"I can't believe it! You're...Dragonborn!"

Rebecca's hands were trembling. Strangely, she felt strong, as though she had gained a power that couldn't be stolen. But still, her body was weak from a day filled with fighting and fire. It was an effort just to stand up – one of the guards ran forward to help her to her feet.

"What you did back there, that was shouting." he told her. Rebecca could see the whites of his eyes through the slits of his helmet. He looked as though he couldn't decide whether he was afeared or in awe of her. She saw much the same expression in the eyes of her companions, who stood amongst the guards.

"My grandfather used to tell stories..."

"Never in all my years!"

"Can it really be true?"

Rebecca retrieved her sword while the guards started to babble. Irileth was glaring at her with a look of deep distrust that made her heart sink. Contrary to the game, becoming the Dovahkiin felt much weightier in reality, and she began to wonder if everyone would be as scared or suspicious of her powers as this lot.

"Come on." she murmured, gesturing for T'ariq and Felix to follow her as she turned to head back to Whiterun, leaving the colossal skeleton of the dragon behind. It seemed that the two men had exhausted their capacity for oddity that day, as for once they had nothing to say, and no penetrating questions to ask. Rebecca was grateful, as the first stars began to appear on the horizon and her mind filled with dreams of a straw-filled bed and a plump pillow.

"Dragonborn, wait!"

The company stopped and turned on the path to see a single Whiterun guard jogging up to them. As he neared, he took off his helmet and dropped it on the ground, revealing a shock of platinum blonde hair tied back in a low ponytail, and several stripes of white war paint along his jawline, rising like snowy claw marks against his stubble. A couple of them ran over onto his lower lip, and had been smudged in all the fighting. He kneeled before Rebecca as he approached, almost making her laugh aloud in shock. Was this fool proposing?

"If you will have me, I pledge myself to your service," he panted, one hand on his heart and the other on the hilt of his greatsword, which was stuck into the ground by his side. "I will protect you with my life, and fight in every battle you choose to take, in defense or aggression. I swear my sword by your side."

Felix stepped forward, squaring his shoulders.

"Spot's taken, buddy." he growled. Rebecca pushed him to the side, an amused smile pulling at her lips. She cocked her head to the side as she considered the guard in front of her. He seemed brave, he was broad shouldered, and even through his chainmail she could tell that he was well-muscled. And, she thought to herself, they could certainly use an extra pair of arms in battle while she learnt how to fight.

Rebecca shrugged. Having made up her mind, she beckoned the man with a wave before turning around to continue their path back to Whiterun. "Sure, you can tag along."

The man cast a glance at T'ariq and Felix before getting awkwardly to his feet and following. He left his helmet behind on the pavement, not looking back as he jogged to catch up with Rebecca.

"I'm Angmar, by the way." he informed her, swinging his greatsword effortlessly back over his shoulder. Rebecca cast a glance at his deep blue eyes and gave him a half-smile.

"Rebecca." She almost gave him her hand to shake, before remembering that English etiquette was likely totally foreign to this hardy Nord.

Angmar smiled back. "Can I ask where you're from?"

"No." growled T'ariq. Rebecca turned, surprised at the hostile tone to his voice. She found herself unable to hold back a cackle of delight as she noticed the two men bristling behind her, shooting daggers at the back of Angmar's head.

"Excuse those two, they're just.." she trailed off, unable to excuse her companions. She turned the conversation back to Angmar, curious herself about his origins.

"Can I ask where you're from?" She had noticed that he didn't have the thick Nordic accent common to the guards. Coupled with the unique warpaint, Rebecca was already building an assumption of his history.

Angmar dipped his head with a wide smile. "I guess I don't fit in too well with the other guards, huh?" he chuckled. "I'm from the Reach. I came to Whiterun in Last Seed to get away from the chaos in the West."

Rebecca nodded slowly. "I don't blame you."

"Anyway, the guard's life didn't really appeal to me," he admitted. "I prefer to be out in the field, with the real action."

When they arrived in Whiterun they were shepherded straight back to Dragonsreach by the guards, who shot venomous looks at Angmar. As expected, the Greybeards' earth-shattering summons echoed between the mountains just as they were ascending the steps to the palace.

"What in all of Tamriel was-?"

