must admit, I wasn’t a very good student. I can read, of course, Elven and Common…but history rather bored me.” 

Hiccup laughed. “You’re in good company. A lot of it is pretty boring. You know of the Oblivion Crisis, though?”

“That’s when a demon opened a bunch of portals to his plane of Oblivion on our world and almost took it over, right?” 

“Correct! The elves and Imperials called them Daedra, not demons. The last of the Septim Dynasty sacrificed himself to summon an avatar of the dragon god to destroy him and seal all the portals.” 

“And that’s when the current dynasty started, the Stone Dynasty!”

“Very good!” 

“But what does that have to do with the High Elves?”

“So, during the Oblivion Crisis, the High Elves of the Aldmeri Dominion sent armies to help defend the cities from the hordes of dremora, the minions of the Daedra. Once the Crisis was over, they sat back for a while while the Empire recovered. Then they went to the Emperor and demanded control of the Empire in exchange for their help.”

“And they gave it to them?” 

“No. The Emperor told them to piss off…so they declared war. Because Skyrim is part of the Empire, we helped fight.” 

“We lost that war, right? That was ‘the great war’ that everyone talks about happening some 30 years ago?” 

“Right again.” 

“I always wondered what that was about. But everyone just kind of assumes everyone knows, so no one explained it to me.” 

“It’s a sore subject for a lot, especially the Nords. I had to learn about it through books instead of my mentor.” 

“Oh, I see. So, the Aldmeri Dominion is in charge of the Empire?”

“More or less. They’ve left Emperor Stone on the throne, but he has to do what they tell him. Along with control, they also outlawed the worship of Talos.” 

The corner of Marinette’s mouth pulled in a sheepish grimace. “Why would they want that exactly?” 

“You know who Talos is, right?” Hiccup asked in a hushed voice.

Marinette didn’t know why he was suddenly whispering, but mimicked him anyway. “Yes, he’s the god of protection and adventure. My father said he’s the nords’ favorite.” 

“Well, that’s because he is a nord. Tiber Septim–” 

“The first of the Septim dynasty,” Marinette added. 

“Right, when he died, he was gifted godhood by the other divines. The Aldmeri Dominion don’t like him because he won a war against them with the Numidium.” 

Marinette blinked several times, and opened her mouth for clarification. 

Hiccup waved her off. “That’s not important. What is important is that the Thalmor hate Talos and all he represents. They are here to make sure the conditions agreed upon at the end of the war are fulfilled. They wanted to put a High King on the throne that would uphold the ban of Talos worship, and allow them to continue the persecution of Talos worshippers.” 

Marinette curled up on herself slightly. “And my dad is going along with that?” 

“I think that’s why my father came…and probably Jarl Andre. As far as I knew, Jarl Andre was a supporter of Drago Bludvist.” 

“The man that killed my grandfather…” 

“Yes.” 

“So…my father is doomed no matter what then? Either he outlaws the worship of Talos and is killed by Drago, or allows it and is killed by the Thalmor!” Tears began to well up in her eyes. “I hate this! We didn’t ask for this! It’s stupid and horrible and–” 

“Calm down, Marinette,” Hiccup rested a hand on her shoulder. “It is stupid, but I think your dad is going to be alright. Drago is being watched by the Imperials and the Thalmor, if he even leaves the walls of Windhelm, I think he’ll be arrested and executed.” 

“But I don’t want him to outlaw Talos worship either!” 

Hiccup held a finger to his lips, begging her to not say stuff like that. “Neither do I or my father, or the other Jarls that stand with the Empire, but we can’t fight another war.” He rolled his eyes. “Though, I’m sure Drago would love a civil war.” 

“Well. We’ll just have to wait and see how this turns out. Maybe he’ll wait until my new uncle Oleg is old enough to take the throne.” 

“We would be so lucky.” He stood. “We should probably get back inside before anyone thinks we’re up to no good.” 

“Good idea! I could just see Chloe lying to get us in trouble.” 

Once they returned inside, Stoick was quick to find them, now changed with his arm in a sling. “Ah son! There you are! I was beginning to worry!” 

“Sorry dad. Oh! This is Marinette, High King Tom’s daughter.” 

Marinette bowed at the waist. “It is an honor, Jarl Stoick.” 

“Please, the honor is mine, Princess.” 

Marinette blushed again, letting out a little ‘eep!’ of embarrassment. 

“How’s Hackjaw?” Hiccup asked. 

“The mage says he will be fine, but most likely resting for the rest of our trip.” 

“And you?”

“Fit as a fiddle! The sling is a precaution. The herbalist used a healing potion on me, but apparently I can re-tear the wound if I’m not careful. Back in my day, healing potions brought you back up to peak condition!” 

“And you also walked to school uphill both ways in a foot of snow,” Hiccup smiled smugly. 

Stoick cuffed him on the back of the head. “Don’t sass me, boy. Now, go get changed for dinner, you still have blood on you from the ride in.” 

Hiccup looked at his shirt, wide eyed. That was the second shirt ruined by blood this week! 

“I better change as well, or I might get ridiculed for coming to dinner in ‘commoners clothes’. See you later, Hiccup.” 

“Bye Marinette.” And he left with his father back to their quarters. 

When they were far enough away, Stoick asked, “so? What did you learn?” 

“What?” 

“Talking to the lass. What did she tell you? I didn’t get to have a proper conversation with the High King.” 

“Oh, well. Not a lot.” He recounted what she had said about the Thalmor basically abducting her family. “She didn’t even know who the Thalmor were. I had to explain it to her.” 

“And what about…the Big T? How does her dad feel about him?” 

“Based on what she said, he probably feels the same about him as you do.” 

Stoick gave a relieved sigh. 

“Oh! She said Jarl Andre and his daughter arrived here yesterday!” 

“Jarl Andre? Of Riften? Why…why he hates the Empire! Why would he…” 

“A spy maybe? Drago couldn’t send anyone else with such a high risk.” 

“It’s certainly likely. We’ll keep a close eye on him. You sit by the Princess during dinner. Help her if she needs anything.” Then he grabbed Hiccup’s arm sternly. “And remember—“ 

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” Hiccup finished. 

“Very good.” 

–

An hour later, Stoick and Hiccup entered the Blue Palace dining room. Sure enough, there were more guests in attendance, in the presence of Jarl Andre Bourgeois, his wife Audrey, and their daughter Chloe. High King Tom and Queen Sabine sat at the end of the table. Marinette sat at the other end. Another female high elf, who looked unfamiliar, sat in the center. 

“Jarl Stoick,” Jarl Andre stood from his place, with feigned jovial excitement wafting from him. He took Stoick’s hand and shook. “Heard about your rough journey! I’m glad you’re alright!” 

Stoick, true to his name, schooled his expression into something neutral. “I thank you for your concern. How was your trip? Riften is a long way out.” 

“Not too bad. I traveled with a group of guards, so they disposed of the bears we crossed. Now, shall we sit down?”

“You can sit by me, Hiccup, if you want.” Marinette offered. 

“Thank you.” He nodded and took his seat. Stoick sat next to him. 

Chloe, sitting opposite of Marinette, gave a smarmy smile. She was a blonde haired, blue eyed nord, but she had the holier-than-thou complex of a high elf. “Well well well, if it isn’t the Whelp of Whiterun! You haven’t grown an inch in the last five years!” 

Hiccup, gracious as he could be, just gave a passive smile and said, “I’ve gained inches where it counts.” 

High King Tom barked a laugh as Stoick elbowed his son. 

Queen Sabine took control of the situation. “Oh Jarl Stoick, you haven’t been introduced. This is Madam Lila Rossi, the new Thalmor ambassador.” 

The high elf sitting next to Tom gave a curt nod. “Charmed, I’m sure.” 

“It’s an honor, Madam Rossi.” 

“Everyone is talking about your injury, Jarl Stoick. What exactly happened?”

“I’m…not exactly sure. It happened very quickly, and we didn’t have a moment to fight back. We just ran. My guess is bandits.” 

Lila nodded in understanding. “I’m sure the High King would be quick to put a bounty out on the culprits…unless of course, it was actually Falmer hunters?” She swept her amber eyes over to Sabine. 

“It wasn’t the Falmer,” Stoick insisted. “I’ve seen Falmer arrows, and this was a run of the mill iron arrow. Besides, it was the middle of the day, the Falmer only come out at night.” 

“That’s good! The deep elves are very dangerous. I’m sure a group of bandits would be much easier to deal with.” 

Audrey Bourgeois spoke up for the first time. “So, you’re rather displeased with the presence of the Falmer as well?” 

Lila laughed. “Displeased? No, I’m livid that they’ve been allowed to thrive. If they were capable of morality and negotiations like the Forsworn, I would be willing to hear them out, but at this point, they’re just animals. They kill without prejudice. They need to be dealt with.” 

“And I understand your concerns, Madam Rossi,” Tom replied. “But with the death of…my father, and Drago Bludvist still at large, I’m not concerned with the Falmer at this time. Please understand.” 

Lila just gave a petulant flick of the eyes over to Sabine, and then to Audrey and Andre. “I believe that’s fair. The time will come to act, however, one day.” 

Chloe, who didn’t seem very invested in the grown up conversation, interjected, “Oh Hiccup! I love your crown! Where did you get it? Are you trying to convince us that you’re someone important?” She giggled. 

Andre and Audrey tittered as well. 

Hiccup felt his face burn in embarrassment. He glanced at his father. 

“Go ahead son, tell them where you got it.” Stoick took a bread roll from a basket. 

Hiccup sighed. “I was interested in learning more about our history. I had some information that led me to….a nordic burial mound.”

Lila leaned in slightly, interested. “A burial mound you say? How intriguing. Did you find what you were looking for?” 

“Not exactly…anyways, I found this circlet, and only figured out it was cursed after I put it on.” 

Lila’s eyes lit up. “A curse? What did it do?” 

“I just can’t take it off. That’s all.” 

Chloe laughed obnoxiously. “That’s all?! Even your curses are pathetic!” 

Stoick just laughed breathlessly. “Well, at least he’s cured of adventuring from now on.” 

“Yeah…real bummer…”

Marinette was looking wide eyed at Hiccup. “You went into a burial mound? That’s really amazing!” 

“Uh, it’s not as amazing as you might think. It was pretty gross and full of traps.” Hiccup rubbed his arm that had gotten impaled with a grate. 

Suddenly, the door slammed open, a guard rushing into the room. 

“Y-yes?” Tom asked, getting to his feet. “Is there something you need?” 

“Please forgive my intrusion! I have urgent news for the High King and Jarl Stoick!” 

“Then speak,” demanded Stoick. 

“Helgen…has been destroyed.” 

“What?!” Tom shouted. 

“They say it was a dragon. A dragon burst through the ground and swallowed the town…nothing is left.”

Chapter Text

“Is this supposed to be a joke?!” Stoick shouted, leaping to his feet and knocking his chair over. “I won’t have this nonsense about dragons destroying towns!” 

“Sire, I’m just repeating what the survivors have said.” 

“Survivors? Who are they? What did they say?” Tom asked. 

“As you know…” the guard began slowly, gently, “Helgen has an Imperial Stronghold. Some soldiers were returning from patrol when they saw it happen. They went to the Western Watchtower in Whiterun and sent a courier to us. I’m sorry.” 

Marinette stood abruptly and ran from the room, without saying a word. 

“What of my parents? Roland and Gina Dupain? Were they still in Whiterun?” 

“The courier confirmed that they were still in Whiterun when the attack happened. They’re okay.” 

Hiccup quietly stood and in a hush told the queen, “I’ll let Marinette know.” 

With tears in her eyes, she nodded in gratitude. 

As he left, he could hear Tom declaring he wanted to see what happened, and his father trying to calm him down and persuade him to stay in Solitude where it was safe. 

Hiccup wandered the way Marinette had disappeared, a haze falling over his mind. 

Helgen, destroyed. Not just sacked, but swallowed, by a dragon of all things. He’d have to talk to Toothless about this. Hadn’t he mentioned there was going to be a war between men and dragons? He had hoped that would come later, and not a few days after discovering he was Dragonborn. 

Would he have to face this town swallowing dragon? Who else could? 

Hiccup followed the sounds of sobbing until he was outside a bedroom. He knocked on the door. “Marinette?” 

She didn’t answer, except for more crying. 

Gently, he opened the door, letting her anguished cries wash over him. She was halfway draped over her bed, clutching the sheets with her fingers, and sobbing into the blankets. 

He felt like he was intruding. He did want to assure her that her grandparents were at least safe, but this felt like a private moment. 

“I’m sorry,” she choked, barely containing her sorrow. 

“ You’re sorry? Whatever for?” 

“I-I-I’m supposed to be a Princess. I should be calm and graceful, but I’ve been nothing but a mess in front of you!”

He knelt beside her. “Marinette, please don’t worry about that. You’re allowed to mourn things. I only came here to let you know that they found your grandparents, safe and sound in Whiterun.” 

A fresh round of tears sprang up before she flung herself at him and wept on his shoulder. “Thank you! Thank the gods! Thank Talos!” 

Hiccup was startled at first, never before dealing with a crying girl, but he eventually decided that hugging her back as long as she needed it was the best choice. He held her while she cried, whether from relief or more grief, he didn’t know. She was basically a stranger still, but she was just a kid. A kid with not a friend in the world, without her home. The Blue Palace was where she lived for now, but it was no home. 

