Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold, that when brothers wage war come unfurled! Alduin, bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound, with a hunger to swallow the world!"

Whenever thunder rumbled in the distance, Lucy imagined it was the roar of the long lost dragons, echoing across the aeons.

A raven circled around the halo of the sun, creaking a sorrowful melody. The skies were still bright and blue, but clouds as dark as the blackbird’s wings loomed far in the horizon. It would rain in the evening, Lucy knew, a welcomed chance in the weather. The wells were running dry and the crops had suffered from the long drought, which worried her. A warm summer often meant that the winter would be cold and cruel, as nature always sought for balance.

But tonight, the rains would finally fall over Helgen. Thunder would split the skies and wild winds would wipe the dust out of the streets, cleansing the air that had stood still for too long. While most of the townsfolk always hid indoors when a storm hit, Lucy never did. She loved standing at the porch, watching how the trees bent below the raging skies. As a child, she had been told that the gods were playing their drums of war when it thundered. She never believed that. Instead, to her it was the echo of the ancient dragons, mighty beasts fighting behind the veil of clouds as they did centuries ago, when there were still dragons in Skyrim.

The day was just beginning, but Lucy sensed the change in the atmosphere when she stood at the porch, leaning against the wooden fence. The tension lingered on her skin like an aftershock, exciting but menacing. People walked past the house as they hurried to their daily duties. Loke, a lumberjack’s son ran towards the mill, flashing her a wide smile and waving his hand before disappearing into the crowd. Lucy smiled back at him. She had been told to smile and be kind to everyone, as a good merchant should. That’s how the customers would come.

Lucy turned her eyes from the townsfolk to the sun. She basked in its warmth, storing the light into herself to survive another day indoors. She worked in the store her family had owned for generations, selling trinkets and odds and ends all day long. It wasn’t a life she wanted to live, but as the only child of her family, she had no choice. One day, she’d inherit the store and run it herself, and she dreaded the very thought of that.

Lucy heard her mother’s voice from inside the house. She wasn’t calling for her to come, not yet. A shipment had arrived from Solitude and she was talking about that with Lucy’s father. Something was missing from it, apparently. Ignoring the sounds of a heating argument, Lucy focused on the gentle autumn wind that played with her fair hair, swaying the hem of her yellow dress.

It was Last Seed now, 17^th day, and summer was taking its last breaths. The leaves in birches and alders that framed the cobble-stoned streets were turning red and orange, and such sight filled Lucy’s heart with melancholic hope. It was easier to stay indoors during the winter months, when the hearth kept her warm, and fewer travellers passed by.

Ever since she had been little, she had listened to the travellers’ stories with stars in her eyes. She had heard of magic, of fierce battles steel on steel, of the riches found in the ancient Nordic ruins. She had heard how beautiful the mountains looked at the sunset, how spriggans and wispmothers traversed the misty woods at night, how the old automatons still worked in the depths of the Dwemer ruins. But of all things, it was the sense of freedom that resonated the most with her heart. Those adventurers had no chains around their ankles, and gods, how she envied that.

Lucy closed her eyes for a moment, squeezing her fingers around the fence as she once again felt the weight of the invisible shackle around her own ankle. She was chained to this store, chained to this city where nothing ever happened. For the seventeen years she had lived, she had come to despise a merchant’s life. It was just always the same: smiling at people, counting coins and filling the pages of the sales registry while others wrote the pages of history.

If she had a free choice, she’d rather be an adventurer, one of those who sometimes passed by purchasing goods and exchanging stories of their travels. Unfortunately, she could never be one. Her father had made sure of it. She was to be married off in a few years to some other merchant’s lastborn son, someone who could settle down with her and help with running the store when her parents would retire. Then the invisible shackle would become a golden ring in her finger, one she could never break.

To this day, Lucy had kept drowning herself in books, in tales of the deeds of ancient heroes. Those could never be taken from her. Especially during these times, when Skyrim was on the verge of being plunged into a bloody civil war, she knew she wouldn’t survive without the solace of her dreams. The darker the news of the current events turned, the more books she read, the deeper she delved into the stories until she could forget everything: this world, her fate, even her name.

