4E 201, Outside Whiterun
Gerron Ironbreaker
The so-called hunting party was two hundred strong. A ragtag group of strangers, perhaps, but no less formidable for it.
The majority of them were made of hardened guards from Whiterun—all clad in solid steel and padded surcoats, with the horse sigil of Whiterun emblazoned on their round shields. Beside them rode ten members of the Companions, the legendary warrior order of Whiterun.
Gerron had recognized some of them. Aela with her face streaked in warpaint and a bow behind her back. Vilkas and Farkas, who were said to be warriors without equal. And Skjor, the man lauded to be the next harbinger after the current one passes on.
And then there were the volunteers. Mercenaries and sellswords who belonged to no faction, but burned with a hunger for glory. A woman in full steel plate named Uthgerd rode beside a scarred Nord called Sinmir. The Dunmer mercenary Jenassa flanked by the Redguard swordsman named Amren.
Gerron rode in the second column, the leather reins of his chestnut-colored horse gripped in one hand and Mercury Hammer slung across his back.
The air was heavy with tension, but it was not fear that stirred in him.
It was fire.
The rhythmic beat of two hundred hooves striking the earth in unison stirred something ancient in his blood. The rhythm of war, he thought. The song of warriors marching to meet their fate. He hadn't felt this alive in years.
Their destination was the Western Watchtower, an old outpost built atop a rise just west of Whiterun. The road was clear thanks to the Jarl's proclamation. Farmsteads had shuttered, fields lay abandoned, and the villagers had sought refuge within the city walls. The road felt eerie in its emptiness.
The column was led by Irileth, the Dunmer housecarl to Jarl Balgruuf. She was accompanied by a few veteran guards, and just beside her rode a younger woman in Vigilant of Stendarr robes, her face pale and tight with nerves, though he could see the resolution behind them.
Her eyes kept glancing skywards, her brows furrowed in thought.
Curious—and perhaps sensing a kindred spirit—Gerron guided his horse closer.
"You alright?" he asked, voice even.
The woman turned to look at him, startled. Her eyes were an amber yellow color. "Yeah. I'm alright," she said after a pause. Then she sighed, the act loosing the tension on her shoulders. "It's just... I'm worried."
Gerron arched a brow, "About the dragon?"
"I was at Helgen," she said quietly, and understanding appeared on Gerron's face. "I saw what one of those things can do. Nothing we threw at it worked—not steel, not not magic. It tore through the Imperial Legion like they were wheat before the scythe."
Gerron's face shifted. "I see," he said softly. "Then you're one of the few who knows what we're actually facing."
"I suppose so," she replied, glancing back toward the column. "Most of these folks... I don't think they yet believe what it is they're facing. I mean I get it, Dragons were just creatures lauded as myth after all."
"I don't think they want to believe," Gerron said, gruffly. "Hope's a strange thing. But I'm sure we'll all be ready as soon as the first arrow flies."
She chuckled bitterly at that. "Well said. I'm Kiera by the way. Kiera Fendalyn."
"Gerron Ironbreaker." He offered a small nod. "Can you at least tell me what to expect?"
She shifted in her saddle, adjusting her grip on the reins. "Mobility," she said after a moment. "That's the worst part. It's not just big. It's fast. Really fast. You don't expect something that size to move like it does. And it stays airborne, often circling in the air like a hawk."
"That'll make things difficult."
She nodded grimly. "It's hard enough to pierce their scales. Even when you do hit them, it's like striking solid steel. Arrows merely bounce off and spells scatter on their scales. "
At that moment, Irileth slowed her horse slightly, clearly having listened in.
"We've got about half the company equipped with bows," the Dunmer housecarl said. "The Companions also possess Skyforged Steel, though I'm not holding out for miracles. Do you have any tactical suggestions? Anything to give us an edge?"
Kiera took a breath and nodded.
"The Imperials at Helgen had more archers than we do and none of it mattered. Part of it was due to them being caught in surprise, but it didn't change the fact that the dragon flew too fast, too erratically. Most arrows missed. And even the ones that hit didn't seem to do much."
Irileth frowned. "Then what did work?"
"The wings," Kiera said. "They seemed thinner. Not armored like the rest of its body. If we can cripple one of them... we might force it to land, where our swords can reach them."
Gerron leaned forward slightly, interested. "Ground it, then hammer it."