Finally, after a long time, she pulled away. “I’m sorry…I just…” 

“It’s fine,” he assured, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Think of it like we passed another stepping stone in our friendship.” 

“Friendship?” 

“Yeah! I mean, unless you weren’t expecting to be friends with me?” 

“No! I mean yes! I mean—you’re the Young Master…” 

“And you’re the High Princess, it’s not that big of a stretch, is it? Besides, I have plenty of friends that are just…regular people!” He hated calling people ‘commoners’. 

 Marinette was quiet a moment. “You sure? I don’t really think I’m the type of person you’d want to be friends with.” 

“What? Because you’re a girl ?” 

She laughed. “Yes, actually.” 

“Well I can handle being friends with a girl…as long as she’s nice, and not like Chloe.” 

“And I can handle being friends with a boy as long as he doesn’t pull my hair.” 

“Has that happened to you before?” 

She groaned. “Yeah, this stupid boy back home always teased me and pulled my hair–” she suddenly stopped, her breath hitching in her throat. “He’s dead now, though, isn’t he?” 

“Don’t think of it like that. He, and everyone else, are in Sovngarde.” 

“You really think so?” 

“That’s where Nords go when they die in battle, or valiantly. What’s more valiant than–well, maybe I should shut up.” 

She sniffed and wiped under her eye. “I appreciate it, all the same.”  

“Would you mind telling me what Helgen was like? I didn’t get to go there much.” 

She leaned her head back against the bed. “Small, mostly. It was walled in, unlike most towns like Falkreath. It had an Imperial outpost there, in an old fort. Most of the soldiers were pretty nice, actually. They were happy to have my dad’s bread, so they came in pretty regularly. Other than that, we had an apothecary who made healing potions, a tavern where most people would go at night to drink or tell stories. We had an orc blacksmith. I used to think he was really mean. One time I asked him if he had any metal shavings I could use as pins for my sewing. He told me not to bother him with such dumb requests. I ran home crying. The next day, he came to the bakery with a set of pins and sewing needles. I guess that was his way of telling me not to beg for scraps.” 

“Do you…still have those needles?” 

“No. Most of them got lost over time. I had to leave my sewing kit behind and whatever pins I had are gone now. Not that I’m going to need them for anything. Apparently, I have no need for making my own clothes anymore.” She scoffed. “I’m not inheriting the throne. What do they expect me to do for a living? Mooch off my estranged uncle?” 

“Use me as an example! I will be taking the throne after my father, and I have taken up a trade!” 

“What trade?”

“Blacksmithing.” 

She seemed surprised. “I…didn’t take you for a smith…” 

He flexed his arms. “Really? With all this, you think I couldn’t be a smith?” 

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be, I just didn’t expect it.” 

“Uh huh, sure. Nice save.” 

They stayed like that for a while, sitting on her floor and talking. Every once in a while, Marinette would grow melancholy and think of her home. Hiccup allowed her to grieve, but kept her company in an effort to ease the pain. 

Eventually, a servant knocked on the door. “Excuse me, Young Master? Your father is looking for you.” 

Hiccup stood up, stretching. “It is rather late, isn’t it? I should probably go.”

“Thank you for cheering me up. I appreciate it.” 

“No problem. Really, I enjoyed talking to you. You’re a lot more entertaining than the adults.” 

She chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean. Goodnight Hiccup.”

“Goodnight Marinette.” 

Back at their quarters, Stoick was already in his bed clothes. “There you are, lad! You keep scampering off.” 

“Yeah…I ended up finding Marinette and talking to her for a while. Seemed like the right thing to do.” 

“A good move. And not to be political, but it does reflect nicely upon us. She is a bit young for you now though…”

“Don’t go there, dad. You know I’m against arranged marriages.” 

“I wasn’t insinuating arranging anything! I’m just saying…” 

“Marinette just became a princess. She needs a friend that understands the idiosyncrasies of high noblities. Besides, she’s nice…but she’s not really my type.” 

“Oh? And what is your type?” 

Hiccup blushed, not really wanting to admit he fantasized about a woman that could bench press him. Instead, he said, “blonde.”

Stoick laughed. “I’ll keep my eye out!” 

–

Hiccup knew he was asleep when that increasingly familiar black void consumed him. The fog was a comfort, and he was nestled against the flank of a huge beast. It breathed under his touch, and greeted him with a warm puff of air. “Hello, my Hiccup.” 

Maybe another person would have had more reverence. Maybe they would have bowed, or prostrated themselves in front of this god, the Dragon God, the Lord of the Nine Divines. The God of Lightning and Death itself. 

But if there had been a time of reverence, it had passed. Hiccup simply reached over and petted the giant lizard on the head. In response, Toothless curled around him, resting his head in his lap. This felt truly natural and correct, a bond between two souls. 

But while the moment was peaceful, tragedy lay boiling under the surface. “Helgen was attacked by a dragon,” Hiccup said, his throat thick with emotion. “They say it was swallowed.” 

“As I feared,” Toothless said calmly. “I had hoped you’d have more time to learn the Thu’ums.”

“More time? You mean–”

“You are the one that will have to face this dragon…if it is indeed who I believe it is.”

“There’s more than one dragon to worry about? I thought they all died! You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?” 

“Most of the dragons of the old ages are dead. But ascending to Dragonhood has been achieved. Sometimes as a blessing, and sometimes as a curse. I am not the only one to grant this power, and I have been asleep for a long time.” 

“So you have no idea?” 

“Not a clue.” 

“Great…”

“I will know more once we investigate the remains of Helgen.” 

“Wait, you want me to go there?! What if the dragon is hanging around?!” 

“Regardless of who the dragon is, devouring the town will have satiated it for the time being. It has likely gone somewhere to rest.” 

“So…it’s full?” 

“For now. You should have time to visit the Greybeards before another attack.” 

Hiccup shook his head. “I want to be the hero you’re expecting me to be, but…are you sure I can’t pass this circlet off to someone more qualified? Someone adept with a sword?” 

“The Dovahkiin is not chosen by his merit and skills alone, but through blood. The same blood as Tiber Septim. You are young, my Hiccup. At an age and size where most things are overwhelming. But with age, you will learn to deal with it. Can’t swing a sword? Practice your Thu’um, and hone it like a blade.” 

This was a thought that never occurred to Hiccup. After all, He threw that bandit off that cliff with a shout. They were obviously powerful. 

“I…have to run away from home, don’t I?” 

“That is a decision I cannot make for you. You already know how I feel.” Toothless wriggled his head, pressing Hiccup further into his side. “Rest for now. Today has been difficult. You had great wisdom in your words of comfort to Marinette.” 

“Really? I felt like I stuck my foot in my mouth.” 

“She was able to laugh, and cried when needed. You are more wise than you think.” 

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head.” He scoffed. 

—

In the morning, Hiccup collected his belongings, not that he unpacked much at all, and brought his bag out to the lobby. It was early, but it was time to leave. 

“Thank you very much for your hospitality,” Stoick told King Tom with a hardy handshake. “It was very pleasing to meet you and your family. If not for the emergency, I would have liked to stay longer.” 

“We understand, Jarl Stoick. Perhaps one day, when things calm down again, you and your son could visit again.”

“I would like that.” 

“Hiccup!” Marinette’s panicked voice came from upstairs. She nearly lunged over the railing to see him, and then rushed down the stairs, her hair a mess and still in her bedclothes. She ran at him and tackled him into a hug, nearly knocking him off his feet. 

“Marinette?!” 

She curled her fingers into his shirt and sniffled. He realized she was sobbing. “You can’t be leaving already. I need you. I lost all my friends, my home…I can’t lose you too.” 

“Aw lass, you aren’t losing him.” Stoick petted her hair in a very paternal way. “He’ll be back.” 

Marinette pulled away, embarrassed about her outburst, but reluctant to let him go just yet. “I’m sorry…” 

“You can write to me whenever,” he promised. “And when it’s safe, I can come see you in Solitude, or you can come visit Whiterun. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer and be here for you.” 

She shook her head, reason flowing back into her. “It’s okay. Whiterun needs you. This is bigger than me…bigger than all of us.” Finally, she let Hiccup go completely. “I’ll be alright.” 

He smiled at her. “You’re tougher than you think.” 

Tom rested a warm hand on his daughter’s shoulder, and told Stoick, “We’ll take care of your driver and send him back when he’s well.” 

“Thank you. We appreciate it.” Stoick nodded. 

“You’ll be safe on the way back, yes?” Queen Sabine asked. 

“No promises.” Stoick rubbed Hiccup’s head. “He’s driving.” 

“What?! Me?!” 

“You don’t expect your Jarl to drive his own cart, do you?” 

“I mean, you got me there, but if we crash, it’s your fault.” 

The new High King of Skyrim and his family waved off their friends from Whiterun before the doors to the Blue Palace closed. 

Marinette sighed, despite her best efforts. 

“You grew very fond of that boy,” noted Sabine. 

“Can you blame me?” Marinette tugged at her hair. “Ever since this whole thing started, I’ve felt so lost and overwhelmed. You and dad have been so busy trying to fit into your roles that I’ve had no one to turn to! He’s the first person to sit me down, answer my questions, and just be genuinely nice to me! It felt like I could breathe for a minute!” 

“Well,” Sabine smiled. “You are the High Princess now. You are definitely in his class if you are interested in him.” 

“What? Oh!” She blushed. “No no! That’s not—! I mean, he’s nice and all but he’s sooo not my type.” 

“Then what is your type?” Tom asked, a glint in his eye. 

“Uh…” Marinette didn’t really know how to describe her type. A tender guy? Gentle with a good sense of humor? Hiccup was funny, but he was a little too sarcastic. And…she didn’t really think he was cute. “Blond?” She finally answered. 

Tom and Sabine just shared knowing glances. 

—

Marinette dressed in her formal attire. She and her family were paying their respects to their fallen friends and family in a ceremony at the Temple of the Divines. It would be a grueling process, as a candle would be lit for each person lost in the attack, since there were no bodies to inter; and praying to the Gods for their arrival into Sovngarde. 

Who better to know the residents of the town than the ex-baker and his wife?

The Temple was a tall building, with vaulted ceilings and lit sconces. Two rows of pews led up to the apse where all the shrines were located in little alcoves. 

Helgen didn’t have a church or graveyard, as most traveled south to Falkreath to bury their dead in the large graveyard there. That being said, Marinette was slightly familiar with the divines, as most Nords were at least a little religious. She reviewed them as she looked over their shrines as the priests began reciting the funeral rites. 

In the middle was the shrine of the Dragon, the god of Lightning and Death. On his right side, a tragically empty slot where Talos was supposed to be, the guardian of Protection and Adventure. Then came the less important Divines, though they had their role. There was the Bee, Goddess of Beauty; The Rabbit, God of Time; The Goat, God of Commerce; The Snake, God of Luck; The Mouse, Goddess of Love; The Songbird, Goddess of Earth, Wind, and Sea; and The Phoenix, God of Wisdom and Logic. As long as she knew this much, she could fake her way through all of this. 

She lit a candle for each of her friends, a girl and two boys. She lit a candle for the blacksmith. She lit a candle for the trader. She even lit a candle for the boy that pulled her hair. And when all the well wishes of these strangers around her became too much, and her tears had thoroughly soaked her face, she excused herself to the basement of the temple for a moment of silence.

The grief of losing everything, even if her parents were still here, even if she had a new home now, even if she was in a more fortunate position than most, her past was erased. There was no safe comfort for her to return to. 

She entered the basement, seeing a small storage area, and then a room behind a gate. Surely no one would mind if she went into the gated area to sit down? 

The gate wasn’t locked, so she proceeded inside, among the dusty and cobwebbed furniture. As she rounded the corner, she stopped. Part of the wall had been broken through. 

“What…?” She whispered to herself as she moved closer. 

“ Of course it would be barred off. Why wouldn’t it be? ” A disgruntled voice came from the other side of the hole in the wall.

Marinette panicked, as she got the distinct feeling she wasn’t supposed to be here. 

She rushed back into the room, and ducked behind a shelf that was pulled away from the wall. There, she watched the Thalmor Ambassador Lila Rossi emerge from the cave, her face contorted in rage. “All that work to get stationed here, and I can’t even get into the tomb! I’ll have to come back with a hammer or something…” She grumbled as she stormed out. 

Marinette heard her leave through the gate, and then, to her horror, lock it behind her. 

“No…” Marinette whispered to herself. 

“Ah! Ambassador Rossi, I didn’t know you were down here,” a priestess said. 

“Yes, I just…needed a moment. This tragedy with Helgen…it’s a lot. I came to pray to the Dragon for mercy from his kin, and then the funeral rites began. So much sadness and grief. I needed a moment.” 

“Of course. Very understandable. But may I recommend you rest upstairs, this place…it isn’t good for the soul.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Marinette wondered what Lila’s face looked like, because her tone sounded almost condescending. 

“Well,” the priestess began. “Beyond those gates are the catacombs of Potema, the Wolf Queen.” 

“Potema?”

“Potema Septim, the mother of Pelagius the Mad. She ruled Solitude in the early 3rd era. She even led a rebellion against the empire!” 

“Oh wow,” said Lila, with false reverence. 

“But of course, the thing that she’s most renowned for, is her necromancy. She was very powerful in the dark arts, leading her army of living soldiers, and then raising them to fight again.” 

