Scales and Hearts | A Skyrim Fanfiction

Chapter Ten: Thane of Whiterun

Druthza

Upon stumbling through the double doors and into Dragonsreach, my Beeko right beside me, and my movements bringing forth a wince unto my face, I heard the guards flanking the entrance murmur with concern under their breaths as I made my way up the stairs and towards the Jarl's throne. The heat of the fire pit burning in the middle of the palace brought my aching body some relief, but not much.

I could hear the Jarl speaking with his steward, Proventus, about some matter concerning "the Greybeards," but as I drew near, the conversation died down, and everyone went quiet.

I felt the eyes of an unknown Nord man gazing at me with a slightly raised brow, a man who looked oddly similar to Balgruuf and who wore a set of scaled armor like Derkeethus.

But as I approached the latter, the Jarl creased his brow with concern and took in my disheveled appearance. "Shor's Bones, you're a mess!" He exclaimed, "are you alright? What happened out there?" He asked, scanning my fatigued expression as I heaved a sigh, the dirt and blood on my face and the visible bruises on my body making me appear quite wretched amongst the neatened individuals in the palace around me.

"I'm fine, Jarl Balgruuf. The watchtower was wrecked, but we... killed the dragon," I rumbled, my raspy Argonian voice mirroring my expression as I spoke, yet I appeared to force out the phrase "killed the dragon" as it felt wrong to say, the words heavy on my tongue. To me, at least.

"I knew I could count on Irileth for this. But... something tells me there's more to it than that." He replied, curiosity filling his green eyes as he looked at me.

You have no idea...

"I'm the Dragonborn," I said simply, and his face turned puzzled, the faces of the other blonde Nord and Proventus mirroring that of the Jarl's as he opened his mouth again. "Dragonborn, Druthza? ...what do you know about the Dragonborn?"

As the question surfaced, I put a mental restraint on myself to keep from actually telling him what I knew, instead telling him: "when I slayed the dragon, I took its soul."

His eyes then widened, "so it's true. The Greybeards really were summoning you, Druthza."

..that sounds familiar... I began remembering an excerpt from a book I had read a long time ago that detailed various heroes and villains across Tamriel, with one name in particular bubbling up in my psyche: Tiber Septim. The first Emperor of the Septim Empire, the only known person to unite all of Tamriel, and a Dragonborn himself, who had been summoned by the Greybeards long ago.

"The Greybeards?" I questioned, tilting my horned head as Derkeethus exhibited a similar form of curiosity beside me, a low rumble only audible to me sounding in the male's throat as his silvery-green eyes flicked between me and the three other men around us, his arms crossed over his chest as he shifted his weight a bit.

"Masters of the Way of the Voice. They live in seclusion high on the slopes of the Throat of the World." Balgruuf told me, and I proceeded to voice another question, already having a feeling about my answer. "What is it that they want with me?"

"The Dragonborn is uniquely gifted in the Voice - the ability to focus your vital essence into a Thu'um, or Shout." He said, "if you really are Dragonborn, they can teach you how to use your gift."

"Didn't you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun?" Asked the scaled armor-wearing Nord, making me turn my head to give him a nod. "That was the voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar!"