Confessions of a Reluctant Dovahkiin

With Ulfric Stormcloak and his boys so close to storming Solitude's gates, I ought to be shooting arrows at targets in the archery training ground like there's no tomorrow. I should be hacking away at mannequins to keep my blades sharp for battle. Instead, I find myself spending much of my time thinking. Thinking of what was, is, and will be. Thinking of what others have said about this war, and the cost of victory. My thoughts went back to good-natured Hadvar, who confided in me more than once about his misgivings. Kinsman fighting kinsman. Sons and daughters of Skyrim, adopted and otherwise, spilling their own blood. Secretly, I am glad that there is at least one person in this war who has not turned into a beast yet, killing without feeling anything.

All except probably one (if I do get to mount his head on my wall).

I thought of loyal Rikke, my fellow Legate. We have had the chance to talk a little about her viewpoints during a stopover en route to Solitude, and things got pretty interesting. What a stark contrast she was from her erstwhile friend Ulfric. She had shown that one can be a child of Skyrim and be a loyal citizen of the Empire at the same time, a concept that I'm sure the Jarl of Windhelm would reject. And the fact that she doesn't seem to hold much animosity for Ulfric Stormcloak -- only a deep disappointment, by the looks of it -- she may well be a better warrior than I am.

And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies...

Ulfric the opportunist.

I had hoped the same for someone too.

Then, there's General Tullius, who seems to read me better than I can read myself. We, the General and the rest of the Legates, had discussed the plans for the defense of Solitude. In these dire times, he had promoted me as Rikke's equal, second only to the General's command in Skyrim. I was happy, I really was. But there was no time to celebrate, and even then, I guess only Serana would be there to accompany me.

For the rest of the Imperial Legion's sake, General Tullius had done his best to keep up our morale regarding the state of things. Let Ulfric and his Stormcloaks come at us, and we will defeat them in our home ground. But after he had sent the rest of the Legates away, he called me and Rikke to him. Only to the two of us did he express his own doubts regarding our chances of victory. He had known Rikke a long time, but I know I reminded him of our joint land of birth, Cyrodiil. And perhaps, the loved ones he had left behind. Unexpectedly, he's been like a second father to me in the relatively short time I've been in the Legion. General Tullius made me promise that I would obey his every command the moment the Stormcloaks arrive, even if it was to flee.

But there's a catch...

I frowned at the thought of fleeing. No doubt, I would be scorned as a deserter on both sides even if it was by the General's orders. However, General Tullius handed me a letter, signed by none other than Jarl Balgruuf the Greater. He had taken refuge in Jarl Elisif's court ever since the fall of Whiterun, but I have not had the courage to look him in the eye. The letter recounted an event I had not looked back to in a long time -- the first time I slew a dragon outside Whiterun. I recalled the dragon's name: Mirmulnir. Then, there was the summon from the Greybeards after I absorbed Mirmulnir's soul. I had gone to High Hrothgar at Jarl Balgruuf's behest, but despite the Greybeards' warm welcome, my thirst to discover Skyrim's wonders overrode my interest on what it meant to be the Dragonborn.

"I've heard rumors about a new person joining your ranks. Descriptions of this recruit matched that of an Imperial who once did Whiterun a great service. Her name is Kiya. Heed my words -- if she is indeed the Dragonborn, she must on all costs not perish. Ulfric Stormcloak does not grasp the true threat of the dragons' return, and if the legends are true, she will hold the key to defeating the menace that is now upon us."

The General's still a bit bitter from the botched Helgen execution.

I murmured that the Stormcloaks had their own Dovahkiin in their ranks, and one who is more willing to use the Ancient Tongue than I am. As far as I know, the rest of Skyrim hold him as the true holder of that destiny. My ability to absorb dragon souls have all but turned to rumors ever since I sought to disentangle myself from that title. But now I am aware that there are still people who believe in me, and are willing to put their lives on the line just to make sure I live long enough to quell the dovah problem.

The General, usually not one to be affected by Nord legends, refused to hear my excuses and reiterated that I was to save my own skin if the battle turned against our favor. I do not know about the other Legionnaires, but so far only Rikke and General Tullius know the whole truth about me being Dragonborn.

I had to spend time on my own after that exchange. Jarl Elisif and Falk Firebeard had graciously granted me ownership of Proudspire Manor in return for all the help I've given Solitude. The patios surrounding it grant a breathtaking view of the scenery around Solitude, and if the weather was clear, I could make out Windstad Manor near the marshes.

Not the best armor around for someone of that stature.

The moments of passion, all those happy times with him... memories of them filled me every time I saw his home. Not at the intensity as they did now, though. I will see him again soon, that much I am sure of. It would be easy to fall back on the memories, but I should not. Could not. He would strike me down without mercy if he had the chance, and I simply have to return that favor.

If the gods are merciful, I will finally be able to go back to Lucia after all this is over. I am tired. It will be a long time before I will venture out to explore again. If we do win this battle.

- Kiya