Dragonborn

by CyanWings62

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Crossover, Human, Twilight Sparkle, Main 6, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Other
Length: 1444

Twilight Sparkle turns out to be Dragonborn, what crazy adventures will she find herself on?

Twilight Sparkle was an honored student back back at the College of Winterhold, where she learned magic under the close tutelage of Archmage Celestia, but when she attempts to help a friend of her's, Lyra, she becomes captured by the Imperial army.
Afterwards, Helgen gets attacked by a dragon; a legend and she finds herself in a race to save Skyrim from a powerful mythical creature, and ends up stuck in the middle of a civil war in which she doesn't know which side to pick.
Hopefully the companions she picks up along the way will keep her from going insane from the stress and save her from becoming a small pawn in the divided country.
MLP crossover with Skyrim

Published 2013-08-24 01:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-08-24 01:50:02 UTC

Captured!

Dragonborn
Chapter One: Captured

Twilight Sparkle groggily opened her eyes, and then closed them when harsh, white light burned into her retinas. A throbbing pain echoed in her skull and rough, scratchy fabric brushed its coarse kiss all over her skin. Slowly opening her eyes, so that they would adjust to the light falling across her face, she saw several fuzzy shapes. Three blue shapes, lacking of definition due to her unusually poor eyesight, swayed to and fro from the movement of the cart they were in. A humanoid shape sat on her left, a mix of brown and metallic shine on its body; it appeared to be controlling the two, darker brown blurs in front of it. Green formed the backdrop around her and the other four people and gray was the only thing Twilight could distinguish about the path. She heard, through what seemed to be a tunnel, the faint sounds of clopping hooves and the vague voices that whispered indecipherable words.

“What… Happened?” She groaned, moving her hands to rub her head, but instead bumped a rough rope against her forehead.

“Oh, great.” Twilight sarcastically drawled as she looked at her bound wrists.

“You’re awake. Good.” The blue blur across from her spoke. Squinting and blinking her eyes rapidly, she tried to make out the speaker’s face through her swimming vision. Blonde hair, greasy and matted, framed his dirty face. Dark stubble shadowed his lower cheeks, chin, and lips while his blue eyes shined with grim life. He chuckled deeply, finding amusement in her frazzled state.

“And I thought I looked bad. Nothing could hold a candle to your hair,” He teased her, though it was true. Twilight’s hair really was a disaster. Bits of it stuck up wildly and the left side of her head was matted by blood, darkening the already bluish-black hair. Her violet eyes were droopy with dark circles underneath.

“What’s going on?” Twilight yawned softly, rubbing her cheek into the rough-sewn fabric on her shoulder. Her vision was starting to clear up, details starting to become defined.

“We’re going to the executioner’s block.” The man turned to look at the progress the wagon has made towards its final destination. Not too far ahead of them were two other carts sporting their own prisoners. A thick, ominous silence fell on the group as the gray walls of… Wait, where exactly are we going?

“Where are we going?” The man next to her asked. He had dark hair and thick stubble that swallowed the lower part of his face. Dark circles consumed his eyes, but it was easy to tell he was afraid. His voice trembled slightly and his black eyes gleamed desperately.

“Those walls belong to Helgen. Funny, how I used to feel safe in its walls when I was a boy, yet I go there to face my doom.” He snorted at the irony before turning to Twilight. “So, lass, what’s your name?”

“Does it matter at this point?” She asked, gritting her teeth as a nasty jolt from the wagon sent daggers into her head.

“I might as well make some friends before I die,” He grinned. “I’m Ralof, and you are?”

“Twilight Sparkle.” There were times where she really hated the fact that her parents gave her such an unusual name, but Ralof took it in stride.

“I’d say pleasure to meet you,” He chuckled before finishing. “But these conditions are not very good for pleasantries.” Ralof leaned towards her, assessing her. “You don’t happen to be a mage, right?”

“How could you tell?” Twilight weakly smiled. “Yes, I am.”

“Well…?” He looked at her expectantly.

“…What?” Her eyebrows scrunched low over her eyes in confusion. What does he want?

Ralof stared pointedly at her bound hands.

