27th of Frostfall, 4E 201
I haven’t slept well in days.
Twelve days ago, I raided Northwatch Keep and rescued Thorald. I showed him the best route to the nearest Stormcloak camp and watched him leave. Then, I summoned the most destructive magic I knew to wreck the Thalmor’s fortress. I used spells that I had never, and would never, use against people. When I was finished, Northwatch Keep looked like it’d been hit by a meteor shower.
After that, I faced Potema in her own stronghold, the catacombs beneath Solitude. The strongest draugr I had ever encountered would die only to be raised again to serve her.
When I finally defeated Potema and stepped outside into the clear, cold air, I ached all over. I wanted to lie down in the snow and rest. Instead I teleported to Solitude and delivered the queen’s skull to Styrr, the priest of Arkay, and then reported back to Firebeard. Then I finally teleported home, gave Iona the day off, and soaked myself in a steaming herb-infused bath.
Up until now, that was perhaps the most difficult and aggravating day in my life in Skyrim. But that was nothing compared to what I’ve been going through the past week. After putting it off for too long, I finally gave Alvor’s warning to Jarl Balgruuf. He asked me to help his court wizard, Farengar Secret-Fire, with some dragon research. I surprised them both considerably when I produced the Dragonstone Farengar wanted. I found that thing weeks ago and had been trying to figure it out its writings ever since.
Moments after that, a dragon attacked a watchtower just outside of the city. I fought it alongside a contingent of guards. They mostly used their bows while I used holy magic (very effective against undead and evil monsters, I’ve learned).
Just before it died, it said something. It sounded like “Dovahkiin, no!” Then it fell with a huge crash towards the ground. Its body self-incinerated, and a great rushing power escaped from it and rushed into me. I think … I think it was its soul.
The next several hours went by in a haze. I talked to the guards who witnessed what happened, Jarl Balgruuf, my new housecarl, but I didn’t really absorb what I was being told. All I really knew was that I had killed a dragon and absorbed its soul, and that soul empowered one of the words of power I had learned.
I went to High Hrothgar because I had been told to go. Before then, I returned to all of those dragon lairs I had found. All of them now had dragons inhabiting them, which I killed. There were nine of them. I used their souls to empower several Shouts, and practiced using them for a while. I wanted to experiment, try to understand what I had become … or maybe what I had always been.
I have finished what might have been called my basic training. Morning has just begun, and I am sitting on a ledge close to the temple. The view is beyond spectacular, a landscape artist would love being here. I can easily see Dragonsreach from where I sit.
I am still trying to understand what I am, Dragonborn. There’s so much for me to take in. The name “dovahkiin” is supposed to mean that I have a soul of a dragon, that I’m somehow descended from them. But … “Dov Ah Kiin” also translates into “Dragon-Hunter Child.” That suggests I’m supposed to hunt dragons.
But dragons aren’t just beasts or monsters. I’ve heard them speak; they have language, intelligence. When I fight them, they don’t feel like bandits and necromancers, people who have willingly degraded themselves for greed and power. They are power, and I just take that power when they die. What does that do to them? What is that doing to me?
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