Murphy's Law

Chapter 5

Lucy fought back a giggle as Emmet dropped himself down on the opposite side of the table. He must have gone to bed with his hair still wet, the way it was sticking up in every direction. He looked utterly exhausted, though, which had her concerned. "Rough night?"

He shrank in on himself. "So much happened yesterday, my mind wouldn't quiet enough for me to sleep..."

Lucy could commiserate. She reached across the table, gently squeezing his forearm. "You get used to it," she told him. "Do you want to stay a while longer, try to get some more sleep?"

"No," he sighed. "I'm already up, might as well keep going."

"Alright, then. We'll head out as soon as you're ready."

"How is your arm?"

She smiled at his concern. "Doing much better, thank you. That paste we put on it yesterday is a concentrated healing potion, a good friend of mine figured out how to make it. It's more effective for healing deep cuts like that than just drinking a regular potion." She held her arm out, unwrapping the linen bandages from it; all that was left was a fresh red scar where the cut had been. Emmet's eyes went wide.

"Wow, that's amazing!" He paused as a thought occurred to him. "You must get hurt a lot..."

Lucy shrugged. "It happens, especially when you're fighting a war. I'm pretty well used to it by now."

"You shouldn't have to be. You're too nice to keep having to get hurt like that," he blurted out, then turned red at the look she gave him.

"That's sweet of you to say," she said after a moment. "If you're done eating, we should get moving. I can't imagine the Jarl or that Farengar fellow will be happy to be kept waiting for too much longer."

"Right." Emmet practically inhaled the rest of his breakfast. Lucy shook her head. She took a moment to shoulder her pack, and then they were off. They stopped at the trader's to return the claw- a well-loved family heirloom, apparently, and the shopkeeper rewarded them with a hefty sack of gold coin. Lucy wordlessly handed it to Emmet. "You'll need it to get yourself a house," was all she told him when he gave her a surprised look.

They were almost to Whiterun when Lucy paused, noticing a column of smoke not far in the distance. It looked like the nearby watchtower was on fire. "Oh no," Emmet gasped when he spotted it. "What do you think happened? Bandits couldn't cause that much damage, could they?"

"Not likely," Lucy murmured in response. They both froze at the familiar roar that echoed across the skies. "But a dragon sure can! Come on, we have to help!"

"But-!" Emmet tried to protest, but Lucy had already taken off down the path at a full sprint. With a whine he followed as quickly as he could manage, catching up to her where she'd paused at an outcropping of rocks.

"Wait here," she instructed. "I see Irileth and some of the city guards, they seem to have it pretty well distracted so you should be fine, but try to stay out of sight anyway." Emmet nodded, hugging the Dragonstone close as Lucy drew her bow and ran off to join the fight. He peeked around the outcropping; it was hard to see much, with all the smoke, but from what he could see, it looked like a nasty fight. The dragon grabbed one of the guards, shaking its head like a dog with a chew toy before flinging the dead guard away. It seemed to be grounded, not even attempting to take off, so Lucy put her bow away and drew her blades.

"No!" Emmet shouted as she ran straight for it, leaping up onto its snout as it snapped at her and driving a sword into one of its eyes. It shrieked in pain and rage, shaking its head in attempt to dislodge the blade. Lucy grabbed onto one of its horns, holding on for dear life to keep from being thrown. She readied her other sword, plunging it into the dragon's spine the moment she had the opportunity. It collapsed and convulsed for a moment before falling utterly still. The surviving guards came in close, staring at it in awe.

It was dead.

Emmet warily crept closer, unable to take his eyes off its still form. "You actually killed it," he murmured in awe. Lucy dropped down at his side, panting harshly.

"I think that was the most terrifying thing I've ever done."

"I think that's the most terrifying thing I've ever seen anyone do, but it was awesome!" He scooted closer, poking at its scaly hide. Several of the guards shouted and they all leapt back as it suddenly burst into white flame, the fire rising up and then rushing toward Emmet.

"Look out!" Lucy screamed, but he appeared unharmed. He simply stood there, blinking in shock.

"What in the world," Irileth muttered.

"I can't believe it," one of the guards murmured in awe. "You're Dragonborn."

Lucy looked up sharply at that. "What?"

"What?" Emmet echoed. "What's Dragonborn?"

"In the very oldest tales, back when there were still dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power. That's what you did, isn't it? Absorbed the dragon's power?"

"I..." Emmet chewed on his lip, looking back at the skeleton that was all that was left of the dragon. "I don't know what happened."

"Try Shouting, that would prove it for sure."

As the guard said 'Shout', it was as if something clicked in Emmet's mind. The glowing word from the wall- it was like he had an altogether different understanding of it now. He took a deep breath, and yelled, "Fus!" The guards standing in front of him nearly toppled over. Emmet gasped, grabbing one of them and helping him steady himself, apologizing profusely.

"By the Divines, lad, don't be sorry!" the guard laughed. "That was amazing." As the guards began to converse amongst themselves, Lucy got back to her feet and reached for Emmet's wrist, squeezing gently. He turned his attention toward her; she had a strange look on her face.

"Come on," she said quietly. "We still have to get the Dragonstone to Farengar."

"Oh." Emmet nodded. He'd almost forgotten he was even holding it. As they made their way back to the city, the sky seemed to thunder, and several voices spoke in unison.

"Dovahkiin!"

"What was that?!" Emmet gasped, staring wide-eyed up at the sky.

"I don't know," Lucy admitted. "It... sounded almost like a summons."

"What's 'Dovahkiin'?"

Lucy gave him an odd look. "So you can read the dragon language, but you can't understand it when it's spoken? Interesting." Emmet pouted at her. "It means 'Dragonborn'."

Emmet's eyes went wide. "Were they- were they calling for me?"

"You're the Dragonborn, aren't you?" she teased. "But that's not a summons I would answer until I knew who was summoning me."

"Maybe Jarl Balgruuf will know?"

"It can't hurt to ask." They hurried on to Dragonsreach.