Lately, more and more soldiers had arrived at her hometown. Helgen was a small, peaceful city near the southern border of Skyrim, but the Imperial Legion had changed that. With growing unrest, Lucy had witnessed the city turning into a base of operations while she barely knew what they were fighting for. Many Nords here opposed the Legion’s presence while some just adjusted to it. Her family was one of those who had chosen to adjust. Siding with the Empire was better for business, they said.

Personally, Lucy didn’t believe it. She had seen how the statues of Talos were torn down, how people were stolen of their faith and freedom. It had been quiet and lazy until last spring when the High King of Skyrim was murdered by a man called Ulfric Stormcloak. The man was raising a rebellion now, and the Imperials told that they had come to secure the common folk’s safety. If that was true, then why didn’t they let people worship the gods they had always believed in? Something was rotten about them. If her life had already been dull and dreadful, this damned war was the final nail to her casket.

And all Lucy could hear from her parents was how the war was bad for business.

She sighed, opening her eyes when she heard some ruckus at the distance. She thought it was the first rumble of thunder, but it wasn’t. The gates were opening on the other side of the city and the crowd had scattered, lining along the streets to welcome the arrivals. The horns sounded three times as Imperial commanders stepped in, guiding a horse-drawn cart along the way. Lucy squinted her eyes to see better in the bright sunlight. The folks hailed, shouting ‘Traitor!’ or ‘Kingslayer!’ as the cart passed by.

When the wagons reached her house, it took a moment for Lucy to understand that it was Ulfric Stormcloak sitting in the cart, bound and gagged. What in the Oblivion had happened, just when the thought of the rebellion had crossed her mind? The wagons were headed towards the plaza near her home. She turned her gaze, seeing how the Legion’s banners were raised to the air. Soldiers brought a wooden block from the storage tower and placed it in the middle of the plaza. And in that instant, Lucy realised that they’d hold an execution here, in the city where nothing ever happened.

Lucy’s eyes caught the sight of some High Elves in golden armour discussing with the commanders. Those were the Thalmor, Lucy knew. She had heard little of them, but their presence here meant something big had truly happened. Somehow, somewhere out there in the fields, the Legion seemed to have captured Ulfric Stormcloak. And now, here and today, they’d bring an end to the bloody war that was tearing Skyrim apart. Those elves didn’t seem to approve it, as if they opposed the execution. Well, only the Thalmor would benefit from brothers and sisters of Skyrim kept tearing each other to pieces.

The cheers caught the attention of Lucy’s parents. Her mother and father stepped to the porch but remained close to the door. She glanced over her shoulder at her mother. Worry crossed the face that looked so much like Lucy’s, but her mother was always the master of concealing her fear. Lucy turned her eyes back to the street. Three carts full of prisoners rode past the house, all of them sentenced to die. Most of them wore the cuirass of the Stormcloak rebels, except for two young men sitting in the last cart.

Those two were mages.

Lucy recognized the sigil of the College of Winterhold in the robes they wore. Some mages had visited their store too, only to get disappointed – but not surprised – when there weren’t spells or enchanted items available for sale. Lucy’s heart wrenched at the fate of those mages. They weren’t rebels. They weren’t supposed to be there.

One of the mages turned his head and glanced straight at Lucy. All the noise around her silenced when she gazed back at those calm, green eyes that seemed to have seen everything, but it was the colour of his hair that mesmerized her. Dark-pink strands framed his face, the same hue as the nightshade flowers that grew in the graveyards. As he noticed her staring back at him, he quickly turned his gaze away. A sudden melancholy flooded into Lucy’s soul as the wagon reached the plaza. The mage had looked young, way too young to die.

When the soldiers forced the prisoners to form lines, mother stepped closer to Lucy. “My dear, you should get inside,” mother said sternly.

Lucy shook her head, unable to turn her gaze from the mages. The other one was a Dark Elf, judging from the grey skin, bright red eyes and sharp elven ears, but Lucy couldn’t tell which race the pink-haired mage was. He was small of build, scrawny and short, possibly a Breton. There was no restlessness in him as he was placed in the line next to his friend as their names were read on a list. He kept staring down, but not a hint of fear crossed his face. He was almost smiling, facing death bravely with no regrets, knowing he had lived a life that was full. And Lucy almost envied that, too. The time she’d lay on her deathbed, all she’d have would be the regret of never actually living while she was still alive.

“No,” Lucy answered to her mother. “I want to see this.”

