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Chapter Text

"WULD NAH KEST!"

Divines, he loved being the Dragonborn. Scattered-Leaves felt a wave of adrenaline as his body was propelled across the plains of Whiterun. And how could he not want to have a little fun? He was fresh out of real danger to kill.

Yes, the Dragonborn had fulfilled his part in an ancient prophecy, slaying the dragon Alduin in Sovengarde. While he had a feeling it wasn't the end, he could rest easy for once. The remaining dov had slowly begun to veer towards Paarthurnax's reign, and those who were still too stubborn or chose to reject the moment of peace?

Well, let's just say Leaves wasn't complaining. It just meant he got to keep the blood pumping. That wasn't all of course. He had found more adventures well past the defeat of Alduin. A proposal to join a legion of vampire hunters somehow spiraled into him somehow killing a vampire lord, and an ambush by two masked men ended in him killing one of the oldest Dragonborn in existence to protect the people of a distant land. And he came back even stronger than he could have ever imagined. It was hard to believe that once upon a time, he had been a nobody with no future and no aspirations, being led to the chopping block.

Leaves found perch on a nearby ledge, breathing in the clean air of Skyrim. With most of the bigger threats of the present eliminated, he had a lot of free time. For the most part, he was taking odd jobs, not for the pay, but for the sake of it. Hell, the treasure in the dark caves he was diving into was usually twice as valuable compared to the measly spot of gold he was getting in return. Maybe he could settle down and start a family, but he was still young, so maybe later.

Perhaps he'd just keep messing with his Shouts. He's learned dozens over time, but rarely used most of them. After all, he'd gained a lot of free time.

As he tore through the woods, however, he felt an odd chill and paused, looking around. Leaves walked in a small circle and winced as the sudden cold hit him again. He stepped away from the cold spot and was astonished to see the air in front of him wobbling and contorting slightly. It reminded him vaguely of that odd spot on the Throat of the World, where he had read that Elder Scroll to learn an ancient Shout. Was this another one of those odd rifts? He looked around. It was just him there.

Without another moment of hesitation, Leaves pulled out the Elder Scroll. He always felt like he needed to keep it for some reason and now he understood why. He pulled the parchment open and felt his eyes strain as the indecipherable text became somewhat legible. Then the light grew stronger. "Oh sweet Hist sap-"

That was all Leaves could muster before nearly being blinded by a sudden burst of light and deafened by a loud cracking noise, like the earth itself being torn apart. He had squeezed his eyes shut in pain, but when he opened them, he found the scroll on the ground and the rift gone. Well that was pointless. He picked the scroll up and started making his way through the woods. He could stop in Riverwood for a while. He needed the supplies.

A sum of gold evicted from his pockets as Scattered-Leaves paid for a few potions. He hummed as he tried to decide on what to do. He decided maybe heading on over to Dragonsreach would be a good idea. Maybe a bounty would suffice for the time being. The pay was pretty lousy but he was bored. As he admired the nature around him on his way to the city, Scattered-Leaves reminisced about his journey towards Alduin's defeat. While he wasn't entirely sure when Alduin would return, given his soul had escaped being absorbed, Leaves knew he couldn't let his guard down. For all he knew, he'd see the big black bastard again tomorrow. But thankfully it's not like things could get any weirder.

"Sir, you need to calm down and listen to me-"

"Zu'u fen ag hi! Get away from me!"

Nevermind.

Following the source of the racket, Scattered-Leaves was treated to a most intriguing sight. By the Western Watchtower was a group of guards, trying to calm someone down. That someone was an Argonian with rather unusual horns. The man seemed to be hiding behind some of the rubble left on the ground, hissong at some guardsmen. Even from here and behind the fallen stone, Leaves could tell the Argonian wasn't wearing anything. Probably a skooma addict.

As he made his way over, the guards instantly addressed him. "Dragonborn! What brings you here?" "Noticed you're having a bit of trouble", Leaves responded. "What's going on?" "Public indecency", one guard responded. "This Argonian was spotted running around with nary a cloth in sight. We were about to haul him off and get some pants for him. But he's not making it easy."

Scattered-Leaves ended up locking eyes with the nude stranger, who seemed to immediately recognize him. Well, maybe he'd listen to the hero of Nirn. "I'll handle it. You boys can go." "Go ahead, Dragonborn." The guards took off back to Whiterun and Scattered-Leaves was left with the man. He checked his bag and was relieved that he had a leftover robe the other could wear. Now, convincing the other to wear it may be a little difficult-

"Dovahkiin. You are worth speaking to."

... nevermind. "You really do need to put a robe on, sir", Scattered-Leaves said, holding out the folded blue robe. "I don't know if it's normal where you're from, but it sure isn't out here in Skyrim." The Argonian huffed. "You do not recognize me in this form. I see." "Okay, you're either on skooma or you're messing with me", Scattered-Leaves grumbled, shoving the robe in the other's hands. "Now put this on already. It's awkward looking at you."

The strange Argonian laughed coldly. "So you do not recall our grand battle at this very spire, where you struck my body down and claimed my soul as yours? You wound me, Dovahkiin."