“My, she must have been looked upon most favorably for that.” 

“Oh, not at all! She was cruel and evil! She’d sacrifice the lives of hundreds for her own comfort. When she died, she wasn’t interred with the rest of the royal family, but down here, in her own area, where the lingering evil on her remains would not infest the dead.” 

“My! How dark! I had no idea that Solitude held such a secret.” 

“The Wolf Queen is our history. As much as we don’t like it, we have to acknowledge it, lest we repeat our history.” 

“Oh certainly! Then let’s not chat here. Shall I tell you of the King of the Maormer?” 

Marinette listened as they talked up the stairs, and then silence. 

“I probably should have said something while they were still there.” She lamented. She went over and tried the gate, only to find it truly was locked. 

She debated screaming for help, but worried about the likelihood of getting in trouble. 

Maybe there was another way out? 

There was only one way to find out. She stared down the broken wall, before delving into Potema’s tomb. 

The room inside had a similar layout to the Blue Palace, but heavily covered in cobwebs and in disarray. Most of the wall was made of stone, and the doorways in arcs. It was eerily quiet, as not even the chants from the temple penetrated the thick stone. 

She made her way down a flight of steps, and then her path came to an end. 

“Oh, that’s what she meant.” 

The rest of the way was barred, with literal iron bars stretched from floor to ceiling. She glanced around, looking for a lever or a button to activate the bars, but no luck. She touched the bars and sighed. 

“Guess I’m going back and screaming to get out.” 

Suddenly, without seemingly any prompting, the bars slid away and the path was clear. 

Marinette hesitated for a moment, before heading in. As she carefully walked across the stone floor, she swallowed a lungful of dusty air. 

This place felt wrong.

Chapter Text

What was once a beautiful place of worship, or perhaps part of the palace, was now falling to pieces from neglect. The Tomb of Potema, what a hideously dusty place.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette saw a figure, and she turned rapidly.  

A dried out, mummified corpse stood up in an alcove in the wall. It startled her at first, since it was a corpse, but she relaxed ever so slightly when she remembered such a thing was dead and not about to move. 

“Right…a necromancer’s tomb. So, lots of undead servants.” She crept closer, waving her hand in front of it. “Or maybe just dead.” 

Just to be on the safe side, she took his sword. Or at least, intended to. As she grabbed it, the corpse’s atrophied fingers still held on tight. 

“Don’t make me do this, weird zombie man.” She pried his fingers off and took the ancient nordic sword. “Sorry, but I don’t know what’s ahead. I need to be prepared.”

The corpse, being a corpse, didn’t move, and so she turned to continue.

Except, the corpse was not just a corpse. It was what the Nords called a draugr, a grave dweller.

A walking dead. 

Marinette’s steps were halted with the bone chilling sound of a groan. She turned back to the corpse, to see its eye sockets open and glowing with an eerie blue flame. Marinette stumbled backwards, nearly dropping the sword. The draugr let out a roar, making Marinette scream in terror. It jerked from its place on the wall and started to come for her. 

“Swing the sword swing the sword swing the sword!” She yelled as she flailed the sword around wildly. Luckily with the speed of the draugr and the length of the sword, wild flailing was enough to make contact and decapitate the almost skeletonized remains. 

Once the body collapsed and showed no sign of movement, Marinette dropped the sword to the floor and started crying. “I didn’t need this today! I’m burying my dead! I don’t want to fight more!” She crouched on the ground, covering her face. “I don’t want this…” 

Nothing happened. No guards rushed to her rescue. No more draugr rushed to kill her. Just the damned silence of the crypt. 

“Okay…” Marinette wiped the tears from her face. “I have to get out of this myself. So I’ll get out of this myself.” She grabbed the sword, and a dusty, old, empty potato sack in case she found anything useful and moved on. 

On she traveled, down crumbling hallways and stairways that were caved in on the upper levels. She kept her steps light, and when she spotted another draugr at his post, she decapitated it before it could wake up. 

The further in she went, the less like a palace this place felt, and more like a series of torture chambers. Cages hung from the ceilings with skeletons inside. 

“To know that this was under Solitude…” 

Before long, the architecture of Solitude melted into a cave, and then something she hadn’t seen before. Flared arches leading into a round tunnel. At the end, a single lever and a caved-in doorway. 

Not getting too discouraged about the cave in, Marinette pulled the lever to see what would happen. In response, the rock in front of the door rolled away, revealing a door with an opening portcullis. Soon the portcullis closed and the door rolled out of the way, back into stone. 

Marinette sighed, but approached the doorway. She’d have to time it right, but she could make it. The portcullis came into view and she ran at the door, ducking under the yawning gate, and coming into the other side in one piece. 

Inside this new room was a large brazier burning oil from an ancient reservoir. Who knew how long it had been burning? 

Beneath the brazier laid several offerings, like dried snowberries, salts, and two healing potions. Marinette hadn’t suffered any wounds yet from her ordeal, but now she had potions in case it took a turn for the worse. She put the potions in her bag, and then opened the double wooden doors in the back of the hall. 

More ancient ruins. She wondered if this is what the ancient Nordic burial mound Hiccup explored looked like. She’d have to write to him when she got back. 

The path wound for a while, the floor littered with old urns she had to be careful not to accidentally kick. 

Soon, she came to another dead end that looked very similar to the last, though this one had three levers instead of just one. She pulled the first and the doorway shifted, eventually showing a portcullis that opened, then closed and moved away. The space beyond wasn’t another room, however, but another rock. 

“Three this time, huh?” She pulled the other two levers, making all three doors rotate. More timing, but not too hard. 

She waited for the first door to come back around, then ducked into the tiny space between the first and second doors. 

She should have thought this out better, for as soon as the first door rolled away, she was trapped in a tight, pitch black space. The rolling rocks were deafening as they scraped across the other stone. If they stopped while she was in here…

Marinette reached her hand out and felt the rock moving along to the left. Then cool metal touched her hand. She waited to feel the metal move up, and moved to the last space between the second and third door. 

When the third door rolled into place, she could see again, the lowly illuminated cavern visible beyond the gate. 

The gate opened, and she rushed into the room, grateful to be out of the close quarters. 

But perhaps she shouldn’t have been so hasty. As she took a moment to catch her breath, a fireball blasted her in the side from out of nowhere. Pained, and smoking, Marinette darted behind a nearby column for cover. She quickly patted out the burning embers on her dress. Thankfully, the burn wasn’t too bad. A little singed hair and a stinging on her arm, but she was okay. 

The tailor wouldn’t be happy to see her dress, however. 

Marinette peeked around the column in the direction the fire ball had come from. A little pink stone floated above a pillar. 

“Huh. I wonder what—“ just as she spoke, the gem created another fireball and threw it at her. 

She retook her cover behind the pillar and heard the fireball explode on the other side of the column. 

Okay, so now what was she supposed to do? Where could she go? 

Another peek revealed a doorway just beyond the fire breathing gem. 

“Talos preserve me,” she lamented. 

She peeked around the opposite side of the column, only to see a second fire breathing gem. This one also threw a fireball at her when she looked at it too long. 

 She looked around the rest of the room, but dismayed at not finding any other door. 

“Great.” She rested against the column, leaning on her back as she considered her options. Dare she run for it and maybe get burned more? 

Across from her, she spotted a skeleton. Not an undead creature, but a blackened with fire, unmoving skeleton. A shield laid in front of it, just out of its reach. Well, that warrior’s doom would be Marinette’s salvation, as she took up the shield just as another fireball was shot. The heat radiated off of it, but Marinette was unharmed. 

She made a break for the door, taking two fireballs head on. But she did make it, another step through the necromancer’s plight. 

She prepared for another trap to spring as soon as she set foot in this room, but thankfully, she had a moment of respite. The floor was dirt, and soft under her feet, a change from the harsh stone she had traveled the whole time. It was a small circular room, with only the door she had come through, and a pair of wooden doors cracked open slightly to see into the next room. 

The next leg of her journey would include a throne room. It had a much higher ceiling. Two stone thrones sat against the wall, and a huge iron gate laid over a large pit in the floor. 

The worst part though, was the corpse sitting at one of the thrones. He wore black armor, and a helmet with long horns protruding off the front. This didn’t seem like the other draugr, who had been hard and scary enough as is. This one looked powerful and deadly. 

Marinette glanced around the throne room, seeing what would come after.

Another pair of double doors on the right side of the room looked to be her exit. If she could just get there. 

Marinette almost held her breath as she stepped into the room. No movement from the draugr yet. She kept her back to the wall and slowly inched her way closer to the door. 

Locked. 

By the Nine, it was locked! 

The door made a loud clunk when she pulled on it, echoing in the huge room. 

“ Hi volaan…hi oblaan!” A withered, ancient, garbled voice spoke from behind her. 

Marinette turned to face her attacker, sword and shield in hand, and watched as it snapped into place and stood. Its hulking form rattled as it walked, the horrible creaking of dry bones rubbing together. Then he turned and faced her. His jaw dropped open. 

“ Fus Ro Da! ” The very air around his voice shifted, like the heat off scalding steel. 

Marinette was thrown off her feet, and slammed into the wooden door behind her. She was thankful her grip on her weapons were strong or they would have been lost. 

Was this how her grandfather was killed? Was this the ancient shout of the dragons?

The draugr started stalking toward her, his speed greatly diminished by decay. That may be her only saving grace! 

She staggered to her feet and hurried from the room. The hideous chattering behind her clued her in that the draugr was on her tail. 

She ran back into the fireball room, and ducked close under the gem so that it couldn’t activate. As the draugr shambled into the room, the gem activated and threw fire at the creature. 

Her joy was short lived as the draugr seemed less than bothered by the flames and continued advancing toward her. Speed was still on Marinette’s side, so she continued to back away from him while she held her shield up for fireballs. 

The room grew intensely hot as the twin gems alternated targets and blasted fireballs over and over in waves. The shield burned against Marinette’s arm, but she just grit her teeth and bared it. 

Finally, the flames licked the bones dry, and the charred remains collapsed in a heap. Marinette dodged the last fireball and ran back into the throne room, dislodging the smoldering shield from her arm. It clattered to the floor just as she collapsed into one of the stone thrones. It was the first time she was able to sit down and take a moment to breathe. 

As she placed her arm down on the armrest, her hand landed on a key. The key to the double door just to the side, no doubt. She’d get to it in a minute. 

Now that she could rest, the adrenaline wore off and her head started to throb where she had hit the door. At least it hadn’t killed her! 

She glanced at the potions in her bag. They were in muted red bottles, unlabeled. As far as she had known, that color was usually reserved for healing, or other beneficial properties like antidotes to poison or curing disease. She had two of them, one larger than the other. She uncorked the smaller one and took a sip. It tasted sour, like the medicine her mother gave her when she was sick as a kid. It just made her headache wane, so she finished it in two more gulps. Water was what she really wanted, especially since she had been crying all morning. But that would have to wait until she returned. 

Marinette took the key and opened the next room, praying the tomb would just end already. 

But alas, a long, winding tunnel awaited her. Her shield was still hot to the touch, so she opted to leave it behind. She walked with purpose, intent on making it to the end. But when she opened the next door, she froze. She felt sick as every fiber of her being yelled run run run ! But she was still in shock. 

This room, this single, circular chamber, was filled with bodies. Not just a couple, but dozens. Maybe a hundred! Who could tell? The floor wasn’t visible, but seemed to be recessed a step or two. Mummified corpses and skeletons alike were thrown into a pile. 

“Gods above…” 

To get to the gate on the other side of the room, she’d have to walk over the corpses. Holding her breath, she began. 

Crunch. 

Crack. 

Snap. 

Squish. 

Groan.

The sound stirred the dread in her soul. She gave a full body shudder as the pile beneath her shifted. Once spurred into movement, she moved quickly, scrambling to get to the gate. A lever jutted out of the wall next to the gate, and Marinette threw it into action. 

The grated metal began to rise at an agonizingly slow rate as the moans and groans of the undead grew louder behind her. A torrent of profanity spilled from her lips as she glanced back. 

The undead were slowed by the other unmoving bodies laying on top of them. It looked like not all were undead. But they clawed and squirmed as they attempted to get free. 

They were reaching for her.

Once Marinette reached the gate, she rolled underneath the small crack underneath, and then slammed the adjacent lever on the other side down. The metal door halted, and then began to close, crushing the torso of a draugr that had gotten close. The draugr continued to reach out for her, stretching their arms through the holes in the door. 

“Now I definitely can’t go back,” she lamented. 

There was a slow descent to the next door. The walls were solid rock with niches carved into them. Laying in the niches were skeletons covered in dust and cobwebs. Marinette didn’t lower her sword for a moment though. 

There was no movement from this dead, and Marinette counted her blessings. 

The door at the end of this hall was black and heavy, but she pushed it open with some effort. It thankfully made little noise to disturb whatever was inside. 

The grand hall awaited her. An oval chamber, with three levels connected by stairs. Several stone chairs sat at different levels, each occupied by an armored corpse. 

Marinette swore under her breath and started to cry, though she attempted to hold her breath to not awaken them. 

There was another heavy black door on the opposite side of the room, and if she could make it there, she might just be okay…or walk into an even bigger room with even more draugr. 