“Oh...” Twilight twisted her head deliberately, reminding the man of her head wound.

“Too good to be true then,” He sighed, shaking his head somberly.

“Do you know who he is?” Twilight jerked her hands towards the gagged man next to Ralof. Long, dirty blonde hair fell around his face and his forehead glistened with sweat. His dark blue eyes stared down at the wooden floor of the cart, but despite his seemingly submissive, hopeless pose, his face was set in determined pride.

“That’s Ulfric Stormcloak,” Ralof answered, sounding reverent and awestruck. “He killed High King Torygg with only his voice!”

“Voice?” Twilight was unfamiliar with the word. She knew it meant the sound produced from the vocal cords, but it’s impossible to talk someone to death, isn’t it? The only thing she knew was that Ulfric did, indeed, kill the High King, but she lacked the details of what had actually happened.

“Thu’um,” Was the simple answer. Twilight racked her brain; trying to remember where she had heard that word…It was covered in one of my classes, right? Sounds really familiar. Ralof interrupted her train of thought.

“We’re here. At the end of the rope.” He announced as the cart rolled beneath a large portcullis. The green background of the pine trees was replaced by the drab, gray stone and tan thatch roofs. Families stood on the wooden porches of their houses, watching the carts go by. One father ordered his boy to go into the house as they rolled by. Next to her, Twilight could hear the man pray to the Divines for mercy.

She bit her lip, thinking. She could tell the people in charge the gray area of her crime; that she was helping a friend, but that didn’t change the fact that the law was broken. She could also try to magic her way out, but the well placed wound to her head made it near impossible to focus her Magicka.

The cart jolted to a stop. Looks like the only choice I’ve got is to face it. I hope Lyra’s alright!

Lyra, who was Twilight’s friend at the College of Winterhold, had contracted a disease that made her delusional. The problem was that the disease’s cure wasn’t native to Skyrim, so no local plant or potion was going to work. None of the alchemical reagent shops, or the potion shops had anything that could be used beyond a fever reducer. The civil war has stopped trade, the rebel army destroying the supplies for the Imperial army, and now even the wealthiest families have to rut around the dirt to get the ingredients for simple, cheaper cures.

So, Twilight did what she felt was right; jump the border. But, there was a fatal flaw in her plan, and that’s why she was here, on the way to the block.

“The Thalmor! What are they doing here?” Ralof glared at the robed elves watching from the sides. Twilight only just barely saw part of a golden, pointed ear sticking out of one of their helmets before they fell away from her eyesight.

“Get ‘em out of the carts, now!” A rough, feminine voice yelled. Soldiers, garbed in the leather armor of the Imperial order, moved towards the end of the carts. Twilight stood up with the rest of the traitors, rebels, thieves, and run-aways. She jumped off the back of the cart, and staggered, bumping into Ralof.

“Whoa, there lass,” He said, steadying her to the best of his abilities.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Twilight gratefully smiled at him.

“Tis nothing.” Everyone was gathered into an unruly crowd around the two imperial soldiers. The one to the left was a woman covered in heavy armor and a hard, weathered face glared out of the heavy helmet on her head. The one to the right was a man; he wore imperial armor and no helmet, allowing his black hair to blow in the wind.

“When we call your name, move to the block!” The woman yelled. The man next to her fingered the edges of a long list, his leathery face staring out at the lot of prisoners.

“The Empire and their damned lists,” Ralof grumbled.

“Ulfric Stormcloak!” The grizzly, gagged Nord stepped forward and moved to where the executioner stood. A black mask covered the executioner’s face and he held a tall, thick-bladed half-moon axe by his side.

“It was an honor to serve you, Jarl Ulfric,” Ralof lamented, bowing his head slightly in revered respect.

“Ralof of Riverwood!” The man moved off to stand near Ulfric.

“Lokir of Rorikstead!”

“No! I’m not a rebel!” The haggard man next to Twilight yelled, making her wince, before quickly sprinting down the stone path.

Author's Note

Tell me what you think :)
I'm more than willing to respond to comments who have questions. Or say something funny xD
Thank you for reading!