"Exactly," Kiera said. Her voice was gaining strength now. "But we have to be careful. The dragon was capable of using the Thu'um. There was a burst of force that scattered men like toys, another that pulled meteors out of the sky. Keep spread out. Don't bunch. And if you hear anything strange from its mouth—run or duck."
"Dragon Shouts," Irileth murmured. "I have heard the Jarl and his brother talk about it before. There are even stories how Ulfric Stormcloak used it to tear the High King apart." She shook her head. "I always thought it was just a Nord myth."
"Not anymore," Kiera said, firmly.
Irileth's expression darkened. "Fine. Then we use the archers to harass it. Focus fire on the wings. If it lands, we charge. Keep it surrounded, hit it hard. And pray."
Kiera nodded. "We're certainly going to try."
Gerron grinned then, the heat in his blood flaring. "That's more like it. I have something that might ground it, if that's what's needed."
He tightened his grip on the reins as the silhouette of the Western Watchtower appeared in the distance, a broken spire rising against the cloudy sky.
The hunt was about to begin.
…
Kiera Fendalyn
The air stank of smoke and blood.
Even with the fires dwindling and the corpses no longer burning, the stench was still prevalent in the air.
As they approached the watchtower, her stomach twisted. The structure itself—now barely more than cracked stone and rubble—leaned ominously against the sky, the foundations having been troubled by whatever the dragon did to make it this way.
The ground was littered with death. Burnt bodies, limbs torn clean off, and unrecognizable heaps of armor and flesh. There was no time to count the dead. Dozens, perhaps more.
The Companions as well as the accompanying Whiterun guards growled as they saw what became of their brother and sisters in arms.
"Do not cry for them now. You can mourn later, we have a mission to compete." Irileth said. "Fan out and keep your eyes open. Search for survivors."
"Yes, Housecarl."
The order snapped everyone back into motion. Groups of ten peeled off toward the ruins, scanning for survivors among the wreckage. All the horses were tied to a nearby post. When the battle eventually comes, having horses running around amidst the chaos was something none of them wanted.
Aela dropped to one knee beside a melted patch of stone, tracing it with her fingers. "Not even dragonfire leaves scorch like this…" she muttered. "It's almost like—"
"Lightning." Gerron completed, following her train of thought. "Which means the dragon possesses the Thu'um for the lightning breath."
Kiera was quite surprised when the man approached her during their ride, but she was grateful for it. She had asked Irileth if she recognized him, for Gerron had the look of a seasoned warrior. Irileth had shook her head.
If anything, he looked reliable, and the hammer behind him seemed like a powerful magical artifact. She hoped it would be of some help.
She offered a silent prayer over the remains of a fallen guard, fingers brushing the melted steel of his helm.
A shriek broke the quiet. A survivor—barely more than a boy—stumbled out from the tower, face pale, eyes wild.
"N-NO! Get back! They're still here somewhere! Tormund and Gjorg got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!"
"Guardsman!" Irileth shouted when she spotted the survivor. "What happened here?! Where is the dragon?"
Kiera interrupted before the guard could answer. "Wait, did you say 'they'? As in more than one dragon?"
Everyone heard what Kiera said, and the grim realization made everyone tense in shock and fear.
The tremor that followed was not from the earth—it was from the sky.
Twin roars split the clouds.
"Here they come!" Irileth bellowed, drawing her blade. "Positions!"
Chaos erupted as archers sprinted up the stairs and ladders of the walls and tower as the infantry spread across the field. With nary a word, Ebonyflesh glimmered across her limbs like dark glass.
"I see one!" Vilkas pointed to the north, where a shadow broke from the peaks.
"There's another!" Uthgerd called, her voice hoarse with dread.
"Divines save us." Sinmir said as the two dragons approached from opposite directions, stopping when they were a hundred yards from the watchtower. They hovered in midair, beating their mighty wings to remain airborne.
From this distance, Kiera could tell both dragons were massive, though still much smaller than the one in Helgen. One had scales a darker shade of gold, it was much bigger than the second one, with scales the color of rust.
"What are they waiting for?" someone asked.
Then both dragons started to speak. "YOL—!"
Kiera knew what was coming. "Everyone take cover!"
"—TOOR SHUL!"
Both dragons spewed a river of fire from their gaping maws. But instead of aiming at the cluster of humans, they aimed straight down to the ground.
Kiera realized what the dragons were plotting when the two great beasts began flying in a wide diamond like shape around the watchtower, creating a cage of fire that imprisoned everyone within.
