Chapter Text
“I’ve put up with your shit for the last time!”
The words echoed in Sissel’s mind as it tried to pull itself out of the fog. Why did that voice sound familiar? Why was he angry with her? What had she done wrong? For what felt like the longest time, it was her only memory.
Until her head and face became scorched with pain; the stinging sensations shaped vaguely like palms and fists. This clue got the gears turning in her head, and all the pieces clicked back into place. He had beaten her. Her father had beaten her. Her father had beaten her for not completing chores he didn’t remember were assigned to Britte. And her sister lingered in the background, smiling at the fact Sissel took the fall yet again. Smiling that it was Sissel getting beat and not herself.
With the memories flooding back to her, the rest of her aches and pains returned as well. They were all over her body. But nothing burned worse than her face. That was the last strike she remembered, the hardest of them all...it must’ve knocked her out. Who knew what was happening to her now. Maybe she was dead. Maybe she was just lying on the floor now, completely abandoned by both father and sister. Her eyes hurt too much for her to check; so, the lids remained closed and Sissel remained in darkness.
Her other senses worked to make up for the loss, though. While her skin stung from everything her father put her through, it also had a distinct...chill to it. Fire and ice seemed to be dueling against her body, and it was something she never felt before. Out of curiosity, Sissel stuck her tongue out. It immediately started to freeze, and she quickly slipped it back in within the warmth of her mouth.
This had to mean she was outside, right? She was left outside in the freezing night to die. Or maybe they already thought her to be dead and disposed of her; preferring to leave her to the animals than to have a proper burial. Then again, a proper burial would mean admitting she died, and everyone knew of the abuse. They’d know right away how it happened and who did it; and maybe, for once, they’d do something other than talk about it. Jouane certainly would. It would look better for her family if they claimed she ran out and got herself killed by the elements. After all, it seemed like the cold was going to get to her soon. Without the strength to pull herself up to find shelter, Sissel was basically a goner.
She felt the stinging around her eyes increase, and something trail down her face. She was crying, and her salty tears were just going to make everything worse. Her nose involuntarily sniffed, although she couldn’t pick up anything. Either it was broken, or it was beginning to get clogged. Just another sense cut off from her. Now she was down to three.
Speaking of - while her nose had failed her, Sissel’s ears were beginning to take note of something. Something was shuffling close by. It disturbed the ground below it, even sending vibrations that slightly shook Sissel. She heard it step closer; definitely something massive. How lucky for her father - some monster was going to do a thorough disposal of her body, and no one would ever get the chance to see her bruises and make guesses.
Her fears were further realized as an exhale close to her body heated her up. It was like a summer breeze; which actually felt nice right now, despite the circumstances. Whatever it was, it could probably swallow her whole without needing to bother with chewing. And Sissel - despite her age - found herself pondering whether that would be better or worse. What did she prefer: being shredded apart by teeth, or slowly breaking down inside the beast? Suddenly, a father’s beating was beginning to look merciful…
No. She was not going to believe that now. He was further from being a saint than even the Daedra. Jouane taught her better than this. And she was a Nord- a Nord of Skyrim. She would face her fate unshaken and with pride.
It was with this determination that her eyes started to peel themselves open. Her father and sister may never get to witness this - her last defiance against death - and may live their whole lives out believing her to be a coward. But this was no longer about familial approval or absent love. This was for herself. This was her final stand against unfair circumstances. This creature may end up with a full belly, but it would never get the satisfaction of weak prey. Never again.
And as her eyes recovered from blurriness, a looming figure grew closer. It was white and gray, with dull eyes meeting her own. The clearer her vision became, the more detail she could pick out. It was scaled, had wings, and definitely looked ancient. Of all the things that could’ve come across her, it had to be a dragon…
Although, as she squinted upwards, she found that the dragon wasn’t the only thing she could see. Above them both was the night sky - clear and vibrant with streaking colors. And just behind the dragon, Sissel could just vaguely make out rock and stone. She was outside, but nothing was familiar to her. How far did her family - or even this dragon - take her away from Rorikstead?
Her inner questions were interrupted by another puff of warm breath hitting her skin. Then, the maw of the beast opened.
“Drem Yol Lok.” The voice reverberated in Sissel’s head louder than the last words her father said to her. “Greetings, kiir. I am Paarthurnax. You are unlike most wundunik I receive. How did you arrive here, and why?”
Sissel gaped for a few moments, processing the direction this night had gone. After blinking a few times, she attempted to give the dragon as much of an answer as she could. However, her throat burned as soon as she tried. Her voice was instantly cut off with a wheeze and choking, with not a single word successfully being formed.