Stepping lightly, and barely breathing, she tip-toed right down the middle, the farthest away from all the corpses. Her heart pounded and her lungs burned. Her head throbbed from her impact with the door, and her arm stung from the melted shield. 

“ If there were ever a time to be graceful ,” she thought to herself. 

If the gods delivered her from this nightmare, she swore to be content with life. She’d be the perfect Princess, and grow up to help her estranged uncle on the throne. Yes, that sounded very nice. Very nice and safe and devoid of these horrible, horrible undead. 

She kicked a rock on accident and just about burst into tears. The pebble skittered across the ground, hitting distinctly on the ground. 

No movement. 

Marinette didn’t revel in this victory though, and proceeded with haste towards that black door. It was so close! So very close! 

It was heavy, and scraped across the stone as she opened it, just enough to squeeze inside. That was the trigger to awaken the draugr in the room. 

It didn’t matter. She was gone. She squeezed inside and pulled the door shut, hearing it click into place.

She waited a moment, hand on her sword, and waited for them to try to come through the door. But there was nothing. It seemed they had awoken, but not seen where she went. 

What was next? What else could there be? What could be worse? 

What lay before her was a small chamber, with a set of stairs that ascended to a throne. There was yet another door behind the throne. 

“How many chambers are there in this tomb?” She wondered aloud. 

Growing tired, Marinette ascended to the throne, and prepared to sit in it before moving on. 

But resting on the seat, was a skull. A skull that wore a gold circlet with a blue gem. 

“This must be Potema…” she reached for the crown, and then halted. “Hiccup found his cursed crown in a Nordic burial mound like this one. I wonder…” 

She was careful not to touch the crown itself, and used the skull to place it in her bag. 

When she lifted the skull, she was surprised to see two small, circular rubies resting on the stone seat. As she grabbed them, claiming them as her reward for surviving this far, she noticed they were earrings. 

“Wow…still in great condition. A little soap and water and I could wear them to dinner!” That, of course, was if she made it home for dinner. 

She placed the skull back on the stone seat. Then, as she moved to the next room, she spotted a chest. She opened it out of curiosity, to find some gold, jewels, and a handsome dagger, made of a gold material and what looked like glass. 

Maybe the next time she saw Hiccup, she’d ask him if he knew what it was. He mentioned being a blacksmith. He may know. 

Invigorated by her rewards, Marinette opened the door. 

Snow! There was snow! Snow and sunlight from way up above! She was in some sort of tower with a staircase that went up and up and up. 

As long as there weren’t any more dead people, she could handle stairs. She took her time, exhausted as she was, and climbed for several stories. 

When her legs ached, her face itched from the salt of her tears, her arms trembled, and the throbbing in her head was deafening, Marinette reached the final door, and opened it. 

The sunset over Solitude was breathtaking. The Blue Palace was just a silhouette against the orange and red sky. She could see everything from up here. The town, the palace, the harbor…

Why was she all the way up here? This was up on the mountain!

And gods above was that a long way down! 

Marinette paused for a moment, now struck with a new problem. She couldn’t possibly go back, so she had to go forward. 

Tucked against the mountain was another chest. This one looked like it was for offerings from civilians not allowed into the tomb. Digging through the loot, she found more gold and jewels (she was definitely buying more sewing supplies as a treat) and two sturdy daggers. It might be risky, but if she could wedge them in cracks in the rocks, she could make sturdier handholds to climb down. 

She cut her singed and torn skirt to above knee length, to make it easier to climb. Then she started her descent. 

Twenty feet from the bottom, one knife slipped and she fell, bumping her butt on the rock and then landing awkwardly in a snow pile at the bottom. A flawless execution, if she said so herself. 

It really wasn’t that long of a walk back to Solitude. Just some winding paths from the mountains down to the main road. The thing she was worried about the most, was how she was going to explain to everyone where she had been, and why she wasn’t mourning in the temple like she was supposed to. Did she tell the truth? Did she point out what she had seen with the ambassador? 

Maybe, just for now, she would only tell her parents the truth. She’d lie to the steward and any other council member that asked. 

As she approached the city, a guard halted her. “Hail and well met, Elf. What is your business in Solitude?” He looked her up and down in scrutiny. She was filthy, covered in blood and other horrible fluids. Her clothes were torn and burned. The question was justified. 

“I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Daughter of High King Tom and Queen Sabine.” 

The guard looked at her wide eyed. “The Princess should be in the temple, mourning Helgen.” 

She sighed. “Yes, I know. I went for a walk to clear my head, got lost, and took a tumble. Could you or someone else just escort me back to the Blue Palace? I’ve had a very bad day.” 

The guard looked a lot more sympathetic at that. “Yes, alright. I will go with you.” 

She didn’t attempt to make small talk, as she usually did with the guards. She was just too exhausted. He dropped her off at the palace and bid her a good night. 

As soon as she walked in, another guard announced her arrival and her parents came rushing to her. 

“My little croissant! My gingerbread muffin! Where have you been!? You’re injured!” Her father wept, as he swept her off her feet. 

She almost cried in her father’s arms. For a while, she didn’t think she would come out of the ordeal alive! She might not see her parents ever again! And on the day they were mourning the loss of their community! 

“I’m sorry, papa…” she cried. 

“What happened? Are you okay? We'll take you to Nadja to get looked over.” 

“It’s just bumps and scratches,” she affirmed. “I got overwhelmed during the ceremony, and went on a walk to clear my head…then I got lost and fell down.” 

Her story didn’t account for her burnt clothing or singed hair, but it seemed like her parents bought it nonetheless. She was escorted to the court magician immediately and checked over for wounds. 

With the healer, Marinette was alone with just Nadja and her parents. The door was closed, and she felt safe enough to divulge the truth. 

“Oh dear, this head wound is pretty severe. Where did you say you fell?” Nadja began mixing a healing potion from raw ingredients. 

“I…didn’t, actually. I just said that in front of the others. In truth…I went into Potema’s tomb.” 

Tom and Sabine gave her a curious look, while Nadja looked completely stricken. 

“What did you say?” Nadja asked, in a horrified whisper.

“Potema’s tomb…” Marinette then went on to describe the horrible things she had witnessed. From the gate being unlocked from the ambassador, to the undead and the shout that threw her across the room. Finally, she took out the crown and placed it on the table for Nadja to look at. “I’m not sure why I took it. It bothered me that Ambassador Rossi was going into the tomb, and I have a feeling she was looking for this. Also, I couldn’t help but think of Hiccup’s cursed crown that he found in a nordic burial mound.” She hugged herself. “Am I in trouble?” 

Tom kissed her forehead. “No, my cupcake. It was obviously an accident you went into this horrible place.” 

“We’re just relieved you’re okay!” Sabine smiled warmly. “What an adventure!”

“You did right,” Nadja confirmed. “I will cast a ritual to detect magic on this crown. If it is cursed, I will send it to the Mages’ College in Winterhold to have it destroyed. If not…well, we could have it on display in the castle.” 

Marinette sighed in relief, glad that her efforts weren’t in vain. 

“But, because we have no proof that Madam Rossi was after this crown, we ought not accuse her of anything. The Thalmor are sensitive about these things and could use any false allegation against us.” Nadja placed the crown on an enchanting table, a black stone table inscribed with the magic of the gods, and boasting the skull of a troll. “Either way, I’m glad she didn’t take it. This is Skyrim’s history.” 

Marinette was treated for her wounds, and then set to the baths to clean up. A servant brought a dinner for her while she bathed, and Marinette wept at the sheer luxury of it all.  

Finally, it was time to rest. She retreated to her room and sat on the bed. The old potato sack had been tossed on the bed, a few coins sprawled on the comforter. Marinette brought over a metal lockbox and put the coins and gems inside of it. Then she took the earrings to the wash basin and cleaned them up. 

For however many centuries they had been left in the tomb, they were still pristine. They were a rich cherry red, and sparkled brilliantly in the light. 

She went over to her bureau and put them on in the mirror. Against her white skin, and black hair, they stood out like little rose buds. 

Suddenly, Marinette began to feel very woozy and lightheaded. The earrings seemed to vibrate and grow warm. Tingles ran up her spine, before she blacked out. 

She was in a black landscape, with only a faint fog rising over the ground. There were no features, no exits, nothing. 

“Is this a dream?” She wondered aloud. 

“Are you the lady I felt in the tomb?” A very sweet voice spoke to her. 

Marinette looked around, but saw nothing at first. “Uh, yes? In Potema’s tomb?” 

“It was very brave of you to go in there. It’s an evil place.” 

“Because…she was a necromancer?” 

“Yes!” A small glowing dot appeared. Pink, and floating closer until it was just within her reach. 

“You’re…” Marinette squinted. “A ladybug?” 

“That is correct. And who are you, to have entered the Wolf Queen’s tomb? A treasure hunter? A mage seeking power?” 

Marinette chuckled humorlessly. “Honestly, I went in there by accident.” 

“By Accident? How does one just stumble into the Tomb of Queen Potema, and not know?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Please tell me. I’ve had no one to talk to for so long.” 

Marinette cupped the little ladybug in her hands, and then sat on the ground, which was not warm or cold, nor soft or hard. It just was. “Well, I’m not from Solitude. I was born and raised in Helgen. My father is the son of High King Torygg…though we didn’t know. When the High King was assassinated, my father was chosen as heir, and we moved to the Blue Palace.” 

“So you are a Princess?”

“Yes, as of two weeks ago.” 

“How very interesting. Please continue!” 

Marinette couldn’t help but smile at the sweet voice. “Yesterday, we found out that my home of Helgen…was destroyed. Swallowed by a dragon.” She swallowed thickly, as the event still caused her grief. 

“Oh my, a dragon? Was it the World-Eater?” 

“I–I don’t know. I don’t think anyone knows. It just happened. I didn’t even know dragons existed anymore!” 

“A prophecy at the beginning of time foretold this event. The dragons were gone when Potema ruled. Perhaps my awakening was not merely coincidence? Please, continue your tale.” 

Marinette had to remember where she left off, then continued, “I was grieving in the temple, with my family, and got overwhelmed. I went to take a break, and found the tomb…and then got locked in. So, I had to go through it. It was scary and difficult, so I figured…I deserved these earrings I found at the end. Are you angry?” 

“I am not angry. I sensed goodness in you, so I allowed you into the tomb.” 

“So…you were the reason the bars slid open at the beginning!” 

“I am!”

“Forgive me, I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and you are?” 

The ladybug flew up and did a little spin of sparkles. “Nice to meet you, Marinette! I have to apologize, as I don’t remember my real name. Most of me has been destroyed or withered away over time. My last soulmate called me Tikki.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tikki. What do you mean you were destroyed?”

“The memories are fuzzy from that time, but a very long time ago, I convinced my brothers and sisters to help me create a place for life to begin. Many sacrificed their power and very beings to do so. As punishment, I was torn to pieces and my heart was ripped out. What remained of me, the Psijic Monks tied to this Miraculous. I have only been able to witness the passage of time through the eyes of my soulmates. Tell me, how long has Potema been dead?” 

Marinette blinked at the absolute tidal wave of information that crashed into her. “P-Potema? I don’t…I’m not sure. I’m not solid on Skyrim lore, I’m sorry.” 

“That’s alright. What about Hortator Indoril Nerevar of House Redoran?”

“I…have no idea. I’ve never heard that name…” 

“It seems much time has passed since then. It is alright.” 

“You keep saying the word ‘soulmates’...” Marinette asked carefully. 

“Yes. The one that wears my miraculous, my earrings, is tethered to my soul until death.” 

“You don’t mean me, do you?” 

Tikki laughed. “Of course! You’re wearing my earrings now, aren’t you?” 

That lightheaded feeling started to overtake Marinette again. “Oh gods…oh…T-Tikki, was Potema’s crown magical?” 

“No, I don’t believe so. It may have had an enchantment on it, as most armor did, but nothing significant.” 

Marinette felt sick. She was so certain that the crown was cursed, just like Hiccup’s, and was so careful not to put it on. Then, she had to go and put on the real cursed item. “Ugh! I’m so stupid!” 

“Why would you say such a thing?” 

“My friend was just telling me this very thing! He went into a Nordic burial mound and put in a cursed crown that he can’t take off!” 

“Someone else has a Miraculous?” 

“He didn’t call it that. He just said it was cursed.” 

“What did it look like?” 

“Uh…well, it was more of a circlet. It kind of looked like Potema’s. Made of gold, but had a black gem instead of blue.” 

“Ah, that sounds like the Miraculous of the Dragon. Your friend is very lucky to have his soul bound to a wise and powerful deity.” 

Marinette blinked, hard. “I’m sorry, did you say god? The dragon god? Does that mean—are you a god?!” 

“I was. The god of creation, they called me. But much of my power is gone, and I was never part of the nine divines.”

“Eight,” Marinette corrected. 

“Eight?” 

“Sorry, you’re right. There’s nine Divines. The Thalmor are trying to erase Talos and really hammering in the phrase ‘Eight divines’. Saying there’s nine can get you jailed…or worse.” 

“Talos? Oh! Tiber Septim. You know, Potema was his great great granddaughter. I was rendered before he ascended, so I never met him.” 

“We’re getting off track. So, you’re a god, and I…what? Am I connected to you for life?” 

“That is correct, Marinette.” 

“What does this mean, exactly? Do I have some grand destiny or something?” 

“Not particularly. I always want my soulmates to do good in the world, since they can draw from my power.” 