Rebecca silenced Angmar with a wave of her hand. "Ignore them, we'll get to that later." But Agmar simply stood, astounded as she walked past him towards the front doors.

"But-"

"You get used to it." T'ariq shot him a wily smile, climbing onwards.

Later that night, when Rebecca had been proclaimed thane of Whiterun, and was afforded the Axe for her services to the hold, the party found a celebration of sorts awaiting them in the Bannered Mare. From the moment they stepped through the doors, tankards were raised in their honour and they were cheered for defeating the dragon all night long. Their rooms were even payed for by an anonymous nobleman. All of the sudden affection and gratitude warmed Rebecca's heart, lifting some of the burden that she had been carrying since that morning in the Barrow.

"Long live the Dovahkiin!"

Rebecca turned on her stool to nod her thanks as another round of toasts began. Well, this is certainly more appreciation than I ever got in the game, she thought with a smile.

"It's funny, you speak like an altmer, look like a Nord, and act like a noblewoman." Angmar gave a deep chuckle after his third pint of mead. Rebecca was beginning to get uncomfortable with how many questions he was asking, and had been avoiding any drink herself in case she spilled some secrets. She was beginning to wonder whether accepting the Reachman into their little group had been such a good idea after all.

Rebecca was saved from answering by the smack of doors against the wall, heralding the arrival of the Companions. The inn roared with excitement and the citizens of Whiterun descended into drunken chaos. Women of all ages raced after Farkas and Vilkas, who shrugged them off with sullen glares. Skjor was immediately challenged to wrestle with some very drunken men, one of which included a barely-conscious Belethor. To Rebecca's amazement, Aela herself came marching over to the bar at which they sat, and flung an arm around the little girl.

"Well done," she gave her a mighty slap on the back that almost made Rebecca cough up the ale she was sipping. "It seems I had you wrong – you're much stronger than a whelp."

Rebecca stammered something unintelligible, which the Huntress completely ignored, ordering herself a beer from the bar before turning back to Rebecca.

"I've been sent here to extend an invitation," she explained, her voice deepening to avoid being overheard. She reached over Rebecca's shoulder to grab her tankard and stayed there, her lips brushing the younger woman's ear as she spoke. "Kodlak would like you to come and test your mettle at Jorrvaskr."

This time Rebecca truly did spit out her drink.

"Me?" she gasped, more for lack of breath than out of shock. Aela tipped her head back and roared with laughter. "Yes you, girl! Any woman who can slay a dragon is worthy of a seat in our mead hall." She was looking at Rebecca with fondness, her lips twitching in amusement.

"Thank you!" Rebecca was at a loss for words, still far too intimidated by her presence for her brain to function properly. Aela gave her another hard slap on the back before heading off to her fellow Shield-Brothers, her red hair glowing like flames in the firelight.

A Companion...already? Rebecca hardly knew what to think. In the space of a few days she had gone from complete incompetence to bringing down a dragon. Although, not without a lot of help, she reminded herself. And, all of the times she had really stepped up to the plate had largely been with the assistance of her dragon blood. She still had a long way to go if she hoped to defeat Alduin someday, let alone prove herself to Kodlak Whitemane.

Rebecca watched Angmar from across the room as he chatted up a few giggling maidens, having taken off his armour and replaced it with a cuirass that exposed his rippling biceps. Perhaps he could train her to fight properly. He was clearly pretty handy with a sword, and Rebecca was going to need all the help she could get in the adventures that lurked around the corner.

"So," Felix slammed his tankard in between T'ariq and herself, leaning on the bar and fixing Rebecca with that stupid smirk of his. "Got a thing for the Forsworn, eh?"

T'ariq rolled his eyes as she groaned. He got to his feet and placed a couple of gold coins in front of the innkeeper.

"This one needs rest." was all he said, an ear twitching in irritation as he headed up the stairs and towards their rooms. Rebecca turned her sour gaze back to Felix, who was leaning perilously close to her face.

"Look what you did." she complained, throwing an arm up in T'ariq's direction. Felix waved a hand dismissively, his eyes fixed on her lips as he moved ever closer. Rebecca practically stumbled off her chair in order to put some space between them, leaning instead against the wall beside the fire and smiling meekly.

"But seriously," Felix chuckled, before glancing over at Angmar with a glare of uncharacteristic severity. "Do you like him?"