Paarthurnax tilted his head. “Hi ahraan. You are greatly injured. My strunmah is harsh, even towards the healthiest of joor. Kos drem, kiir.”
He proceeded to furl his wings around the area Sissel laid upon. Much of the chill ceased immediately, and she felt heat surround her in its place. The dragon drew his head closer.
“That should be a start. Yet there is still more to do. Zu’u aak. I cannot heal you, but there is another way. Dreh hi mindoraan? Do you understand?”
Mustering up all the strength she could, Sissel winced through a painful nod.
“Pruzah. You will not need to move or speak for this. Nunon morah - only concentrate. Dreh hi mindoraan?”
Sissel only tilted her head slightly, which was as close enough to a nod for him.
“You seem to be picking up on the meanings of dov tinvaak - the language of the Dov. There is one more I shall teach you. Feim - ‘fade’ in your tongue. Mortals have a greater affinity for this word than the Dov. Everything mortal fades away in time, but the spirit remains. This should be easy for you.
“Ponder the meaning of spirit. Unslaad zii. Where mortal flesh may wither and die, the spirit endures. That is Feim; let that meaning fill you. Su'um ahrk morah - breathe and focus. You will find that your spirit will give you more strength.”
Sissel took in all that Paarthurnax said and closed her eyes. She focused on a steady rhythm of breathing. Inhale...hold...exhale...hold. Count to five, hold for five, count to five, hold for five. In the back of her mind, she cycled through various words. Mortal. Spirit. Wither. Strength. Fade. Feim.
There was a point where she wondered if this was what wise meditation was like. Was she doing it right? She didn’t feel any smarter or wiser. How was she going to tell it was working?
Her face wrinkled as she caught her scattered thoughts. Focus - she had to stay focused. Getting distracted wouldn’t help at all. She was already taking so much time. And Paarthurnax said this one was easy…
“Of course you’d find a way to screw this up.” Sissel could already hear Britte saying. “ You're not special - you’re a failure. I would’ve had this done by now.”
In Sissel’s defense, she had yet to see Britte cross paths with a dragon and end up meditating with it. And she was the one Jouane approached, claiming she had magical talent. She was the one learning how to breathe underwater.
“Now, clear your mind and breathe deeply. Good concentration is very important for spellcasting.”
That was what Jouane had taught her. That had to be the trick to it, then. The dragon had no healing spell, but he still knew how to teach it. Feim had to be just like every other incantation she’s read about, only ancient and...for dragons. Which she was not. She was a mortal; a Nord; and…
“They've grown, all right - lazier and more stupid.” It’s what she heard her father say.
“Yes, and just like weeds, they're nothin' but trouble.” He would say it every time he spoke to someone.
“Do yourself a favor and don't have children; they're good for nothing at all.” To their neighbors, to travelers…
“Curse my good-for-nothing daughters! My wife is twice the woman they will ever grow up to be. She gave her life birthing them. What a waste.” And he…
“I have done nothing but slave away in the fields every day since the day you were born! And what have you done since then?! Whine!” Pain-
“Cry!” Pain-
“Sleep!” Please-
“Eat!” No...
“And nothing else!” Stop!
“You have taken my food-” …
“My rooms-” …
“My >wife<!” . . .
“And now...I’ve put up with your shit for the last time!”
Sissel’s head throbbed again. Her hand went to clutch it, only for the movement to cause the aching to return. She groaned, inflaming her throat as a result. Her eyes stung with new tears, which burned the skin on her face again. Her hair blew back when a gust of hot air hit her again. She disappointed him; she had to have disappointed him. She could never do one simple task; not even to save her life, not even to please a dragon.
“Hi los folook. You are tormented. Faas, paak. It holds you back.” Paarthurnax stared down at her, studying her.
Sissel looked up to him with pleading eyes - pleading for forgiveness, for assistance, for mercy.
He only tilted his head. “There is only so much I can do. Dii suleyk aak hi kos hin saviik. My power guides you to be your own savior; at least for the first step.” He drew his head closer. “For no one can help you if they do not know what is wrong. Tinvaak, kiir.”
It’s not as if she didn’t want to. How she wanted to open her mouth and say every single thing her father and sister had done. How she wanted to spill every last tear she shed because of them, and quote everything they put in her head. How she wanted to curse the townsfolk for standing by, to beg Jouane to make her stronger, to plead her mother to come back to life and take all her father’s rage away.