“And what’s your power?” 

“I can do many things. Most have used me to bolster their own power. What would you like to be in life?” 

“Well…before I became a Princess, I wanted to be a tailor.” 

“A humble request. I can make you the greatest tailor that ever lived! My magic will be woven into your textiles. Everything you make will bestow wearers with health, luck, strength…whatever you can think of!” 

“While that sounds really wonderful…I’d like to be a regular tailor. Just a normal girl with a normal life.” 

“Are you sure? Many have killed for these earrings.” 

“And that’s what I’m afraid of! I’m only 13, I can’t fight off people that try to take these earrings from me! If anyone finds out I have them…” Marinette immediately thought of Lila Rossi, who no doubt was looking for them. 

“You’re only a babe…” Tikki spoke with such sorrow and tenderness. 

“What am I going to do?”

“The time for having a normal life ended two weeks ago, when you became a Princess. Now comes the time to decide. Will you use my gifts? Or will you ignore me?” 

“I don’t want to ignore you, Tikki. I could certainly use your wisdom…I would really like to talk to my friend about this. If what you say is true and he does have a connection to the Dragon, we are in the same boat.” 

“You should know, this friend of yours…what is his name?”

“Hiccup.”

“This friend, Hiccup, if he is truly the soulmate to the Dragon god, he is likely also Dragonborn. The Dragonborn of Prophecy, if the dragon that ate your town is the one I expect it is.” 

“What’s a Dragonborn?”

Tikki was silent for a moment, presumably in shock. “My, it has been a long time. The Dragonborn is born with the ability to shout like a dragon.”

“Shout? Like…send someone flying across the room with just his voice?”

“Yes, that’s one of them.” 

Marinette considered that with dread in her soul. Drago Bludvist was the one that knew how to kill people with his voice. The evil draugr in the armor knew how to do it too. For Hiccup to know how as well? It felt wrong. 

“What is wrong?” Tikki asked. 

“My grandfather, the High King, who I never actually met, was killed by a man who knew how to shout. Drago Bludvist, the Jarl of Windhelm. I don’t…” She sighed. “I don’t want Hiccup to be like him.” 

“It is rather confusing. Any man can learn how to shout, but only the Dragonborn can master their language. This Drago Bludvist may just be a pretender.” 

“That doesn’t make him any less dangerous though…” 

“Of course not. If this man killed your grandfather for being the High King, he will likely come for his successor.” 

“My father…” Marinette breathed. 

“The fight between two dragons is often called a debate, since they are fighting with their voices. If this ‘Drago’ man intends to fight using shouts, the best person to face him is the Dragonborn. If you fear for your father’s safety, you should seek out Hiccup and confirm this with him.” 

“But then what will I do? Hiccup isn’t that much older than me, and he’s no warrior. Surely he can’t face Drago alone!” 

“And he will not. While you do not have the gift of the Thu’um, you have something no one else has.” 

Marinette frowned. Her kin of elves were said to be hardy to the cold and sensitive to the arcane. Hardly special from other elves and men. “I don’t think so?”

“You have me. Anyone with the right proclivities can learn the basics of magic, but I will help you master it in a way no one has since Potema. You will need it, if the Prophecy has come true. I will need some time to observe the world to see if this is truly the case.” 

Marinette wanted to protest, wanted to refuse this life. She didn’t want this fate, to have the safety of the country, of the world even, on her shoulders. 

But there was no denying she longed for her family’s safety, for things to return to how they once were. Perhaps stepping up today would lead to a peaceful tomorrow. 

“Okay, Tikki. You’re right. I love my papa, and if standing up against Drago means protecting him, then I’ll do it.” 

“I’m happy to hear that, Marinette. And as a gift, I will bestow upon you the knowledge of fire. Use it wisely, and I will show you the next spell.” 

–

Marinette jolted awake, her head throbbing. Whether it was from her weirdly realistic dream, or her throw across the room yesterday, she didn’t know.

Or perhaps it was because she slept on the floor. 

She pulled her sore body up and proceeded to get dressed for the day. As she brushed her hair in the mirror, she noticed the ruby earrings in her ears still. Slightly unnerved, she attempted to take them off.

They wouldn’t move. She could move them within her ear, and she could even take the backs off, but when she went to pull them out, it was like they were stuck to the lobe. 

“Unbelievable.” She shook her head. 

So it wasn’t a dream. Tikki, whatever she was, was real and possessed her earrings. And if that was true, then what Tikki said about fire…

The very thought warmed her from the inside. Marinette knew how to cast a small fire spell. She couldn’t explain how or even teach it to someone else, but she felt the truth inside of her. 

She went to the balcony and opened the door. A dead plant stood on the balcony, and had been there since she moved in. She hadn’t had the time or energy to do anything about it. But now, it seemed like a perfectly good target. 

She raised her fist, and let instinct take over. Immediately, her hand was coated in flames! It didn’t hurt, but it did cause her to shriek in surprise. She threw the fireball at the plant, igniting it. Her fist only held a whiff of steam after. 

Then she was back in her room, searching out a quill and parchment. She had to write Hiccup immediately!

Chapter Text

Hiccup and Stoick didn’t return right to Whiterun. Instead, they detoured to Helgen…or what remained of Helgen. 

They could see it as they crested the mountain pass. A giant crater that sundered the earth. Some bits of stone walls and farm land were the only indication that there had been a town there at all. 

The very sight filled Hiccup with dread. 

As they drew closer, Imperial Soldiers and Whiterun Guards alike were blocking the road. 

“Hail and well met, My Lord,” a guard called. “We can’t guarantee your safety here. The dragon seems to have disappeared for now, but the ground around the hole keeps collapsing.” 

“Thank you, soldier. Are the guards that witnessed the event nearby?”

“No, My Lord. The Captain has given them leave for two weeks. It seems the event was quite horrific. There was one other witness though. Name’s Ingrad Sorenson. He’s over there.” 

Both looked to the field where the guard was pointing. A lone farmer tended his crops, like it was any other day.

“Though, if you plan on talking to him, I’m not sure how much information he’ll give you. He’s been rather quiet.” 

“Thank you, as you were.” 

Hiccup followed his father as he left the cart to go question the man. He glanced around, only seeing the vast crop fields, a tent, a fire pit, and a cow. 

“Hail! A word Mr. Sorenson?” Stoick called out to the farmer. 

He didn’t respond. 

“Must be hard of hearing,” Stoick said, good-naturedly. 

When they were much closer, he tried again. “How are the crops, man?” 

“They grow,” the farmer responded, his voice heavy with sorrow. “This ground has life. As long as it does, I too, will live.” 

Stoick stopped his approach, only a few feet away, giving the man his space. “This is your field, then?” 

“Yes. But I tend the Sanderson’s and the Alderson’s as well. Can’t let their hard work be in vain. They live on in their cabbage and pumpkins.” 

Hiccup shared a worried look with his father. 

“The cow? That’s Hjogar’s. He was so proud of her. Best milking cow in Helgen, he said. Even in his old age, he still wouldn’t sell her to anyone. Even though he could barely milk her…” At that, he started sobbing, and dropped his rake. 

Stoick approached carefully, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Ingrad? Do you know who I am?” 

“I don’t know anyone anymore. Everyone I know and love—“ he sniffled. “The Forsworn were spotted taking crops from the western fields. I told them—my family, my wife, my sons, that it was dangerous for them to help me with the farming. I begged them to stay in Helgen, where it was safe…” at that, he dissolved into more sobbing. Horrible, gut-wrenching sobs. 

“What did it look like?” Hiccup asked. 

“Hiccup—“ Stoick chastised. 

“White,” said Ingrad. “A white demon! It’s head—it was all teeth! Horrible long teeth, twice the size of a man! And it’s eyes! Blood red—no pupil, like it was blinded by its hunger for blood! It was so long, so thin, like it hadn’t eaten in centuries! A long tail…I’ll never get that sound out of my head! When it dove back in, the tail cracked like a whip! It was so loud, it sounded like thunder!” He trembled. “It happened so fast. The ground rumbled, and then it emerged, eating half of the town in one bite. It roared…I bet they heard it in Riften. It made my eyes bleed! The sound itself made everyone stand still and scream! Then it came back down…and I was alone.” 

“The Bannered Mare has a few rooms available. Come with us to Whiterun. We’ll get you set up for a few weeks, and help you start a new life.” 

Ingrad shook his head. “I can’t leave. They need me.” 

“Who?” 

Ingrad gestured to the crops. “They’re my family now. My wife and son planted them. They tended, weeded, and watered them. No, I’m staying until harvest. And then, if Sovngarde doesn’t claim me, I might come to Whiterun.” 

Hiccup had a horrible feeling that he’d never see this man in Whiterun. 

“Are you sure? It’s not safe out here in that tent. What about bears? Or saber cats?” 

“I have a sword, and I know how to use it.” 

Stoick looked like he wanted to argue, but ultimately sighed and became resigned. “Alright. Far be it from me to try to change the mind of a stubborn Nord. But, you must promise me something, Ingrad.” 

“Yes?” 

“You see any inclination of that Dragon again, you send word to the Jarl of Whiterun. Fair?” 

The man shut his eyes tight, but nodded in the end. “Yes, fair.” 

“Good. We’ll leave you to do your gardening. I’m hoping for a bountiful harvest.” He patted his son on the back. “Come along, Hiccup.” 

Hiccup hurried after his father as he made purposeful strides to the main road. He stopped a guard. “You keep an eye on that farmer. Make sure he doesn’t off himself.” 

“Sir!” 

As they returned to the cart, Hiccup asked, “aren’t we going to get a closer look?” 

“Not today. We’ll have to come back later, when the ground has settled.” 

Hiccup wanted to protest, but opted not to. Hopefully the information from the farmer would be enough for Toothless. If not, he’d sneak back at a later date. 

They rode back to Whiterun, the guards announcing their arrival once they were at the gates. 

Inside, all manner of townsfolk crowded around them, seeking answers and demanding justice. 

“What are we going to do if the dragon comes for us?” 

“Is anyone going to hunt down the beast?” 

“Has the Ancient Nord prophecy come true?” 

“Is this the work of Drago?” 

“Are we next?” 

“ Enough! ” Stoick bellowed to the crowd. “I know you’re afraid. Who wouldn’t be? But at this time, I do not have the answers you seek. Panicking will serve no purpose. We’re Nords! Hardy folk that fear no beast, and that includes dragons!” 

Some of the crowd took to Stoick’s words quickly, and became encouraged. Others were a bit more rational. 

“I will send word to the other Jarls and to the academics at the College of Winterhold. I will not sit idle. We will find out why this dragon has returned, and what it means. For now, it is wise to lend a hand to your fellow man. If any survivors of Helgen arrive here, give them food and lodging. And if anyone learns of anything, please come see me at Dragonsreach.” He nodded and pressed through the crowd toward his keep. 

Jarl Stoick’s word was final, but many people lingered, nervous and uncertain. 

Hiccup saw this plainly. His destiny was already in motion. These people, friends and family, were being affected. Now, not in the distant future, now . Forever, until the dragon was slain, they’d be afraid for their lives. 

But a dragon the size of Dragonsreach wasn’t going to fall with a well placed fus ro da. He’d have to develop a plan. 

He needed a nap. Mostly to consult with Toothless, but also because traveling was exhausting. 

“Welcome back, Lad!” Gobber greeted heartily. 

“Hi Gobber.” 

“Enjoy your vacation?” 

“As much as one can enjoy four days of bumpy cart travel.” 

“Did you meet the High King? What’s he like?” 

“Oh, we had dinner with him. He seems nice. He laughed at a dirty joke I made, so I guess the power hasn’t gone to his head yet. His wife seems sweet as well. I spent a lot of time with his daughter, Marinette.” 

“Daughter eh? Is she cute?” 

“She’s too young for me. Poor kid was so overwhelmed. And then Helgen…” he shook his head. “She needed a friend, so I was there for her. She’s actually quite smart for her age. A good asset for a Princess.” 

“Oh right, if she’s not like Adrianne, forget it.”

“You should say that a little louder, Gobber. I don’t think the whole town heard you.” 

“Aw lad, don’t be ashamed of having a crush on an older woman!” 

“I’m not ashamed. Everyone has a crush on Adrianne…including her husband. You know, Ulfberth War-Bear? The huge Nord that carries a warhammer on his back?” 

Gobber laughed. “Oh, he’s just a big teddy-bear. He won’t make fun of you.” 

“I’m not worried about him making fun of me! I’m worried about him ripping out my spine and using it as a toothpick.” 

Gobber just kept on laughing. “That’s why it’s so nice to keep you around, lad. You’re always good for a laugh.” 

“Look Gobber, I see what you’re doing, and I appreciate it, but I don’t need a cheer up. I need to focus on what happened to Helgen.” 

Gobber became much more solemn at that. “Hiccup, there’s not much you can do for Helgen, you know? That dragon will do what it does.” He chuckled, “actually, if ever there was a time for a Dragonborn to return, this would be it. Let him handle it!” 

I’m trying to! Hiccup internally screamed. 

As he and his father returned to Dragonsreach, the Steward, Spitelout, hurried to greet them. “My Lord, I’m so happy you’ve returned—“ 

“Yes, I’ve heard all about Helgen, and I’m eager to hear if Gothi has any information.” 

