A Dragonborn by any other name

Prologue - Hero of Kvatch

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the ideas in my head. I don't own the Elder scrolls series or anything you may recognise.

Lena hurried through the night, keeping to the shadows. She was careful to avoid the guards, she didn't know where she stood in the eyes of the law at the moment. Finally she reached the door and knocked, three long, one short. Jauffre opened it, a suspicious look in his eye.

"Lena?" She simply nodded.

"I need to talk to you Jauffre…. It's about Martin."

He sighed and opened the door, letting her in before shutting and locking it again. He didn't know why she had insisted on all the cloak and dagger, he much preferred being straight-forward. Lena sighed, her gold-toned skin pale in worry and exhaustion. She took off her cloak and laid it on her arm, before turning to face him, raw fear in her eyes for the first time he had seen. She was cradling her hands around her stomach protectively.

"Oh." Came his simple response to the revelation.

"Five months at least."

"You're sure it's his?"

The Altmer didn't even bother to reply, instead springing up to start pacing. "I'm not handing my child, OUR child over to the wolves of politics. She'll die before she reaches her first birthday."

"She?"

"Just a feeling." She continued pacing, before stopping and turning to face him again. "Jauffre…. I killed a man last night. Me. I haven't slept since, but he found out…. He found out who the father was. I couldn't let my child get thrown to the politicians."

Jauffre suppressed his shock, though he did suppose she was just like one of those mother bears protecting her cubs. Already his mind was racing. "If you killed a man… That means the Brotherhood might try to claim you." He held up a hand to silence her cry. "Let them. Join, and do whatever you have to do, but keep the last Septim alive. She will be Dragonborn, and I have a feeling we will need her help sooner rather than later."

Five years later – Bravil

Lena settled Gwen, named after her father's Daedric friend Sanguine, on the front of Shadowmere's saddle, before swinging up behind her, wincing as she got a kick in retort from her midsection. She winced, but trotted the black horse out of town, trying to explain why the little girl couldn't see her poppa shadow anymore without scarring her any more than had to have happened after spending the first four and a half years of her life with the Dark Brotherhood.

She finally was able to convince her daughter to be quiet, though she patted her black hair with her free hand as she rode. She was to be a listener, she was to rebuild the brotherhood in Cyrodill, but at the cost of her Shadow, her Lucien. She rested a hand on her midsection as she rode north, wondering if this child, like her Guenivere, would have her build, but their father's overall colouring.

She rode the pass to Skyrim easily, she needed to find another Speaker and she had been told by the Night Mother the next Listener, her assistant, resided there. She would be away a few months, but she had to leave her children somewhere safe, in case one day she didn't come home.