Her mother...she killed her mother...it was her birth that killed her. Left her with just a corpse and drunkard for parents, and a bully for a sister. How different would it be if Mother had lived? Or even, how different would it be if Sissel never lived? If she was the spirit who faded away…
No...that’s not what fades. It’s everything mortal that fades, and the spirit remains. After only a few minutes, she was starting to forget Paarthurnax’s teachings. Sissel’s spirit would remain, just as...her mother’s probably did, too. Or, well, did she? Why would Mother bother to watch over her?
Well, she would watch over Father, of course. And Britte, perhaps. But Sissel…
She would. It wouldn’t make sense to not watch over Sissel just because of her death. Sissel and Britte were twins. If Mother had a grudge, it’d be on both of them, just like Father’s. And her Mother went through labor just to give birth to them. Of course she would love them and support them and watch over them, no matter what. It was Father who was angry. Was he always that way and Mother loved him anyway, or was he bitter and abusive now just because of their birth?
It was...unfair. She never wanted Mother to die! She was a baby! She had no control over anything; and yet he talked as if it was all her fault and she was useless to him - the both of them. Why bother to keep the twins around, then? And Britte - why would she torment her own sister when they both were his victims? It was all just so unfair!
Her hands gripped the ground with a new determination. She was not going to die today - not here, not now, and not because of them! She was going to live. She was going to heal. And she would take this chance to finally get away and find a better place with better people. She would grow up, perfect her magic, become successful, find a real family to love.
And one day, she would travel back to Rorikstead just to see the looks on their faces.
Something followed her new feelings of empowerment not long after. Funnily enough, it felt like… literal empowerment. An energy built up and curled through her veins. As it traveled around her body, something faded - feim. The fire in her throat, and some of the aches on her skin. When she opened her eyes, Sissel still found herself covered in bruises and wounds, yet it was like they were only painted on. She felt barely anything from them, and then...nothing.
She was not the only one to sense what had happened. The dragon pulled back slightly, letting out a pleased hum.
“There. I knew I sensed hin suleyk - your strength. Hi los ni sahlo. You are not weak. And yet, someone put a spell on you to make you feel otherwise.”
Sissel furrowed her brow. “There’s only one person I know who can do magic, and he’s my mentor. He’s been helping me with magic; he wouldn’t…”
She trailed off as she saw Paarthurnax’s lips curl. A chuckle erupted from him.
“I did not entirely mean that so literally. Nuz...I get ahead of myself. I still have yet to hear your story, hon hin tey.”
She stared up at him, features falling. “It’s not something anyone is ever interested in hearing…”
Her hair was pulled back by another huff, this time with a hint of a scoff. “Nonsense. The life of a mortal is short; however, each life is full of its own tey ahrk so - tales and woes. I may find an adventurer's life holds more action, but there is a unique sort of drama among those who stay in the same place.
“Besides, if you tell me how you came to be injured, I can better understand what needs to be done.” He finished with a little grin. There was no arguing with that logic.
Sissel sighed as she realized just that. “Well…”
She bit her lip. She rarely ever spoke about this. Pretty much everyone in Rorikstead knew the story without needing to be told. There was the one point where an adventurer came to town, but she only admitted her story after he once saved her father from Redoran’s Retreat and the bandits that kidnapped him. Nobody had really wanted to see him return - it was a mystery how word had even reached the Companions - and she had to explain why to the adventurer when he noticed. His eyes had grown darker after and he left Rorikstead in silence.
That had been many months ago, and since then, her fear of her family grew. Despite the fact she was far away from them now, and the possibility they thought her dead, she still struggled to collect any words about what they had done. It was irrational, but it was happening nonetheless. She had even been prepared to voice it all a few moments ago; and yet, now that the opportunity was upon her, a pressure seemed to be on her chest.
Paarthurnax noticed her hesitance and spoke up again. “Start at whatever kiin - beginning - you wish. Perhaps that will help you?”
This dragon was being very patient. Sissel had never heard of such a thing. Ever since dragons returned, she’d only heard stories of fire raining down, buildings being torn apart, and people being slaughtered. It had happened in Helgen, near Whiterun, at Kynesgrove. One even came back to life near her home, and the same Companion was just in time to kill it. Her father, though, had not even helped her and Britte during the panic. He locked the house before they could come in, and they had to hide within the inn.
Even though Paarthurnax had yet to give her a reason to believe he was a threat like most others of his kind, Sissel still feared irritating him. That day huddled in the inn believing it to be her last was enough to give her that fear, possibly for life. And yet that memory also served another purpose. It reminded her yet again why it was time to put her foot down. Even if nothing would be done - just like it had been for years - it might do her some good to finally come clean to a new face.
She took a deep breath. Yes, it was time.