“She’s been hard at work, of course. But there’s a visitor—“ 

“Excellent. Where from? The college?” 

“A visitor for the Young Master,” he looked at Hiccup.

Hiccup blinked in surprise. “Who? Me?” 

“A visitor for Hiccup?” Stoick asked, bewildered. 

“Yes. He came a few days ago, not long after you left for Solitude. He said he had to talk to, ‘the small freckled boy with the crown.’ I told him you were gone and would be gone for a while, and he said he would just wait.” 

“Did you have any guards attempt to escort him to the Bannered Mare to wait there?” Stoick probed.

“Yes! They tried to persuade him to leave and come back later, but he declined. When they attempted to physically remove him, they couldn’t lift him. Apparently, he’s a lot heavier than he looks.” 

“Well, if he’s that insistent, we’ll give him an audience. And then he’d better go. I have more important things to worry about. Where is he?” 

“He’s in the War Room, looking at the map, last I saw.” 

Stoick patted Hiccup again, steering him towards the stairs. “Come on, son.” 

Gobber, who had followed Hiccup into Dragonsreach, also silently followed, curious. 

A staircase leading to the upper floor of the Grand Hall was behind the Jarl’s throne. Up here, a door to the royal family’s quarters was accessed, as well as the door to the Great Porch. 

This room had large bookshelves that held the keep’s library, as well as a large oak table for studying. A large map of Skyrim was spread across the surface, and a figure stood, studying it. 

“The Jarl Stoick, and his Son Hiccup,” Spitelout introduced. 

The man, shorter than most, turned to greet them. His skin was a muted, pale blue, with golden tattoos on his cheeks. He wore a nearly full set of armor made out of a brass material, which was only missing the helmet. It was intricately articulated and had expertly measured rivets across the breast plate. Over the armor, he wore a white and red robe. 

Hiccup was used to beards being braided, as most Nords tended to do so, but this man’s beard was made up of very small braids, capped with gold. One slightly thicker and much longer braid hung from his chin. 

The man had a wide, smug smile full of perfectly square teeth, and eyes that were so narrow they were almost closed as he smiled. 

“Dwarven armor,” Gobber commented, impressed. “And in mint condition too. You don’t find ‘em so nice these days.” 

After a few seconds of awkward eye contact, Hiccup blurted, “uh, hello?” 

“I must thank you for your hospitality, Jarl Stoick.” The man returned. 

It seemed that Stoick wasn’t in the mood for diplomacy, and instead asked, “who are you, and what business do you have with my son?” 

The man just continued to smile, like this whole interaction highly amused him. “I have come to discuss the crown he wears. It is a creation of my people.” 

Understanding dawned on Hiccup. After all, Toothless had told him this would happen. He would get visited by one of the Psijic monks. That had to be who this man was. He just hoped he wouldn’t reveal the truth to his father. Stoick would not take being lied to well. Perhaps Hiccup could just play dumb? 

“Your people? Who are your people? Surely you aren’t trying to convince me that you’re a Dunmer.” 

“Say…” Gobber spoke up, his eyes wide with delight. “You’re a Dwarf!” 

Stoick gave him an incredulous look. “A dwarf? Are you daft?! The dwarves have been extinct for thousands of years.” 

“Almost extinct,” the mysterious man chuckled. “All but a handful.” 

Stoick and Spitelout stared in shock and awe. 

Hiccup just nodded in interest, but it was quickly becoming difficult to surprise him anymore. 

When it looked like mostly everyone was star-struck, the man continued. “In the First Era, my colleagues and I decided to study the arcane in a sequestered area. The other Dwemer weren’t particularly religious or fond of the gods, you see.” 

“What does this have to do with my son’s crown?” Stoick asked, impatient.

The dwarf only laughed. “Oh good, you’ve moved past the revelation of my existence. Well—“ 

“I haven’t!” Gobber protested. “What happened to the other dwarves? Please, this mystery has been eating me alive my whole life! There’s not a man or mer on Tamriel that hasn’t been dying to know! You’ve got to tell!” 

The dwarf merely shrugged. “I have no idea. We keep an eye on the world from where we are, but the deep underground cities of the Dwemer were out of sight from us. By the time we realized they had disappeared, a hundred years had passed.” 

“So…you didn’t really get along with your family, did you?” Hiccup asked, mostly as a joke. 

Stoick gave him a tiny thump on the head. 

“Yes, we’ve all been curious about the Dwarves. But please, tell us about this cursed crown!” 

The dwarf grinned and looked at Hiccup, seemingly staring into his very soul. “What is a curse to some, is a blessing to others. The crown sleeps, but can be awakened.” 

“Can you remove it?” 

“Not without killing the boy, no.” 

Stoick frowned. “I heard that the Dwarves were sadistic, what with what they did to the Snow Elves, but to curse an item and not have a way to remove it?” 

The dwarf didn’t seem bothered by Stoick’s jab, and just tilted his head ever so slightly. “We prefer the term ‘enchanted’ over ‘cursed’.” 

Stoick scoffed. 

“What has your interaction with the crown been so far, Young Master?” 

“It um…it won’t come off.” 

“That would seem like a curse, of course. But there is much more to it, if we may speak alone?” 

Stoick’s nostrils flared. “You must be out of your mind if you think I’ll leave you alone with my son after what you’ve done!” 

“Dad dad dad,” Hiccup grabbed his arm. “It’s cool. He came all this way to talk to me about this. If I’m going to be stuck with it the rest of my life, I should know all I can about it.” 

Stoick hated that Hiccup had such a good point. “Fine. Use my office. But the guards will be outside, and if there’s any trouble—“ 

“There won’t be, your lordship,” the dwarf assured with a smile. “The Young Master is destined for greatness. I wouldn’t dream of ruining that.” 

Stoick could only look in confusion as Hiccup led the dwarf to the private quarters and to Stoick’s office. 

“I’m sorry about that. He’s…pretty protective of me.” 

“We could all be so lucky. My father disappeared some 2000 years ago!” He laughed. “I am Master Wang Fu.” 

“Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, son of Jarl Stoick of Whiterun. But Hiccup is fine.” 

“You know, you’re not an easy man to find.” 

Hiccup winced as he took a seat in a chair in front of his father’s desk. “I’m not usually this mobile. I’m sorry.” 

Master Fu continued to study the room, perusing the shelves and occasionally picking up an item like an ornamental dagger or book. “When we sensed the awakening of the Miraculous, we scried on your location and saw you were in a burial mound. I figured by the time I made it to Skyrim, you’d be home. When I crossed over from Cyrodiil, I located you here in Whiterun. But by the time I actually got here, you were in Morthal!” 

“Yeah…how-how familiar are you with current events?” 

“If you are asking if I heard about the High King, I did. We have ways of listening in on the events happening in the material world. But that, of course, is not why I’m here.” 

“The crown?” 

“I assume you actually are aware of its true nature?” 

“I named him Toothless. I didn’t mean to! He told me to name him and I just commented that he didn’t have any teeth, and he took it literally and wouldn’t let me change it!” He slapped his hand to his forehead, knocking the crown. “I can’t get over it. Akatosh! The dragon god! I named him Toothless!” 

Master Fu just started laughing, a genuine belly laugh. “I came to judge what kind of character you were, but I think I have a good idea now. The dragon god is very kind, loving, and protective of mankind. He is mighty and fiersome, but the name you have chosen for him is quite fitting, I think.”

Hiccup shook his head and slouched in his seat. “And here, I was concerned about one day inheriting my father’s throne. But now…” 

“I assume you are Dragonborn, as well?” 

“I have shouted already, so I guess so.” 

“It is as the prophecy said then.” 

“Wait,” Hiccup shot forward. “Prophecy? There’s a prophecy now?! Since when?! Toothless never mentioned a prophecy!” 

Master Fu laughed again. “Since the time of Tiber Septim. After our people disappeared. It goes as such: 

‘When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world,

When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped,

When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles,

When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls,

When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding,

The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.’” 

Hiccup frowned. “I don’t get it.” 

Master Fu gave an admonishing look. “Not a student of history?” 

Hiccup groaned. “There’s a lot to it.” 

“Then I suggest you review your books. Each line equates with a significant historical catastrophe. Though, I will save you time and say that they all happened in the Third Era. All but the last line.” 

“Something about a Snow Tower?” 

“‘When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding, The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.’” 

“The Snow Tower…The Snow Tower…oh gods. It’s not talking about the Throat of the World, is it?” Hiccup gestured towards the Eastern window, where the very mountain he was talking about could be seen.

Master Fu nodded. 

“But they put a king on the throne! Surely it can’t be…” 

“Yes, they elected a new High King. But Skyrim is still divided and on the brink of a civil war. Do you see it now, Dragonborn?” 

Hiccup slouched in his chair, dread coiling in his stomach. “What’s The World-Eater? What does that represent?” 

“That question is more well suited for your soulmate,” Master Fu smiled. 

“Why me? Why am I this Dragonborn person?” 

“I believe the Greybeards may have an answer for that.” 

Hiccup groaned and rested his head in his hands. 

“What is the matter?” 

“You’re not answering my questions! I finally have someone that knows stuff and you won’t explain anything!” 

“My apologies. I will answer your next question honestly.” 

“How do I kill the dragon that attacked Helgen?” 

“I don’t have the slightest clue.” 

Hiccup threw his hands up in frustration.

“I said I would be honest. I didn’t say it would be helpful.” 

Angry and frustrated, Hiccup just snapped. “Look, why did you come here? Just to ‘see what kind of person I am’? What is a Psijic Monk anyway? Toothless said you were some sort of guardian or something.” 

“Correct on all accounts,” Master Fu grinned. “I am here to judge your character.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, if you created a powerful artifact, wouldn’t you want to know how it was being used?” 

Hiccup considered all the swords and knives he had made while working for Gobber. How many were used for defense? And how many fell into the wrong hands?

“I guess that makes sense. So…your people made these?” 

“As I told your father earlier, my colleagues and I broke away from the other Dwemer to work in seclusion. Whereas our kin were interested in science and tonal energies, we were interested in the arcane and the gods. Everyone wanted the ability to soul trap a god, for the sheer power that those soul gems would contain. Our attempts to do so resulted in the Miraculous. Not a full soul trap, but some would argue this was a better outcome.” 

“That’s pretty…horrific, honestly.” 

“I know. And we’d soon learn that the Miraculous themselves cared little about what our intentions were, and disappeared on their own. We have no control over them, but we can tell when someone has activated one. We’ve taken to reaching out to the new wielder, just to see what they are like.” 

“So you're not really a guardian at all, huh?” 

Master Fu laughed, though it lacked mirth. “No, I suppose not. Though that was the intention. Now we just observe how they affect the world.” 

“…and step in when needed, right?” 

Master Fu shook his head. “We have taken an oath not to interfere with the events that unfold.” 

Hiccup frowned. “Why not?” 

“Fear, mostly. We stay on our island to stay removed from consequences. Every action that you take has consequences. Even talking to you about all of this is a risk. But we have elected to let actions play out as they do. Besides, is it fair if we can escape before our consequences catch up to us?” 

“I guess that’s fair. How many Miraculous are there, anyway?” 

“24 in total.” 

“I thought for sure you were going to say 8, one for each of the Divines, minus Talos.” 

“One for each of the Divines, yes, and one for each of the 15 Daedric princes.” 

“…even the really bad ones?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“For instance, Mehrunes Dagon, the prince of Destruction, Disaster, and Violent Upheaval. Someone can connect to that power?” 

“Ah, the Black Cat. A misunderstood deity. Most would agree, he is evil. But like a forest fire purging the rotting undergrowth, sometimes destruction is necessary.” 

“Yeah, sure, but wasn’t he the one that opened all the hell-mouths during the Oblivion Crisis and tried to take over the world?”

“I said ‘sometimes’.” 

“Okay fine, but what about Molag Bal? The Corruptor? The Rapist? He’s responsible for only grief in this world, like vampires and other undead.” 

“They all have a Miraculous, Hiccup. While a connection between souls can give a mortal power, it also weakens the deity. There is balance.” 

Hiccup took out his little notebook that he often carried with him, and began to take down notes from this conversation. “Every Miraculous has a creature associated with it? I had never heard of Mehrunes Dagon referred to as a cat. I thought he was a four armed red devil.” 

“The Ancient Nords, those that taught us about the gods in the first place, assigned a creature to each one. The names differ between cultures. Toothless, for example, is the Dragon, named by the Nords. The Imperials call him Akatosh while the Elves call him Auri-El. While the names change depending on who you are talking to, we found it easier to stick with their Ancient Nord name.” 

Hiccup wrote down the Eight Divines, as he knew them well. “Oh, 8 Divines, plus 15 Daedric Princes, that only makes 23 Miraculous, right?”

“There is one more. The dead god, the creator, has a Miraculous. She is the Ladybug.”

“Dead god? I didn’t know there was such a thing. But if she’s dead…doesn’t that make her Miraculous not work?”

Master Fu grinned. “That is a good line of thinking, Dragonborn. However, since we tied her to a Miraculous, that is the only thing that has kept her from disappearing. Although, it is not any less powerful.” 

“Good to know…” Hiccup noted this down as well. “Do you know how many Miraculous are active right now?”

“Besides yours, there are two.” 

Hiccup looked surprised. “Really? Wait, I bet Drago has one!” 

