What if She Couldn't (Ralof x Reader)

Chapter 1: A New Arrival

With the familiar hiss of an alteration spell, my cave lit up. Ahh, that's better. Now that my features aren't drowned in the dark, I can finally describe myself. Let's see... don't mind the blood and frostnip... pale, gaunt skin, messy hair, and muddy eyes that had lost their fire long ago. Extremely skinny from lack of food. Clothed in rags. Yep, that's me.

I haven't always been like this. Once I was known as the Dragonborn, the hero of legend. The Dragonborn was supposed to save Skyrim, not let it fall into darkness! I can't stop beating myself up about failing. But I guess I have nothing better to do, so I'll tell you my sad tale.

It all started when I was brought to be executed by those Imperial dogs in the hold Helgen. They had captured the leader of the rebellion, Ulfric Stormcloak, and were about to execute him, my good friend Ralof, me, and a couple of other guys. I don't really remember anything before that. When I was about to be executed, a scaly, fire-breathing dragon swooped in out of nowhere. I escaped with Ulfric and Ralof, and went on many adventures since then.

The lord of the dragons, Alduin, was my greatest enemy. It turns out all the dragons were dead, but then Alduin resurrected them all? Not fair, if you ask me. In our final battle, every single person was relying on me. But I couldn't save Skyrim. I wonder why it's called Skyrim? My old friend Ashtonius used to say it's because our world is in a bowl shape, therefore the sky's the rim. It makes better sense than a sphere.

Anyways, I had to fight Alduin, I lost, the world plunged into chaos. Alduin captured me and stranded me on top of the tallest mountain in Skyrim, the Throat of the World. Took my inventory and left me with a sword, a shield, my friend Paarthurnax, and a front-row seat to watch Skyrim burn.

"Parthy, do you think we can ever save the world?" I said, peeking my head out of the cave I called home. It's been about a week since my fight, well, absolute beating from Alduin and the holds were still burning bright with dragonfire.

"Nin. Don't call me that," he hissed.

Yeah, forgot to mention. Parthy is a dragon, but he's not an evil one. The difference: he would rather keep Skyrim safe then burn it to the ground.

"Krosis, Paarthurnax. Lighten up a bit, you elderly dragon," I deadpanned.

Parthy usually talked in the ancient language of the dragons, the Dovahzul. From spending a week with him I had picked up on a couple of words, such as krosis, or "sorry". I found myself using that word a lot.

"Nin. Don't call me wuth, old, either. I'm immortal, unslaad, I can't die therefore I cannot age, bok," Parthy snarled.

"What's got you in such a bad mood?"

Parthy flicked his tail in the direction of the strong blood dragons guarding our prison on top of the mountain.

"My kin, the dov, are growing restless. They wish to krii, kill, us both," Parthy said.

"Ya know, as bad as this has been, I'm glad I have a friend with me."

"Fahdon, friend. Mortals and immortals alike have never called me that."

"I accept the honor of being your first friend."

"Fahdon," Parthy muttered, trying the word out. He seemed content and settled down in a big heap of snow to sleep.

I crawled back into my cave to conserve warmth. After spending many years alone, Parthy didn't have good social skills. No wonder he didn't have any friends. That, and the fact he lived one treacherous climb and a couple of frost wraiths from the nearest settlement.