Rebecca scoffed in disbelief. She almost did a double take, her eyes shifting back and forth between the two blonde-haired men to see if Felix would let up and admit he was kidding.

"Oh, you want a genuine answer," she raised her eyebrows and took another sip from her mug, the frothy ale spilling a little onto her leather battle skirt. Rebecca made sure that she was looking straight at Felix when she answered, so that he could see the sincerity in her gaze. "No, Felix the dumbass, I do not fancy Angmar."

Felix frowned in confusion, cocking his head to the side a little before Rebecca realised her mistake. "Too many weird words?" she asked, the ghost of a smirk playing on her lips.

Felix nodded, grinning. His warm brown eyes seemed to travel her face as if savouring every detail. Before she knew what he was doing, Felix had slipped one hand around her waist and the other on the wall above her, leaning right up against her cheek. "Good." he murmured, his voice low and sultry against the background cacophony of the Bannered Mare. Rebecca's smile faded when she felt something stirring deep within her as the blood rushed up to her face. She felt like a deer in the headlights as his fingers inched around to her hip, allowing him to press his lean, sunkissed body against her. She couldn't escape if she wanted to - which, with a start, she realised that she didn't.

Squirming to bring her arms up against his shoulders, Rebecca found the strength to push him back a ways so that he wasn't quite so temptingly close. Searching desperately for a distraction, her eyes landed on the tattoo on his shoulder, the rough black lines etching out the wings of the Imperial dragon.

"What's the story behind this?" she scrambled, her cheeks still red hot as she looked away, tapping the scarred skin.

Felix looked down at where her fingers lay, a sad smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"How about a story for a story?" he proposed. "Why don't you tell me something about your homeland?"

Rebecca nodded. "Ok, that seems fair," she admitted. "Um...let's see...It's cold, but not as cold as here. The city where I'm from is very big, much bigger than any in Tamriel, and its very noisy and busy most of the time. The roads are all filled with metal carts, but aside from all that, parts of it are really lush, and beautiful."

Felix watched her eyes glaze over as she spoke, and knew that she had gone back there in her mind. "You must miss it a lot." She nodded absentmindedly before turning back to him.

"Your turn." she grinned. Felix hung his head in defeat.

"Ok, ok," he chuckled. "I grew up in a small town in the Colovian highlands...in Cyrodiil," he added, upon seeing the confused flash in Rebecca's eyes. "Not far from the border with Falkreath, actually. Anyway, my pa wanted me to take over the farm when he got older, but I've always wanted to travel. I can't think of anything worse than being stuck in that village for the rest of my life."

He took a long swig of his lager before carrying on. "One day, he got sick, and it looked like he wasn't going to make it...so I panicked, and ran off to join the Imperial army." He tapped his shoulder. "That's how I got this. And how I ended up in Helgen. I ditched when I saw the dragon. Decided I didn't want to be stuck guarding some hamlet when the end of the world arrived." Felix caught one of those glints in his eye that Rebecca had always seen as sorrow. Now she knew it to be regret.

Rebecca stepped up onto her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Felix blinked in surprise before hugging her back.

"I guess we've both left homes we can't return to." she sighed as she pulled back. The two shared a forlorn smile as they returned to the bar and started betting on how many women Angmar could woo before the night was over. After a little while, Felix turned to her with a curious grin.

"Metal carts?" he asked as Rebecca burst into a fit of giggles. "But wouldn't they be too heavy for the horses to pull?"

She shook her head as her laughter subsided. "That's an answer for another day."

The townsfolk began to sing heartily along to Mikael's flute, a jaunty tune that tempted her over towards the fire. Rebecca decided suddenly that she wanted to join them, and stood up far too fast. Her head swam and spots appeared in her vision, causing her to slump back down and into Felix's arms.

"Whoops," she groaned. "Guess I had more to drink than I realised."

"Come on," Felix grunted as he lifted her back onto her feet, ducking so that he could slip an arm under her own and help her along. "I think it's time the princess had her beauty sleep."

"I am not a princess!" Rebecca tried to whack Felix and missed, her hand slapping back down onto her own thigh as she batted at thin air. Felix only chuckled, hoisting her up so that he could carry her up the stairs. Rebecca giggled stupidly before leaning back in his arms, enjoying the musky scent of sweat and, oddly, lavender oil on his shoulders before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.