“No. The Jarl of Windhelm does not possess a Miraculous.” 

Hiccup frowned. “Well, then who?” 

“The Ladybug activated while I was waiting for you. I have yet to meet the wielder.” 

“Oh wow, busy week for you, huh?”

Master Fu chuckled. “It’s an exciting time. But we knew it would be when the Prophecy came true.” 

“Does the Ladybug grant any special abilities? Toothless–Ah, Akatosh, has been giving me training in my Thu’um.” 

“The Ladybug grants great magical proficiency. You have seen that most wizards are unable to cast spells without a staff or other spell focus.” 

“I hadn’t really thought about it, but sure.” 

“The earrings substitute as this focus, and allow for very potent spellcasting. Have you heard of Potema?” 

Hiccup shivered, “Yeah, she’s a legend. The Queen of Solitude that won a war with an army of undead.” 

“She was The Ladybug’s last wielder.” 

Hiccup sat stunned, not sure how to respond to that. “Oh.” 

“I have high hopes for this new wielder, though. A young lady, you may run into her in the future.” 

“What’s her name?”

“As I said, I haven’t met her yet.” 

“Oh right,” he cringed. “You said there was another one active?” 

Master Fu looked much more grave at that. “Yes, The Butterfly.” 

“I don’t recognize it, so I’m assuming it’s a Daedric Prince?” He winced. 

“That is correct. The Butterfly is also known as Molag Bal, the one of the princes you were concerned with earlier.” 

Hiccup swore and rested his head in his hands. “And the wielder?”

“An Altmer woman. Wholly unpleasant. She didn’t give me her name. Though, she has been wearing it for a few decades. Who knows what she’s up to.” 

Hiccup noted down that he needed to read up more on Molag Bal, and be prepared for what could come of that. 

But first, the white dragon from Helgen. 

“Do you have any more questions for me? I expect that once I depart from here, we will never meet again.” 

“No, don’t say that! I can’t think of them right now, but I know I will as soon as you leave!” 

“Fear not, Dragonborn. There is little information that I have that Aka–Toothless and the Graybeards do not also have. It is better that way. Giving you the history of the world in one day, you’re likely to forget most of it.” 

“Which is why I started taking notes,” he raised his notebook. 

“And you should continue to do so.” Master Fu gave him a proud smile, and rested a hand on his shoulder. “While I can not tell you what to do, I know what I would do if I were in your shoes.” 

“Please, any guidance…” 

“Go consult the Graybeards. They will train you with the Thu’um. Once you begin to establish yourself as Dragonborn, the Blades are likely to find you. They have experience with killing dragons.” 

“Blades? Who are they?”

Master Fu sighed. “This disappoints me, but doesn’t surprise me. The Blades used to be the special guard to the Emperor. Since their downfall, those that survive have been waiting to aid the Last Dragonborn in the fight against the World-Eater. They consider this to be their final duty.” 

“What happened to them?”

“In short, the Aldmeri Dominion, the Thalmor. Any book on the Great War will tell you the story.” 

“Okay, go to The Graybeards and learn more Shouts, then keep an eye out for the Blades. Anything else?” He wrote down a plan of attack. 

“I will let the Ladybug Miraculous wielder know to look for you. You should ally yourself with any wielder you can find, as they are stronger together.” 

“I’m not befriending the Molag Bal wielder,” Hiccup said adamantly. 

“Nor would I think she would receive you.” 

“Well…thank you, for all of this. I’m sorry I was short with you earlier. I just…”

“You are scared.” 

Hiccup hung his head, as he didn’t want to admit it. It was not like a proud Nord to be afraid of destiny. But it was hard not to fear what he had been told.  

“You can be afraid, but don’t let your fear stop you from action. You will receive more guidance on your journey. You are not alone.” He tapped the gem on the front of the crown. “You will never be alone.” 

Hiccup took solace in that, at least. While Toothless wasn’t on this plane of existence, he was still with him. 

“Now, as pleasant as this has been, I must go and meet with the new wielder.”

“Right…I’ll show you out…” 

Hiccup and Master Fu returned to the upper landing where Stoick, Spitelout, and Gobber were still standing. 

“Gentlemen, Your Lordship,” Master Fu nodded to each of the men. 

Stoick rushed to his son. “What happened? Are you okay? Did he use mind magic on you?!”

“What? No, no, dad, I’m fine. I told you it would be fine.” 

Stoick looked ready to protest, but didn’t. 

“Thank you for your hospitality, Jarl Stoick. I will be leaving now. Good luck, Hiccup.” And he headed down the stairs, presumingly to never be seen again. 

“What was it like?” Gobber asked, “talking to an actual Dwemer?” 

“It honestly didn’t feel all that different from talking to most people, actually.” 

“So what did he say? What does the crown do?” Stoick asked. 

What was Hiccup supposed to do? There was absolutely no way Stoick would accept his fate! What could he possibly do?

Perhaps he needed to ease into it. 

Hiccup swallowed. “Do…we have any familial ties to Tiber Septim?”

Gobber laughed. 

Stoick scoffed, “Tiber Septim? No. He was a Nord, but he married a Cyrodilic woman and had an affair with Queen Barenziah. His direct line wasn’t very long, but his brother’s line went on until the end of the Septim Empire. Didn’t you have studies on this?”

“Yes, and it was all very interesting,” Hiccup assured.

“What does that have to do with the crown?” Stoick asked, more insistent. 

Hiccup glanced at everyone in the room. He trusted Gobber and his father with this secret, but not Spitelout and the other two guards.

“Hiccup?”

“I…don’t want everyone to know…” He held his arm. 

Stoick calmed slightly, and tried to understand. “Who can you tell?”

“Can the three of us go on the porch?” He gestured to himself, Gobber, and Stoick. 

“Of course, Lad!” Gobber wrapped an arm around him and corralled him out onto the Great Porch. 

As the name suggests, the Great Porch was a large room, about the same width and height as the Great Hall, that had a large balcony that overlooked the vast fields and the Throat of the World in the distance. The three walked to the edge and sat at the table and chairs placed there. 

“Alright son, you have us alone. Now, tell us about the crown.” 

“I’m getting there,” Hiccup breathed, nervously rubbing his hands on his thighs. “You remember how this started, right?” 

“You went delving in a Nordic Ruin,” Gobber provided. 

Stoick frowned. “You went looking for information about the Dragonborn.” 

Hiccup swallowed. “Well…I wasn’t completely honest with you, then. I…I found the Dragonborn.” 

“What, like the skeleton of the man?” Gobber asked. 

“No…I am the Last Dragonborn.” 

The two men were silent, and then started laughing. 

Hiccup should have expected that.

“Oh lad, not gonna lie, you almost got me there! That was a good one!” Gobber wiped a tear from his eye. 

Hiccup sighed, but ultimately just gave a little smile. “Yeah, can you imagine?”

“Alright, so I suppose your curse could be worse. I got it, son, I’m all calm now. What’s the real curse?” 

They couldn’t believe him. Even if he was honest, they’d never believe him. That was just always how it was. There was no point. 

So he’d continue to lie, and kick himself for it. “It’s nothing. The crown will change its appearance the longer I wear it. And if I have any magic proficiencies, it would enhance them.” 

“Which you don’t,” said Stoick. 

“...right…he mostly just shared the history of his people.”

“Well, you are very lucky, son. Few people have found cursed artifacts and lived long enough to tell about it, let alone have a manual for use!”

“Yeah, pretty nifty…” Hiccup sighed. “Look, it’s been a long day. I’m tired. Can I go have a nap?”

Stoick rubbed his son’s head fondly. “Of course, Son. Get some rest.” 

“Yeah!” Called Gobber as Hiccup rose to his feet. “Get your rest now, because I’m going to work ya to the bone tomorrow!” 

Hiccup just waved him off and retreated to his room.

Chapter Text

Toothless was waiting for him the moment he fell asleep. He sat dutifully nearby, at attention, rather than lazily curled up around the boy. 

“I see you have questions.” 

Hiccup knelt in front of the god, once again brought to that place of reverence. The last few nights in the place, Toothless had been gentle, soothing, and a welcoming presence. They lounged in this empty space and relaxed. Hiccup told Toothless of his life, his studies with Gobber, his friends in Whiterun. And Toothless just laid with him, enjoying his company and their new connection.

But the way Toothless appeared now was different. He held the wisdom of ten thousand years and the authority of a pantheon. 

“I don’t know where to start,” Hiccup said breathlessly. 

“Take your time. Only ask what’s important to you.” 

“But I don’t know what’s important! What if I think it is and it actually has nothing to do with anything?!” 

Toothless leaned forward, his height towering over Hiccup though he sat on his haunches. “I will begin then, and once you collect your thoughts, you can ask your questions.” 

Hiccup sighed. “Great, more story time.” 

Toothless rumbled with a chuckle, before blowing a burst of blue flame up into the void. 

The flame burst into a galaxy of stars, illuminating them both in a blue hue. 

“Whoa…” Hiccup spoke in awe. 

“At the beginning of time, or before time began, this world you live on, the moons Masser and Secunda, the planets and stars…none of it was there. It was only us. The original spirits.” 

The stars shifted and formed loose shapes of dozens of humanoid figures. Some of them glowed with a familiar hue, as their shrine at the temple gave them a color. A large figure stood at the center, a man with a dark blue aura. Hiccup knew this was Toothless. 

“It was Tikki, the goddess of creation that proposed the idea. She wanted to make a world with life. Where things that lived would be mortal.” One of the figures, a woman, grew large and glowed with a red light. 

“Many of us would agree to this idea, but not all. We worked together to create Mundus, the material plane on which you live.”

 Countless spirits, the majority of those present, stepped forward into a circle, raised their hands, and a globe appeared, with four continents on the surface, one of which was Tamriel.

 “But the creation had a terrible price. Many weaker deities were utterly destroyed.” 

A handful of the spirits cried out a soundless scream before disappearing. 

“Some, a little more powerful, sacrificed their godhoods to become mortal, the progenitors of the races of Nirn.” 

About two dozen figures withered away to dots on the surface of the globe. 

“That left nine of us severely weakened, but still gods. Afterwards, there would be many arguments. Some would say that Tikki coerced us, and others that she tricked us.

“We tried her, and found her undeserving of her creation. I carried out the punishment and ripped out her heart.” 

The red spirit cowered in fear as Toothless’ apparition grew monstrous. The stars making up its form shifted and transformed into a dragon. The dragon swiped out its claws and tore the very heart of Tikki out of her and threw it down to the planet. 

It landed on Tamriel, a large, red, angry blister on the surface. From his studies, Hiccup recognized it as the Red Mountain, the giant volcano in Morrowind. 

What was left of Tikki split into two uneven halves and curled up into dull spheres. Those spheres descended onto the planet, but hung in the sky as the moons. 

“Oh…” said Hiccup, struck by the sight. 

“I wanted to destroy the world then. This thing had done so much harm to everyone, I couldn’t bear to see them all suffer. But I decided to wait. I created the World Eater and put her inside Nirn to emerge once my weakened siblings on the surface had died.” 

Hiccup saw the fire ignite in the center of the planet, and a shadow curled up to sleep around it. 

“But my siblings reproduced. They proliferated, and soon the world was abundant with life. The Psijic Monks rose and created the Miraculous, and we were all tethered to men and elves. I saw wonderful things and began to regret my World Eater. But I was too weak to remove it. I gifted the Thu’um to the early Nords as a way to fight it when it emerged.” 

The shadow in the center burst forth, creating a huge hole in the very being of the planet. 

“I did not witness what they did. But I felt it. The World Eater was not destroyed, but temporarily removed. I don’t know where it is.” 

The projection of the planet dissolved back into stars and flitted away to illuminate from the distance.

“Okay,” Hiccup took a deep breath, and exhaled. “The dragon that ate Helgen…that’s the World-Eater then?” 

“Describe it to me once again.” 

“Uh…the farmer said it was white with red eyes. It was really long and thin, and had really big teeth. He said it swallowed the town in two bites.” 

Toothless shook his head. “This is not the World-Eater, but I do not know who this is.” 

“Wait so…this isn’t the end of the world? That dragon isn’t the big bad evil creature?” 

“It very well could be the end if it is not stopped. And if the World Eater returns while this white dragon is about, then you will have two to deal with.” 

“ Awesome! ” Hiccup shouted, frustrated. He flopped onto his back and stared up at the stars. There was so much to do, and so little time to prepare. It was daunting and scary. 

He would probably fail. He couldn’t imagine fighting a dragon like that. It was suicide. 

Toothless rested his head on Hiccup’s stomach and crooned. “I feel your fears, and your doubts. I desperately wish to help you more, but I grow weaker and weaker with time. I am blind, my Hiccup.” 

Hiccup petted his head, feeling the soothing comfort radiate off of him. “I don’t really blame you, Toothless. You couldn’t know the world would turn out for the good. Sounds like an impossible decision.I mean…I’m kinda glad you changed your mind.” 

“I appreciate the reassurance.” 

Hiccup sighed once more and sat up. “I should wake up now. I have stuff to do.” 

“Like what?”

“Pack my bags…and sneak out.”

—

When Hiccup awoke, it was dark out. He had spent more time in the dreamscape with Toothless than he thought. As he rose and peaked out the door into the hall, he could hear his father’s snoring from next door. He had slept through dinner!  