She had never seen a person die before. She had never even seen a pig butchered, she had only heard the screams. Now, she wanted to see. Perhaps seeing the price for freedom would finally change her mind, make her bury her dreams and kiss them goodbye. Lucy’s mother placed her arm around her back, supporting her decision. Deep down, Lucy knew she understood. Maybe after this, she’d be happy to live her life as a merchant, safe from the dangers outside Helgen’s walls.

However, her father spat over the fence as he glared at the prisoners. A priest of Arkay was giving them their last rites now. “Wonder what those mages from the College did this time,” he growled, ire in his voice as his eyes locked to the pink-haired wizard. Lucy’s father was a typical Nord who distrusted magic and its users, but her mother’s ancestors had been mages. Unfortunately, father’s word weighed more than mother’s, and so magic was a taboo in her household. Perhaps for that reason, it always intrigued her the most. “Destroyed another village, perhaps? It’s good that the Empire is finally taking care of the wizard menace.”

Lucy’s angered gaze shot to her father, but she swallowed a sharp retort. Sometimes, when father turned travelling wizards away from the store, Lucy used to run after them to apologize. She loved discussing with mages, for she had always adored the things magic was capable of doing. For the very same reason, most feared it. But she didn’t. In her most secret dreams, she ran away from this damned down and joined the College of Winterhold. There she could learn magic, wield it as her ancestors did. She never told her parents she dreamt of that instead of giving sons to a man someone else had chosen for her. Father would have her head for just thinking of such blasphemy.

Suddenly, the Dark-Elf mage shouted something over the priest’s last blessing, interrupting the ceremony. Lucy flinched as the moment of tranquillity was shattered. The mages were last in the line, but this changed the minds of the Legionnaires. Soldiers marched to the elf and grabbed him from the shoulders, dragging him to the block. The pink-haired mage who had stood beside flit in rage, all calmness in him gone as he writhed and fought against the soldiers who tried to hold him down.

Lucy raised her hand over her mouth. The soldiers pressed the elven mage to the block when the headsman came. Fully clad in black leather, he lifted his axe high to the sky. The townspeople roared in cheers, but all Lucy could hear was the desperate crying of the other mage who was forced to watch his friend die. And somewhere across the mountains, the thunder rumbled for the first time.

Then, the headsman swung the axe.

All noise was silenced when blood burst from the severed neck. Lucy gasped, holding her breath as her stomach sunk to the bottom of her body. Even the crying mage fell silent, numb as the lonely head rolled down the plaza. Lucy shivered, sickness spreading over her. She wanted to turn her eyes away and bury her face into her mother’s chest, but she couldn’t. She just watched. This was the price of freedom – did she really want to pay it?

The air grew heavy with anticipation and shock. The storm was creeping in faster than it should, but nobody seemed to notice that. This macabre show had stolen away everyone’s attention. The Thalmor on the side of the plaza withdrew into the city keep to continue the negotiations with the commanders. They didn’t even care to be present when the rebellion would be put to the end, not to even talk about respecting the lives that would be taken here today.

Lucy turned her eyes back to the block when the soldiers pulled the headless body away and replaced it with the pink-haired mage. Lucy wanted to scream, make them stop. The mages had nothing to do with the civil war – for whatever reason they had ended up on the block, they should at least be given a fair trial first. If this was the Legion’s sense of justice, Lucy didn’t want to be ruled over by them. Tears flowed down the mage’s cheeks as his neck was pressed into the still-warm blood of his friend. The damn bastards were smiling as they did that.

“A man should face his death with courage, not weeping like a milk-drinker,” father muttered, grimacing mockingly at the mage’s tears. Lucy glared at him again, unable to believe he said that. Tears welled up in her own eyes too, forcing her to look away. She couldn’t show disrespect to her father. Mother rubbed her back, letting her know that she disagreed with him too. There just wasn’t any comfort in it, not now.

Louder than before, thunder rumbled in the distance. It no longer sounded like an upcoming storm, but something else completely. People turned their heads to the skies that were still bright and cloudless. Even the soldiers wondered what was going on, silent questions were whispered in the air, but the general commanded them to continue. The execution was better to get over with before the storm would hit.

The headsman lifted his greataxe again, but this time, Lucy couldn’t watch. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited to hear the same sickening thump of a man’s head dropping to the ground, the swooshing of blood, and the cheers of townspeople to whom this was only macabre entertainment in a town where nothing ever happened.

