Work Text:
She hadn't even known who (or what) the Dragonborn was a few months ago, and now here she was, proudly standing before a fallen dragon and absorbing the beast's soul. They were passing through Riverwood when the poor thing attacked– and it was a poor thing, really. It didn't stand a chance against the Dragonborn's fire and the entirety of Riverwood's guard.
A few of the guards lingered to gawk at the spectacle. The Dragonborn awkwardly smiled, waved, and scurried her way over to Lydia.
“You've got some fans,” Lydia said, gesturing to the few guards who remained huddled around the dragon's skeleton. They looked between the fallen beast and the small girl who felled it, none bothering to hide their staring.
The Dragonborn twirled her hair around her finger and looked away from the guards. “Well I certainly caused a bit of a scene.”
“The dragon caused the scene, not you.” They started off down the street again, the Dragonborn a few paces ahead of Lydia. “Are you alright?” Lydia asked, picking up her pace.
“Fine,” she said, staring straight ahead, “Why do you ask?”
“You were very eager to get away.”
“Yes, well, a dragon attacked. That's as good enough a reason to get away as any.”
“A dragon that you killed. You know, you're a hero to those people now.”
She chewed her lower lip and said, “No, I'm no hero. I killed the dragon because I was in danger, that's hardly heroic. Besides, all of those guards were helping. They're the real heroes.”
Lydia looked down at her, “They don't see it that way. You may think your intentions were selfish, but they think you're a god among men.”
The Dragonborn squinted and tilted her head back ever so slightly, “I don't care for the attention, is all.”
“Hm.” Lydia turned her attention to the road. “I suppose… I guess I would have thought the attention would be nice.” What Nordic child hadn't dreamed of the kind of glory being Dragonborn brings? Well, the Dragonborn wasn't Nordic, perhaps she had different aspirations as a child.
She shrugged, “For some people, maybe. It's all just too much for me.” She looked down at the pavement.
Perhaps being Dragonborn was not as rewarding as Lydia imagined it would be.
They stayed the night at the Sleeping Giant Inn. The Dragonborn had no interest in mingling with the Inn's patrons, so the two holed themselves up in one of the two small rooms they rented.
Unable to find a candle for the life of them, the Dragonborn resigned to casting a weak magelight spell. Her alteration magic had little training and the light barely lit the room. She curled up on the center of the bed like a cat, and Lydia settled herself in a chair in the corner of the room.
“Tired?” She asked.
The Dragonborn nodded and said, “Killing dragons is hard work, you know.”
Lydia smiled, “I'm sure.”
They sat in a comfortable silence until the light began to find and the noise outside the room ceased.
The spell flickered out, leaving the room in complete darkness. “All out of magicka,” Lydia said quietly.
The Dragonborn hummed in agreement. Eyes closed, she mumbled, “Nothing lasts forever.”
Nothing lasts forever. Lydia stood and made her way to the door, “Goodnight, my Thane.”