“When my sister and I were born, my mother died.” Sissel started. “Father was angry ever since. He said it was our fault, and...that we were useless, since we couldn’t help on the farm. He’d go out drinking every night at the inn, and when he came home, he’d beat us based on whatever excuse he could find. My sister, Britte, hits me, too…”
Just like the adventurer, the dragon’s features hardened and his voice streamed out in a hiss. “Zin. Vobalaan bormah.”
However, he shook his head when he noticed Sissel’s body tense. “Krosis. Apologies. That was not directed to you. You may continue.”
She nodded and relaxed. “We’re twins, but not that identical, although Father still has trouble telling us apart. So, Britte uses that by making me do her chores or go through her punishments. I didn’t do her latest chores because I was too busy practicing magic with a friend, so Father beat me really hard. He was angrier than most times, and I blacked out. I thought I was dead.”
A low growl came from Paarthurnax, and the gentle wise dragon looked just like the dangerous ones. He shifted his head away from Sissel as he snarled at nothing.
“Tahrodiis vith. My teeth to his neck. Zu’u hind rok wah dir ahst maar.”
Sissel stepped back in shock. This reaction was more than she expected.
“I’m sorry...I didn’t know it would upset you…”
A small bit of smoke flowed out of his nostrils, and for a second Sissel thought Paarthurnax was doing a similar breathing exercise as she did earlier.
“Nid, krosis. Hi drey nid folaas. You did no wrong. You never did. It is that pathetic excuse of a father, of a man, that has my ire.”
“Are you gonna hurt him?” Sissel asked with a twinge of fear.
His eyes softened. “Many fibers of my being compel me to do so; yet wisdom forces me to stay. You are a fron sil - a kind soul - though. No matter what that joor has done to you, you still feel concerned for him.”
“He’s my father.” Sissel insisted. “He’s cruel, yeah...but family still sticks together.”
“Hi aal kos fin nunon gein wah zin brod.” He said sadly. “You seem to be the only one to honor that.”
“I…” Sissel looked down. “I know.”
“I can promise that will not last, mal gein.” Paarthurnax began to stand upright and stretched himself out. “One way or another...Daar fen bo wah aan laat.”
“I think so, too…”
His head tilted downwards so she could have a better look at his face as he spoke the next words. “When you awaken, distance yourself from that place - as far as you can. Get your friend to help, if you must. Head to Hillgrundhofkah. I have heard that it is called ‘Ivarstead’ by you joor. When you are ready, you must climb The Seven Thousand Steps to reach here again.”
“Hold on.” Sissel said when he finished. “I don’t understand. I thought I was already awake here?”
Paarthurnax gave a light laugh. “I nearly fell for that trick myself. However…”
A claw headed towards Sissel. She yelped and ducked, yet felt nothing. It had gone right through her.
“It seems that in order to save yourself, you tapped in to higher powers.” He smiled. “Mulaag kiir. Your mentor must have sensed this potential as well. Nii fen nunon meyz mul - it will only grow stronger.”
“So…” Sissel stood up again. “I’m not here, am I? Is this a dream, then? Or something else entirely?”
“I know I am not in a hahnu - a dream. It must be Feim - or at least, a weaker variant of Feim.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you just taught me Feim?”
He shook his head. “I helped you strengthen it. Feim is the first word of Feim Zii Gron - Become Ethereal. Yet...it does not explain why you are here , unless it is because you used it without mastery. I can tell you are no Dovahkiin.”
“Dragonborn? No…” She concentrated on some of her previously resurfaced memories. “But I think I’ve seen him before.”
Yes, the Companion that saved her father and killed the newly born dragon - he had to be the Dragonborn. The Dragonborn was the best dragon slayer in all of Skyrim, and people said he had made his return. The Greybeards’ call was heard all around almost a year ago. And that man; he absorbed the soul of the Rorikstead dragon, just as the legends described.
“Perhaps…” Paarthurnax spoke again. “That might be where you heard it. Laan fah rok ahst bok - questions for another time.”
Sissel tried to think back to each time she had seen the Dragonborn. It hadn’t been very many times, and they were all so long ago; it was hard to determine if she’d ever heard one of his legendary Shouts clearly enough to remember the words. And that wasn’t the only thing on her mind at the moment.
“So when am I supposed to-”
When Sissel went to look back at Paarthurnax, she found that something was wrong. He was gone. The snowy area was gone. The night sky was gone. Everything was gone. She was surrounded by a void, with her head throbbing as soon as she noticed this, to the point she clamped her eyes close. She felt as if she were spinning. Until she fell over, and felt her back connect to hard wood. And Sissel just decided to rest there for a little while, feeling so very tired...