Well, perhaps that was for the best. Sitting through a meal with his father while he had plans in his head never went well. Stoick always had a way to read him, and pry the truth out of him. It made lying to his father difficult. And apparently telling the truth that he isn’t expecting, as well.

The biggest map of Skyrim he knew of was out in the war room. For now, he’d casually sneak down there and make a plan of travel. He had a smaller map he’d mark it against. 

He left his room quietly, careful not to disturb his sleeping father. Then, as he came down the stairs, he ran into a guard.

“You’re awake, Young Master.” 

“Ah yep…I didn’t sleep well on my journey, I guess…” 

“I’m to tell you that there is some food for you in the kitchen, if you are hungry.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks! That’s exactly what I was up to get…so I’ll just…” He scooted around the guard, trying to be nonchalant. 

Now that he thought about it, he really was hungry. So he went and surveyed what dinner had been left for him.

Apple and cabbage soup! Yuck!

But he was hungry, and he had quite the trip ahead of him. After he scooped up some soup and found some bread, he went up to the war room to pour over the map while he ate. 

He could tell the guards were giving him skeptical looks as they passed, but no one said anything. As Hiccup studied the map, he was disappointed to find that High Hrothgar wasn’t actually on it. The Throat of the World was the largest mountain in Skyrim, so which side was it on? 

He decided to make Ivarstead his destination. Surely someone there would know how to get up the mountain. With a route mapped out, he hurried back to his room.

First, he packed his bags. He took a few sets of clothes, and spare boots. Since he didn’t know how long he would be gone, he took his sewing kit as well. What else? His map, his notebook, a hunting knife, a bedroll, and a fur lined jacket for the cold summit of the mountain. Anything else he needed he would either have to buy in Ivarstead or just go without. Thankfully he still had plenty of gold from his last dungeon delve, so he would be okay buying food and a room at the next Inn. 

Next, he had to write a note to his father. Of course Stoick would panic and worry as long as Hiccup was gone, but with a note, Stoick hopefully wouldn’t send the guards all over the hold looking for him. 

Dear Dad, 

I lied to you. I’ve been lying for a while. But when I told the truth, you didn’t believe me. I didn’t have time to try to convince you otherwise. I’m sorry, but I have to leave. My adventuring days aren’t over. They’ve actually just begun. I can’t tell you where I’m going, because I can’t have you try to stop me. I know I have a duty to Whiterun, but I have to answer this new duty, or there won’t be a Whiterun for me to lead. 

Please don’t worry about me, though I know you will. I’m a lot less defenseless than you think. I’ll try to come home and visit, and maybe then I can tell you everything and you’ll understand. Honestly, I don’t think I understand it all anyways, but…the gods chose me for this. Akatosh chose me. 

I promise I’ll make you proud, dad. 

Love, 

Hiccup

Hiccup tried not to get choked up as he signed the note. He was a little more candid than he wanted to be. 

He tacked it right to his bedroom door, so anyone who went to find him in the morning would see it. 

He donned his gear and peered out the door. Being spotted earlier was fine, but the guards tended to be nosey when it came to him and he didn’t need them to ask about his bags.

The guard on duty had just walked into the hall. He would glance back and forth, and then retreat back into the Great Hall. Hiccup then had a few minutes to go down the short stairs and into the servant’s quarters. 

The first room in these new chamber’s belonged to his uncle and steward, Spitelout. But, Spitelout often slept at home, rather than in this room, and so it was empty tonight. Another short staircase led to a series of rooms for servants. At the north end of the hall was the other entrance that led into the kitchen, connected to the Great Hall…and watched by several guards. 

The south end of the hall held the wine cellar, where several shelves of bottles were stored, with seemingly nothing else. 

Hiccup knew better. 

He had grown up in Dragonsreach his whole life. He had run away and hid from lessons, lectures from his father, and beatings from his cousin Snotlout. He knew where all the loose boards were…and what laid behind them. 

Quickly, Hiccup went to the wine cellar, going to that secret panel in the back corner. He had found it as a kid, hiding from Snotlout. Back then, he had rested his weight against the wall, and the wooden board pried loose on the bottom and gave way. It led to a series of corridors connected to the Dungeon. The air was damp, and it smelled like the foulest rot imaginable. 

Hiccup lowered himself in there, and crept along the path. 

He wasn’t the only one who knew this series of passages were here. The guards had an area that they set up to hide from duties, though it looked like they only stayed in one room. Who could blame them? It was pretty gross. 

Hiccup stepped lightly and he maneuvered through the dark stone paths, and eventually he reached the dungeons. 

“Yeah, poor sod started crying, saying his family was eaten while he was doing time here. I told him he deserved it for what he had done.” 

“That’s cold, man. I had a cousin in Helgen.” 

“My condolences. But at least you have the rest of your family.”

The guards were talking, and likely wouldn’t be able to hear the scuffles of his boots on the stone. 

Soon, Hiccup reached a fork in the road. He could either take the ladder to go up into the barracks, or crawl through the grate on the other side into pitch darkness. It seemed counter intuitive, but he chose the darkness. 

He wedged his equipment into the foot-wide holes in the grate, keeping them off the ground, and then wedged his thin, lanky body through the broken rungs. Then he donned everything once again and ventured into the inky blackness, with not a torch or a tallowtip. He felt along with his feet and outstretched hands against the wall. 

When he discovered this path first, his ears still rang with Snotlout’s threats of bodily harm. Back then, he was so small and so scared, that he preferred the mystery of blind tunnel over the certainty of a fist. He had stayed in this tunnel for hours then, nearly a whole day, and only emerged when his hunger got the best of him. Now, all these years later, the tunnel was just an old friend and held no threat.

He found the halfway point, a series of narrow grates that allowed light in from above. Up on the surface, this was where the entrance to Dragonsreach was. And the light came from the braziers that allowed the guard to see. The steps were right ahead, and so Hiccup’s path diverted to the left, and down a decline. 

Enough of a decline that he couldn’t walk it. 

Hiccup swung his pack around so it rested on his front side, before sitting on the stone and scooting down. The gravel acted like ball bearings and he slid down faster than he wanted, slipping down the stone and dropping into the chamber below. 

This was an area he had experienced once, and decided to avoid returning to. It was located next to Jorrvaskr, the home of the Companions, the fighters for hire, and it was directly under Gobber’s forge, and as such, he had once heard a Companion refer to it as the Underforge in hushed tones. Its use was a mystery, and he wondered if Gobber even knew it was there. It was a small cave room, with barely anything in it but a basin full of red liquid. Hiccup hoped it was wine. There was a clear entrance and exit to this chamber, not counting his fall. His route had to have been an accident, as there was no way out through it since it dropped him from the ceiling. The designed way in was a stone wall that was sealed up, though the seam was visible and there was a lever that would open it. 

The other way was a short tunnel that ended in another drop. Hiccup hoped that would be his ticket out of Whiterun, but first, he needed to pilfer from Gobber’s forge.  

He threw the lever on the wall, and the secret stone panel that hid the cave from view slid away, scraping on the rock as it went. Thankfully it wasn’t very loud, or one of the Companions might have come out to investigate. 

He had to be quick. While the Underforge and surrounding area was concealed by a wall, the Skyforge was open air and anyone could see him. He left his gear behind in the Underforge and scrambled up the stairs. Luckily, he knew where the key was to Gobber’s inventory chests, and was able to get into them quickly. 

Who knew what awaited on this journey? What perils would he face? Besides the dragon, of course. Hiccup looked over the equipment, and his gold. Of course he wasn’t going to steal anything. He knew what it was all worth, considering he helped make it. 

Iron was the cheapest, but it wore down quickly and was easy to break. Steel was a little more durable, a little lighter, but more expensive. Then there were Elven and Orcish, which were imported. Elven was the slightly heavier of the two and so cut deeper, but was twice as expensive. The next bracket of expense, increasing by 20 gold was Dwarven, which was either restored or imitated, was heavier than Elven, and had a bigger bite to it and rarely needed repairs, but when it did, the materials were hard to come by. Then there was Nordic, Gobber’s specialty. More expensive, but about the same weight as Dwarven, but 60 gold more than Elven! Ugh, the choices! 

Then he looked at his last two options. Glass weapons, which were beautiful and expensive. He hadn’t mastered the ability to smith these yet, as they were difficult to create. 

Then, the pinnacle of weapons, Ebony. A resilient black metal that was as rare as it was deadly. It was extremely heavy, but razor sharp and rarely needed repairs. And Hiccup knew how to repair them! Deep down in his heart, Hiccup knew he had always wanted to adventure with an Ebony sword. 

The short sword that Gobber had was beautifully balanced, and more than once Hiccup had tested it out before being chastised. Today, it was coming with him. 

Next, he needed a bow. The ancient bow he had found in the tomb had been great, but as Hiccup had shown it to Gobber, the smith had critiqued it. 

Hiccup needed a bow that was durable and easy to handle. As beautiful as the Ebony one was, it was just too heavy. So he went with Gobber’s preference, and took a Nordic bow, and a quiver of steel arrows. 

Now, he needed armor. He knew everything that Gobber made was too large and heavy for him to wear. He didn’t have the bag space for scrap leather to make some later. It was risky, but for now, he’d take an iron helmet and a shield. Ebony shields were of course the best, but the poor boy had a hard enough time lifting one from the smithing table, let alone up the side of a mountain. He opted for a Glass Shield. Given his size, he’d have a lot of coverage behind it, and it weighed less than half of the Ebony. Not nothing, mind you, but less. Plus, it looked cool.

Finally, he felt prepared. He strapped the sword to his waist and placed the bow and quiver on his back, with the shield on top. It was a little awkward, but he’d adjust after he got on his horse. Finally, he put on the helmet, and snuck back into the Underforge. 

All there was left to do was leave the city, and that should be the easy part. He followed the short tunnel on the other side of the cave and dropped down onto the ledge below. From here, he could guess where he was, a crumbled guard tower not too far from the stables. He was on the other side of the wall! 

The night was bright. The moons, Masser and Secunda were nearly full and illuminated the landscape. Behind them, the auroras hung like shimmering curtains, dressing the cosmos in their finest. It seemed like the very stars were preparing for this momentous night. 

Hiccup pondered on it for a moment, recollecting all that Toothless had shown him not too long ago. The moons were the body of the god that created the world. How many other spectacles in the sky were because of the gods? Perhaps in time, Toothless would tell him more. 

Hiccup leapt from his ledge down to the mossy rocks a few feet below. It was a short walk to the stables from here to retrieve Thump. And he certainly wasn’t going to walk all the way to High Hrothgar! 

He arrived at the stables as the guard was turned and walking away from him. Of course, he wouldn’t get in trouble for stealing his own horse, but rather he’d likely be ‘escorted’ back to Dragonsreach if spotted.

“Pst! Pst! Thump! Buddy, wake up!”

The black horse sprawled on the ground, laying in a concerning way, if you didn’t know him better. Hiccup crawled into the stall and petted his horse to wake him up. Within a few moments, Thump was up and sniffing around for food. 

“Want this?” Hiccup held out an apple.

Thump ate it in two bites, almost taking Hiccup’s fingers off. 

“Good boy.” Hiccup pet his neck, and then went and got his saddle. 

The guard was on his way back now, and so Hiccup worked quietly and slowly to avoid being spotted in the shadows. It worked and Thump was ready to ride in a few minutes. 

Hiccup waited until the guard was halfway back to the city gate before urging Thump off into the night. 

It was a strange feeling, feeling the safety and warmth of home disappearing behind him. His home, the place he had known so intrinsically was being left behind, for who knew how long? Days? Months? Maybe he would never return. It wasn’t a thought he wanted to dwell on. 

He followed the road that bordered the river, moving West. He’d follow the main road for a while, at least until morning. Ivarstead was small, and not along the main road, according to the map. He just hoped there’d at least be a sign as he got closer. 

As he left the open plains of Whiterun and traveled through a valley between two mountains, he noticed flickering lights up high. A bridge perhaps? 

When he drew close enough, he discovered that yes, it was a bridge. Two ancient towers flanked the river, and a stone bridge was laid out between them. Torches were lit incrementally, telling him that the bridge was attended. But what settlement was nearby? Surely these weren’t Whiterun guards. 

“Halt!” A woman called as he drew close. “This here’s a toll road, see?” 

“Oh! Uh, I don’t need to cross the bridge. I’m going West.” He pointed to the road still following the river. 

“All this is a toll road. You’re going to have to pay the fine. Say, 200 gold.” 

“200 gold? That’s unjust!” 

“We all gotta eat, kid. Pay with gold,” she unsheathed a dagger, “or with your blood. Your choice.” 

Hiccup turned Thump sideways, to better get a look at this woman. She was filthy, and her armor was misshapen and banged up. 

A bandit. He should have known. 

Glancing up at the bridge, he could scant make out silhouettes, no doubt more bandits with bows. 

“Well? I ain’t gonna wait around all night!” She raised her knife, preparing to attack. 

Hiccup was not ready for a fight. She’d stab him in the leg before he got his sword out. 

So he did the only thing he could do. 

“ FUS RO DA !” 

The woman slammed hard against the side of the tower as his shout echoed over the rocky cliffs. 

“By the gods!” Someone shouted. 

“Dragonborn!” 

Hiccup took advantage of the shock to snap Thump’s reins and get out of range. 

Well, if no one knew the Dragonborn had returned, they would soon find out.