"They're caging us, making sure none of us run away!" Skjor growled as he observed the wall of fire.
Loud, uproarious laughter filled the air as the Dragons flapped their wings above them. "Puny Mortals, you look like naught but scattered vermin!"
Archers loosed a storm of arrows—most bounced harmlessly off dragonhide.
"Arkay save us, we're all going to die," one of the guards murmured. The others didn't look any better, their swords and shields held slack in their arms.
The dragons took a deep breath once more. "QO SPAAN LOK!"
Kiera could see the sparks bubbling behind their throats. Yet before the storm of lightning could emerge, explosions covered both dragons in smoke.
The rust-colored dragon shrieked as it plummeted from the sky. The gold one staggered, wings flapping madly as shock rippled through the air.
Two hundred heads gazed at Gerron with his hammer transformed—its head split open like a blooming flower, pulsing with pure magicka.
"Come on!" Gerron roared before the defeatist mentality could affect the others. "Let's drag these overgrown lizards to the ground and make them regret the day they messed with us! For Skyrim! For Sovngarde!"
The Companions were the first to join his cheer.
"For the Nords!" Skjor screamed.
"For Whiterun!" Farkas bellowed.
Sparks ignited in every warrior's soul. Kiera felt it too—a rising fire that even the dragons could not smother.
Irileth seemed to nod in approval. "Archers, aim for the wings!" She commanded. "The rest of you follow me! Let's go kill a dragon!"
Arrows sang once more. This time, some found their mark, piercing thin wing-membranes. The gold dragon bellowed in fury.
Kiera rushed behind Irileth and Gerron toward the downed rust dragon. It thrashed, already recovering. Fire bubbled in its throat.
Before it could unleash another shout, Gerron smashed its jaw sideways with a thunderous blow, sending the fire blast spiraling harmlessly away.
Kiera's eyes widened in disbelief as a few fangs got knocked out of its mouth.
"Hyah!" Irileth had followed through, puncturing her sword through the gaps in the scales, but it merely bounced off, much to her chagrin.
Kiera however, had learned her lesson. Coating her blade in the strongest Ebonyflesh she could, Dawnbite flashed forward and cleaved a chunk of a dragon's flesh.
The dragon staggered in pain from the wound, a large gash having been carved right at the side of its chest, far bigger than a person and gushing out blood like a fountain. It's tail began to swing wildly, catching a handful of whiterun guards and slamming them away with bone-crunching force.
That was when the gold dragon began to speak. "Zah Kind… You wish to face us below?" it thundered, voice filled with cruel glee. "Then Rinik, very well—I shall oblige!"
It swooped in, ignoring the archers in the tower and landed right on top of a group of soldiers. six were instantly crushed to death underneath its clawed feet, while dozens more were flung away as it hit the ground with earth-shattering force.
"Let me handle him!" Gerron bellowed, sprinting toward the gold beast. "Companions, with me!"
The Companions followed without hesitation. Skjor, Aela, Farkas, Vilkas—each one surged toward the golden beast.
Kiera stayed with Irileth, flanking the rust dragon.
"Surround it and pierce its sides!" Irileth commanded, the guards spreading out and began thrusting their spears at the dragon's sides. While most of them merely bounced off the dragon's scales, some got lucky and managed to stab soft dragon flesh.
Uthgerd and Sinmir were at the forefront, smashing their greatswords into its scales while Amren slammed his shield to the dragon's eye.
But the dragon spun in fury—its tail whipped across the field, sending dozens flying into the air.
Kiera forced herself to ignore the men dying around her and rushed forward, ducking beneath the massive head that lunged towards her and swung her sword right at the dragon's shoulder, where the wing met body.
Her sword cleaved through the scales easily. The rust dragon howled in agony, before spinning its large body in its fury. Before Kiera could react, the beast's tail caught Kiera in the chest like a whip, sending her flying.
"Kiera!" Irileth screamed in worry.
Getting back up with a grimace, she sent a quick healing spell to fix her injuries. The Ebonyflesh held up, thankfully, but she had no doubt that her ribs were either bruised or cracked.
Looking back at the gold dragon, Kiera grimaced as the beast took a full bite of an axe-wielding Companion before spitting him back out, dead.
Gerron was there instantly, making use of the small gap in timing and slammed his warhammer into the dragon's left eye, crushing it.