"What are you-"

Scattered-Leaves paused. He only fought one thing here, at the wreckage of the Western Watchtower. But that was impossible. There's no way. "You... You're the dragon? Is that what you're saying?" "I am Mir-Mul-Nir", the 'Argonian' responded. And in hindsight, his accent and tone wasn't too different from most dragons. "I must admit, I was surprised to find another of Dov blood running amok. But you earned your victory quite fairly, little joor. Well done."

Damn it, he really was a dragon, if all the damn dovahzul sprinkled in the mix of common tongue was any indication. "Wait, but then why are you an Argonian?", Leaves asked. "Scratch that, how are you alive at all??? I absorbed your soul!" "That I do not know myself", Mirmulnir mused. "And here I was, foolish to believe you would know too." Leaves sighed. Well, at least this would keep him busy. "We need to figure this out. But first let's get you situated. Put that on. Clothes are essential from here on out."

Mirmulnir paused and looked at the robe. He held it out, letting it unfold. His stare made it obvious he had no idea what he was doing. Scattered-Leaves groaned. This was going to be the most obnoxious day of his life, wasn't it?

Chapter Text

It had taken almost ten minutes just to get Mirmulnir to put the damn robe on, a chore both because the former dragon kept protesting and because the horns on his head were more in line with how a dragon's would look rather than an Argonian's, which is to say they were jagged and numerous, with tiny spikes around the bigger horns.

Traveling with a former dragon was going to be mentally exhausting, but it was either that or leave Mirmulnir to his own devices, which had the potential to go very wrong, very fast. As such, Leaves simply led him to Whiterun, in hopes of getting the dragon a quick bite and maybe a bit more information before doing anything else. As the two sat on the corner of the main street, a few feet from the Bannered Mare, Leaves couldn't help but look over Mirmulnir as the former dragon pulled at a piece of grilled mutton with his teeth. The main question was how this happened, but Leaves genuinely couldn't figure it out. He understood a few things, like maybe whatever made him an Argonian did so because both had scales. But other than that, it seemed just really odd.

On top of that, it was pretty obvious Mirmulnir was not able to care for himself in this state. While the dragon could definitely hunt and find shelter, he clearly had no idea how to be civilized. By Oblivion, Scattered-Leaves himself had to dress Mirmulnir because he didn't understand how clothes worked or why he needed them. And now they were in the middle of a city, where plenty could go wrong. Well, it's not like it could get any worse.

So far, it was clear the former dragon had no idea how society worked and disliked the concept of paying for food. The only reason he did so was to not attract any ire from the man who killed him once when he was in a stronger form and stole his soul. The duo eventually found themselves sitting under the Gildergreen, Mirmulnir sighing.

"Ahrolsedovah is even more of a bore than I remember. You call this a city, Dovahkiin?" "Yeah, yeah, I get it, you don't want to be here." Leaves rolled his eyes. "You can at least pretend, you know." Mirmulnir ignored him. Leaves just groaned quietly. Whatever. He didn't mind the peace and quiet. But just as he was about to ask more questions about how Mirmulnir got this way, Leaves felt a hand on his shoulder. He saw yellow out of the corner of his eyes and realized he'd been approached by a city guard.

"You the one they call Dragonborn?", the guard asked, voice low and sounding like he didn't get paid enough. "Is there a problem, officer", Leaves asked, crossing a leg. He severely hoped this wasn't a 'Skyrim was for the Nords' type of oaf because those were always the worst. But thankfully, it wasn't prejudice this time. "Well... Bit tough to explain, Dragonborn", the man replied. "One of your kind ended up in the keep's dungeon for... Public indecency. Said he wanted to talk to you. Asked for you personally by name. Claimed you were an old friend."

Public Decency. One of his kind. Old friend?

"...Does this fellow have a name?", Leaves asked. The guard paused. "Uh..., don't know if I'm pronouncing it right, but it's..."

"Dovahkiin."

"You."

Leaves couldn't bloody believe it. He wasn't shocked that he was staring at a half nude Argonian, no. Mirmulnir shocked him enough. But now there were TWO dragons that had been turned into Argonians.

"Odahviing!", Mirmulnir greeted, standing close to Leaves. "I see you have also become an unwilling victim in this... dilemma."

"Geh, Mirmulnir. And quite a surprise to see you at all. Did you not meet your end at the hands of our Dovahkiin?" Leaves snapped his fingers. "Hey, focus, you lot." He turned to Odahviing. "Look, I don't know why this is happening to you guys", he admitted. "But something tells me you may not be the only ones afflicted. I can free you from this, but you got a out clothes on."

Odahviing sneered. "Bah!", he grunted. "To think I must suffer a second humiliation at the whims of you joors. But very well, Dovahkiin. I will accept this deal. For now..." Leaves nodded. "...How much is your bail?" "I believe my jailor set it at 20,000." Leaves felt his eye twitch. "...Why?" "I...awoke in the Jarl's quarters. And they assumed I was an assailant." Leaves groaned.