~Chapter 1~

Solitude. It was a word laden with meaning. To most in the robust land of Skyrim, it was the name of the capital city of their land and the home base of the Imperial Legion. However, to one man, it was his eternal condition, and as he sat at a rickety old table in The Winking Skeever, he clutched a piece of paper in his armor-clad hand. His heart burst with anticipation as he stared down at it. He couldn’t wait to meet her at long last. He’d journeyed far and wide for the opportunity to join her in her battle against the evil dragons that had begun to terrorize the land and its citizenry. In her, he saw the promise of tomorrow for the people, a promise of survival and prosperity. More than that, despite never actually meeting her, he felt a kindred spirit as he heard the tales of her bravery and kindness. Like him, she helped all those in need and worked tirelessly to rescue those in trouble. Also like him, she traveled alone. He wondered if the loneliness weighed on her as much as it did him. He imagined it did, but whether she’d chosen her life the way she had in the name of valor or because it was merely her fate as a Dragonborn was intriguing to him, and he hoped with all his might that she would accept his offer so he could find out.

“Another one, Casavir?” the gruff bartender asked, scratching his mustache.

“No, sir. I believe I’ve had enough,” the man replied, cupping his hand over his mug of recently consumed water. His voice was so smooth and deep, it was like verbal silk caressing the air. As he stood up, the pieces of his silver armor clacked against each other, joining the chorus of sounds pervading the inn by the bard’s lute and the chattering patrons. He’d enjoyed the bard’s songs all evening, for they had taught him much about the culture and people of Skyrim, but it was time for him to retire to his chambers he had rented there. The Dragonborn would be in the city the next day and he didn’t want his crisp, sea-blue eyes to look like a raccoon’s due to exhaustion. After all, he needed to be at his best. She deserved no less.

The next morning, he outfitted himself with his finest silver armor. He affixed his gauntlets, his platemail, his greaves, and his boots with such deft skill and speed, it was like watching a ballet. It was rhythmic and graceful. His athleticism from decades of fighting and his training as a Paladin couldn’t have been more evident. As he stood in front of the full-length mirror in his chambers to give himself a once over, his thick, vivacious lips curved into a small smile at the insignia engraved into the chest of his platemail. He still recalled the joyous day it had been presented to him. It was the day he’d graduated from his training, and the insignia of curling spirals pressed together like the wings of an angel represented his commitment to his cause of spreading goodness and peace. Unfortunately, he knew the steep price that came with it. As noble and just as his cause was, the price for such lofty ideals were the vows of chastity and purity. To be sure, he’d never regretted making such promises, but it didn’t mean he was never piqued by curiosity. Still, he thanked his lucky stars and the Gods on High that a woman had never tortured his being enough for him to want to break them. He’d met many a fine lass on his travels, but none were sufficiently enticing to churn his core or make his heart thud like the stampede of a thousand horses. In that, he took much solace and comfort, for he couldn’t fathom the anguish that could result from the alternative.

Turning around, he stopped by the end table beside the door before departing for the plaza outside. There, he picked up the piece of paper he’d held the previous night. It was an invitation to the Grand Crystal Ball. He was told it was the event of the season and he couldn’t have felt more blessed that his connections within his Order had managed to procure for him an invitation to it. He hoped that the Dragonborn would accompany him as his guest. It wouldn’t be romantic in nature, of course. He thought her prowess in navigating Skyrim’s social scene would be a boon to him and he wished to make a good impression on the people. Skyrim was his fresh start, a reprieve from the horrors that haunted his past in his homeland. It was a past he was determined to put behind him and he wanted to do nothing to jeopardize his position there. Closing his eyes, he vigorously prayed that the Dragonborn would agree to his invitation and his presence by her side to slay the dragons. He finished it with an intonation of the names of all the Gods before reopening his eyes. He then laid his lips on the paper to give it a soft kiss for luck and neatly laid it in his satchel. She will accept, he thought willfully. She must.

Several hours later, he stood at the ready in the middle of the plaza. The high stone walls of the city cast a shadow over him as the sunlight slowly descended into the horizon. Still, there had been no sign of the Dragonborn. He’d waited patiently all day, but even his normally stoic temperament was beginning to wear thin. His Order connections had informed him she’d be there because of business she had with the Imperial Legion, and his connections were never wrong. Feeling a wave of fear shoot through him, he wondered if perhaps she’d finally met a beast she couldn’t conquer on her way there. The idea of her lying dead on the side of a road or in a ravine made his mouth go dry and his forehead begin to perspire. No Casavir, he calmed himself. You are being ridiculous. Her strength and power were literally the stuff of legend. Surely if dragons could not take her from this world, there could be nothing else that could perform the same tragedy. As he let out another sigh, he eyed the gate, urging it to open. Then, a second later, the doors parted, revealing a crème-white steed and a woman sitting atop it. She was well-built and curvaceous in all the right places. Her long, chocolate-brown hair draped her shoulders and her heart-shaped face framed her finely sculpted lips and nose. But, it was her cobalt-blue eyes that captivated him like no other. Swimming with strength and profundity, they summoned within him the same pleasure he’d received as a boy when reading about the marvels of the universe. With her silver armor and buckles that glistened in the orange hues coming from the setting sun, she looked like a radiant angel. In sum, she was beautiful, enchanting, and perfect. She must be the Dragonborn, he thought, feeling his knees go limp. Only a creature as divinely made as her could be the Hero of Skyrim. If she wasn’t, he couldn’t imagine who else could possibly surpass her magnificence. Taking a gulp and a deep breath, Casavir steadied himself before approaching. He set one foot in front of the other, never allowing his eyes to leave hers when out of nowhere, he spotted something shifting around behind her. Stopping in his tracks, he looked around her to see what it was. Suddenly, like a devil on her shoulder, a familiar face appeared. He had the grin of a demon and the amber eyes of a predator. Bearing the tips of his canines, the man’s lips couldn’t have been closer to the Dragonborn’s neck if he was a vampire about to devour his next meal. By the Gods, Casavir thought, appalled. What in Tamriel was he doing there? He’d never thought he’d come across Bishop there and had hoped he’d never have to lay eyes on him ever again. Worse, he never thought the Dragonborn herself would be with him. It was beyond him what possible affairs she’d have with him. It was then he knew he was correct in his original fear. She had indeed met a beast she couldn’t handle. Bishop was a disgraceful being and the type of animal parents warned their children about. Regardless of why the Dragonborn was with him, he knew Bishop could not be trusted and he would see to her safety – even if it cost him his life. Don’t worry, my Lady, he thought confidently, resuming his steps towards her. No harm will come to you. Not if I can help it.