The beast shrieked and blasted wind in every direction as it took to the skies, stumbling midair. The now one-eyed dragon glared hatefully at Gerron, who met the glare with one of his own.
Seeing his flight path, Kiera shouted to Irileth and the guards. "Everyone get back!"
They did so, quickly avoiding the gold dragon who landed beside its wounded companion. "Enough! We have played far too much, Silklovkul! Mey! Let us finish this and be done!"
She felt a hand lifting her up by the arm, to see Gerron standing there with a few dents and marks across his ebony armor. "You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm good."
"Then let us continue."
More arrows flew from the tower towards the two dragons, most of it embedding in their wings. The gold dragon snarled in frustration as it took the skies again. The rust one remained on the ground, incapable of joining in the air due to its busted wing.
"YOL—!
"It's another fire breath!" Skjor screamed. "Everyone take cover!"
Everyone rushed for the safety of whatever walls remained in the tower. But they were too late. Most of the warriors were scattered across the field when they fought the dragons, their folly would be answered now.
"—TOOR SH–!"
Once more, before their shouts could finish, a blast of pure magicka hit the golden dragon straight out of the air. It was more powerful than the previous one, leaving a good sized hole in the center of its chest as it fell from the sky.
The rust colored one however, was interrupted by none other than Kiera—who had rushed forward, her body moving swiftly with a speed enhancing Alteration spell—and with a leap, rammed Dawnbite through its tongue, pinning it to its jaw. Her hand, glowing green, slapped against its throat, planting the most powerful paralysis spell she could on the dragon before looking back.
"GERRON!"
The large nord heeded her words. Preparing another supercharged blast, he aimed it straight at the rust colored dragon's open jaws. Kiera could see the fear in its eyes as it found itself incapable of moving. The blast went straight through, its chest puffing slightly from the force as smoke emerged from its mouth.
The paralysis ended, and the dragon slumped forward. Dead.
The Whiterun guards exploded into cheers as their first enemy was slain, but those same voices were rendered mute at what happened next.
The dragon's body started to glow, and Kiera's eyes widened. 'Was the dragon reviving itself?!'
She prepared to swing her sword once more to end it. Much to her surprise, the dragon's flesh dissolved into harsh streams of light and energy, all shooting straight for her.
She stood stunned and confused, as power she had never felt in her life rushed through her. It felt as if her veins were on fire.
Her instincts took over then, looking into the air she shouted for the first time. "FUS!"
A wave of force erupted from her throat, slightly disturbing the clouds in the sky. The remaining guards stared. "Dragonborn…"
"It cannot be!" All heads snapped up towards the second dragon, who despite his injuries, remained hovering near the broken watchtower. "You…you are Dovahkiin!"
The Whiterun guards, who had been looking at Kiera with the respect any dragon slayer deserved, now looked at her with reverence.
The dragon hovered a moment longer. Then its voice turned low and solemn. "Fah faal bormah… We came to feast, only to find ourselves prey. I, Mirmulnir, shall take my leave. Alduin shall hear of this."
Wait, did that mean the dragon was running away?
"You dare leave, coward!" Kiera shouted.
Mirmulnir snarled. "Still, your tongue, joor. Dov does not flee. I am granting you an extension of your flightless life. Be grateful. Bo nu."
Suddenly, the howl of a wolf was heard as multiple werewolves emerged from the top of the tower and jumped towards the dragon's back. With them was Gerron, leaping from stone to sky.
He launched himself from the tower's edge like a meteor, hammer raised high.
He slammed it down upon Mirmulnir's back, massive sparks of lightning emerging from the impact. With the Werewolves crawling around its body like ants picking apart a much larger foe, the dragon could do nothing as it fell from the sky.
The dragon's screech of alarm echoed across the plains and the battle outside the cage of fire began.
…
AN: Here it is, the beginning of everything. Massive differences happened here as you could tell. Two dragons appeared instead of two, Mirmulnir as well as Silklovkul. Kiera killed the first dragon (with some help from Gerron), and now the man himself is leading a pack of werewolves as they hunt down the second one.
You better believe Hircine is looking down at this and salivating.
Gotta say though, I can't believe how quickly this fic gained attention. A little under a month after being published and we're almost at 60k views. You guys are awesome.
As always, more chapters are available on my Pat_reon. Chapter 22 should be available by the time this chapter is posted. Just look up my name and you'll find me.
Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Cheers!
Trivia: Skyrim's got all kinds of awesome and interesting Daedric Princes. Who is your favorite?