But then, a deafening roar filled the skies.

Instantly, Lucy’s eyes shot open. Scared out of her wits, she saw how the axe dropped from the headsman’s hands, missing the mage’s head with mere inches. The entire plaza quaked when something landed on top of the watchtower, feeling like one of the moons had fallen down. The excited cheers twisted into frightened screams as the panicked crowd began to disperse. Frozen in place, Lucy slowly moved her gaze from the enormous shadow to the source of it, the creature sitting atop the tower.

“What in the Oblivion is that!?” her father shouted in terror, grabbing his wife and daughter into his arms. Lucy began to tremble as she locked eyes with the black, scaly beast. It spread its wings, covering the entire plaza under a shadow, and then it roared again.

Lucy knew what it was.

It was a dragon.

And with its roar, flames emerged from its mouth, between those fangs as tall as a man. It breathed fire, dragonfire, that flooded over the streets alighting everything and everyone aflame.

 Upon the dragon’s command, the bright skies were turned into a battlefield of stormclouds, shrouding the sun in darkness as if the night had suddenly fallen. Lucy watched as the town was engulfed in flames, how the legionnaires and rebels and common folk turned into living torches all the same.

There was only one thought in Lucy’s mind at the moment.

The dragons weren’t supposed to be real.

Now, they were.

The creature took flight again, each wing strike creating a gust of whirlwind that threw Lucy off her balance. Father tried to grasp her tighter, but she slipped out of his hold and was thrown to the stone wall. They screamed her name, tried to reach for her as her mind began to darken with the skies. Her limbs turned heavy and frozen, she hit her head to the crumbling wall as her parents disappeared to the other side of the debris.

Lucy tried to hold on, tried to awaken from this nightmare, but she couldn’t. Pain overwhelmed her as something tumbled down on top of her, rocks and cracked wood as the dragon slashed its tail at her home. Her vision blurred and the sounds of destruction faded into nothingness, and then everything was black.

“Hey, girl, wake up. Wake up now. We have to get out of here!”

Someone’s voice carried through the darkness as her senses began to awaken. Lucy felt a tight grasp around her wrists, felt herself being pulled out of burning heat. Her heart pounded in a panicked, irregular rhythm, sending waves of pain all over her body. She cracked her eyes open, but she couldn’t see anything else than the faint outlines of the same someone who kept speaking to her with a slow, steady voice of a young man.

“Good, you’re finally awake. Come on. We don’t have much time. We have to find a way out before that thing kills us, too.”

From the black robes and pink hair, Lucy recognized him as one of the prisoners, the one she had exchanged a glance with. His hands were unbound now, and he threw aside the rocks and planks that kept her trapped under the collapsed wall. He tugged hard on her wrists and finally released her below the burning wood, helping her on her feet. The long hem of her yellow dress was now torn. Blood flowed down her bare shins, but she couldn’t see where it was coming from. As if her whole body had been crushed, she couldn’t locate the pain. It was all around her.

“Can you walk?” the mage asked hastily, trying to get contact with her eyes while keeping his head down. Lucy couldn’t look at the man, she just kept staring at the utter devastation behind him. The view from the porch, the one she had been gazing at for her entire life, had turned into a fiery ruin. Flames and black smoke filled the air, heavy with the stench of searing flesh.

And before Lucy could answer, the dragon soared over, the rapid blow of air pushing both of them off their feet.

The mage grasped her as they tumbled to the ruins of the porch, shielding her with his arm and pressing her to the ground until the dragon disappeared behind the walls. It roared, breathing more fire into the ever-burning ruins, but somehow the flames avoided her. No, they avoided the mage. Lucy saw how the flames were repelled from the aura around him, and he had pulled her close within that protective aura. That was the power of magic.

When the dragon had flown to the other district of the town, the mage rose and pulled her back up. Not letting go of her wrist, he dragged her on, slowly at first to see if she could run. She took a few clumsy steps – good, her legs still carried. He walked her down to the street, but then she halted.

“Wait,” she whispered, her voice cracked and dry. “My… my parents, they… I can’t leave them, I must –”

The mage glanced at something behind her, falling silent as if he was apologizing. Lucy’s chest tightened in terror. She thought she’d faint again. What had happened to her parents? She couldn’t hear their voices anymore. Slowly, as if evading the inevitable truth, she turned her head back to the porch. And then, her heart was torn apart by the sight.

