Blackwidow121493

Brett felt numb as she sat on the floor, watching maids change Alduin's sheets. The events of the night before hadn't seemed real until she had seen the bloodstained silk. That's when everything had sunk in, making her head spin and her stomach turn. Her first instinct was the same as it had been when he had kissed her: To break everything in sight. Unfortunately, replacement furniture was still being built, and anything remotely breakable had been kept out of her reach. To make things worse, Alduin, who usually disappeared before she woke up, had decided to idle around his room that morning. Though he didn't speak much or pay her much atten

Brett could hardly breathe as she dashed up the side of the mountain, her fingers raw from clawing at the ice. She could feel the heat of Alduin's breath behind her, so close that it seemed as if the monstrous dovah had already swallowed her. With barely a backwards glance, she redoubled her grip on her Conjured sword and swung it backwards. She felt it make contact with the metallic scales, though it didn't seem to have done much damage. She'd never been in a fight like this. Never. And she wasn't sure that she was going to survive. Not that she hadn't been in fights before. She'd been in desperate, mad scrambles with bandits and rogue mag

"Drem yol lok, Dovahkiin." ["Peace fire sky {Greetings}, Dragonborn."] Brett could feel her hands begin to shake at the sight of the black dragon. She quickly crossed her arms, trying to look indignant, not terrified. That in itself seemed like an impossible task: The last time she had seen him as a true dovah, she had been wearing her armor, and she'd had her Conjured sword. She'd had a barrier between herself and the eldest of Akatosh's children, and a way to protect herself should that barrier be compromised. There was always a failsafe. But now, she had nothing. There was no armor, no weapon, no magicka. There was no place to fall back t

~*~* Alduin had had this dream before. A battlefield was laid out before him. The frosty grounds of Skyrim's plains were covered in the bodies of the fallen, both mortal and dovah alike. The skeletal remains of his fallen dragons was almost enough to make Alduin grimace, but there was a sense of triumph that told him that he had won this war. Why else would he be walking this bloody field except to examine the destruction he had caused? His eyes scanned the field. He was looking for something, something he had to find. It seemed absolutely vital, something new…. 'Fin Dovahkiin.' ['The Dragonborn.'] A familiar head of dark hair cam