Two scorched corpses lay among the flames. Her mother’s skin had turned black, her long fair hair was gone, but she could still recognize her features. Even in death, she held tight on her husband, Lucy’s father, who had burned, melted into something she couldn’t even recognize. With his own body, her father had protected her mother, but it hadn’t been enough. The collapsed stone wall had prevented Lucy from the same fate. Shock and denial taking over her mind, Lucy shook her head. Tears refused to come. She couldn’t cry, for this was only a dream she’d soon wake up.

It just had to be.

“We’ve got to go now,” the mage muttered then. “I’m sorry, but we just have to go.”

Burning hot air got stuck in Lucy’s throat as she struggled for a breath. The black dragon’s roars were getting closer once again, and so the mage set forward, a strong tug on her arm forcing Lucy to tear her eyes away from the corpses. The mage ran across the plaza, agilely jumping over the pieces of broken wagons and burned bodies. Lucy’s numb feet stumbled on them, but the man helped her back up each time she fell.

“You’re from this town, right?” he asked, now shouting to have his voice heard over the ruckus and soaring flames. “You know how to get out? Can’t go back to the north gate, that way’s blocked.”

Lucy wondered how the man could remain so calm in the middle of chaos. She couldn’t think, couldn’t even remember where the gates were anymore, despite having lived in Helgen for her whole life. She just kept shaking her head as the mage dragged her on across the burning town she no longer recognized. The screams were getting quiet as the dragon’s flames claimed more lives. A rain of arrows flew through the air as the soldiers tried to shoot at the dragon, but they bounced back from the impenetrable scales.

How could one even fight such a thing? Despair took over Lucy’s broken heart. What was the point of running away, if the beast would kill them anyway, no matter what they’d do? Would this be the end of her, the end of them all?

But then Lucy glanced into the mage’s eyes. Reflections of fire danced in them, but he didn’t fear it. His gaze kept searching for an escape route, scanning the edges of the plaza, trying to see through the smoke and flames. But above all, there was determination in his eyes. Lucy knew he would walk through the fire if he must. He might’ve just lost a friend and barely escaped death himself, but it didn’t paralyze him. Instead, it pushed him forward, empowered him as if nothing in the world would stop him from living. Not even a dragon.

And it seemed he had decided that she would survive with him.

The dragon flew through the black smoke, landing once more atop the watchtower. At that moment, Lucy saw a crevice in the city wall on the other side of the plaza. It wasn’t too far away, but how could they get through the shelterless opening? A young kid, the baker’s son was running aimlessly around the destruction. He was shouting after his mother, looking through the corpses without knowing he’d join her in death soon enough. The mage halted, forcing Lucy to stop as well. The dragon aimed its breath at the boy, and then the child disappeared into raging flames.

Lucy’s legs refused to carry her any further as the dragon rose on its wings again, covering them under its unbound shadow. She wanted to fall and surrender to the mercy of the flames, but the mage didn’t let her. He saw the spot where the wall had collapsed. That would be their way out, and the dragon saw it too. Straight from the prophecies of the end times, it had come here today, brought by fate to destroy everything.

The dragon landed on the plaza. The ground quaked from the impact and cobbled stones of the streets flew through the air. With its tail, it swiped down a line of soldiers that had kept shooting at it with their bows. The strike cut the armoured man in half. It was close enough to do the same to Lucy if they’d try to escape through the wall. Lucy glanced at the mage again, but the determination in his eyes hadn’t gone anywhere.

“You see that crack in the city wall?” he asked quietly. Lucy nodded, her head pounding in pain. “When I say so, run across the plaza and jump through.”

Lucy couldn’t understand what he was talking about. “But what –”

“Just do that, okay?”

The mage released his hold around her wrists and stepped in front of her. The flames truly avoided him, as if a protective ward was cast around his body. Staying in the shelter of his magic, Lucy stared at the dragon as it killed the last soldiers. Just what did the mage intend to do? Distract its attention or even attack the dragon?

Then, the mage enveloped his hands in flames.

He didn’t gather the fire from the surroundings, he cast it himself from his own magic. Lucy’s eyes widened as the man held the flames in his fingers and it didn’t burn him. He brought his hands together, stoking the fire until it formed into a ball of explosive energy. Then he aimed, locking eyes with the dragon, and threw the fireball at the dragon with all of his force.

“Now!”

The pressure wave of the explosion pushed her forward. A blinding cloud of dust and smoke shrouded the dragon’s sight for just a second, but it was enough for them to run. As fast as they could, Lucy and the mage reached the wall and jumped through the hole. What a wonderful strike of luck it was that her house was located near the outer walls of the city, but that wasn’t enough. They weren’t safe yet. The mage helped her back up, caught her hand again, and then they kept running.

Lucy heard how the screams from the town silenced, how the dragon’s roars grew more distant the further they ran into the western forest of Helgen. The screams went fully quiet sooner than the roars, as they seemed to echo through the skies no matter how far they got. The scrubs and branches tore more cuts to her bare shins, but she no longer felt the pain. Her mind went blankly white as she fought for survival.

They didn’t stop running until they were in the depths of the forest, and could no longer see the city burning behind them. The mage collapsed between large, mossy rocks, pulling her into their shelter with his last strength. Panting heavily, Lucy rested her back against the boulder and closed her eyes. She couldn’t see anything but the memory of her parents scorched to death. Still, she waited for this nightmare to end, for her to wake in her bed again with a relieving realization that it had been just a terrible, terrible dream.

The longer she waited, the more she understood that it was not a dream.

Her whole world had come burning down in a blink of an eye, and no, it was not a nightmare.

A powerful sob shook her once. She tried to hold back the tears, suffocate the weeping, but now she couldn’t. She turned her glossy eyes to the mage sitting beside her. The young man stared into nothingness in a catatonic state, and somehow, Lucy found comfort in that. She wasn’t alone in this chaos, alone in this pain. This mage had rescued her, given her a chance to survive, live, for she would’ve died without his help. Even if the immeasurable loss was tearing her apart, she felt glad she was still breathing.

And she wanted to thank him for it.

“Hey…” Lucy started, but the mage silenced her by bringing his finger to his lips. Understanding that they had to remain quiet and hide until the dragon would be surely gone, she lowered her voice into a whisper. “What’s… what’s your name?”

In silence, the mage kept staring at the tree stump in front of him. Lucy just wanted to know his name, that was all, but she prepared herself to accept that he might not want to tell it. He had almost got executed. His name was on the death list of the Legionnaires, after all.

But then, he turned towards her and whispered, “I’m Natsu, of Dragonbridge.”

Lucy studied his blood-stained robes with her gaze. He truly wore the sigil of the Mage’s College of Winterhold, that she hadn’t mistaken of.

“Thank you, Natsu,” Lucy said silently, lifting her eyes from the sigil to his. She tried to force a smile, but failed. Only tears poured down her face like an endless stream, making the mage turn his gaze away.

For all her life, she had dreamt of an escape. She had dreamt of running away from that damned town, adventuring all around Skyrim, delving into the lost secrets of magic, and now her dreams had come true in the most terrifying way. A dragon had broken her chains, a creature that wasn’t even supposed to exist. Lucy looked down at her bleeding legs. Perhaps for the first time, she no longer felt the weight of the invisible shackle around her ankle.

As she wept, one thought came clear in the chaos of her mind. Freedom had once been all she had longed for, and now she had nothing left but freedom. And as her previous life lay in ashes, she was free to choose a new one.

Just like the mage had decided he would survive, she had to make the decision, too.

Lucy wiped the tears from her eyes, glancing at the sigil of the College again. She assumed the mage would get back there from now. She couldn’t let this chance pass by her. She had always dreamt of joining the College of Winterhold, and now it was finally possible. Lucy gathered all of her courage, prepared a question that would entirely change the direction of her life.

“I… I have no place to go now,” she started, catching the mage’s attention. “Could I… Could I come with you to the College?”

Something which faintly resembled a smile flashed on his face before it was gone, but it was enough to spark hope in the ruins of Lucy’s heart.

“Yeah, of… of course,” he answered quietly and nodded. “I… I think I had you figured for a mage.”

For a brief moment, Lucy smiled through her tears. She couldn’t describe how much it mattered to her to hear those words right now, when everything else in her life was gone. This mage had seen the remnants of magic in her, and in that she placed her hope. Maybe, just maybe something new would rise from the ashes of the old, for an end was always also a beginning.

 The Map of Skyrim. Helgen, the story's starting location is in the south.

Dragon attacking Helgen