Tamriel, Province of Skyrim

Lakeview Manor, Falkreath Hold

The Last Dragonborn flew upwards from his bed, hands reaching for his sword. As his sweat-blurred vision focused, he relaxed and let his sword hand rest.

"A nightmare." he moaned. "Gods damn it, another one…"

Deciding that he could wait to sleep again, he dressed himself and headed for the balcony near his bedroom. Stepping into the cool, yet pleasant air of Falkreath, he sighed with relief. The night had not yet faded, but the dawn was coming.

The Dragonborn, or Matheson Hawksblood, stood there for a while, merely thinking and reflecting on his deeds in the province of Skyrim.

Not only had he slain Alduin, the World-Eater, but he had ended the Vampire Lord Harkon, and the First Dragonborn, Miraak.

He had become Harbinger of the Companions, Guild Master of the Thieves Guild, and Archmage of the College of Winterhold. Officially, he had long retired and given those roles to Farkas and Vilkas, Brynjolf, and Tolfdir, but he was still referred to as the leader of each of them.

He had also joined the Dark Brotherhood, although he had recently severed ties with them as well as the Blades for his own reasons. Finally, through a long and arduous session atop High Hrothgar, he had negotiated an end to the Civil War. The treaty was long and complex, but both sides had made sacrifices.

Ulfric Stormcloak had agreed to give up his claim on the High King's throne, in exchange for ending the rebellion and exoneration for his killing of High King Torygg. The Stormcloaks would disband, and Ulfric would remain Jarl of Windhelm.

General Tullius had agreed to remove Imperial Troops from Skyrim and let it be free, but the Stormcloaks had to allow Elisif to become High Queen. The Thalmor could have been trouble, but they had strangely agreed to the terms and withdrawn their troops. Talos worship was permitted, but only in formerly Stormcloak holds. The Imperial holds were still...slow to adapt. Banditry was a thing of the past, due to combined patrols of Stormcloaks and Imperials along the roads.

Elisif had been named High Queen by the Moot, held after the Treaty session. She now ruled from Solitude, with Ulfric as a personal advisor. That particular notion had been insisted upon by the Jarl of Windhelm. The Dragonborn had been hailed as the Great Peacemaker, and it was added to his list of titles.

Skyrim, the province once plagued by war and strife, was now at peace.

Bu now, the Dragonborn preferred quiet. He had retired to Falkreath, and rarely came out of his home for reasons still unknown, even to him. His many friends were scattered to the winds, and his Housecarls lived in the different homes he owned. Serana, his only real female friend, lived with the Dawnguard, and was helping them eliminate the few remaining vampire lairs in the province.

However, Matheson was still quite busy. He was still an advisor to many holds and organizations, and his voice was more influential than ever.

But as of three weeks ago, nightmarish visions plagued his dreams. They were nearly unintelligible, but the Dragonborn could remember three distinct things.

One, a town surrounding some kind of crystal tree burned to the ground.

Two, a shattered moon in the sky.

And three, a dim sun fading away from sight.

The Dragonborn had no idea what caused them, and neither did any of the help he consulted. Neither the College of Winterhold nor the Greybeards of High Hrothgar could fathom, and Matheson's health was breaking.

As he watched the sun rise over Falkreath, it clicked into his mind, a possible solution.

Paarthurnax.

The Dragonborn cursed his own stupidity. The Leader of the Greybeards would know what plagued him, if anyone could. The dragon had seen Matheson through countless trials, and if anyone knew what to do…

It would be him. The Dragonborn headed inside and down to an armor stand, which bore his adventuring gear.

A set of Nordic armor, forged with ebony lining for defense.

A set of worn Greybeard's robes for warmth and as a status sign.

A Nordic Helmet with the visage of a Hawk.

A battle-scarred Nordic Shield.

A Nordic Bow, and ebony arrows.

And finally, a worn Skyforge Steel sword, with a inscription along the blade, in the dragon tongue. It was honed to perfection, and the Dragonborn knew its name well.

Endeavor.

As the Dragonborn armored himself and prepared his backpack with necessary supplies, he locked the door to Lakeview and began his journey.

====

Once he reached a clearing, he bellowed using the Voice.

"ODAHVIING!"

The Thu'um resonated into the sky, and it wasn't long before a crimson-red Dragon appeared, and bowed low before the Dragonborn.

"Odahviing." Matheson said.

"Dovahkiin." the Dragon replied. "Where do you wish to go?"

"Take me to Paarthurnax." Matheson said, mounting up. "With speed."

"As you wish."

Odahviing soared into the sky, giving the Dragonborn a spectacular view of the morning sun.

====

As the snow crunched beneath his feet, the Dragonborn ascended to High Hrothgar's peak, the summit of The Throat of the World.

And Paarthurnax was waiting for him.

"Greetings, Matheson." the Elder Dragon said. "What brings you to me?"

The Dragonborn sat in the snow, and crossed his legs.

"I've been having visions, my friend." Matheson said. "Night terrors. Images I cannot unsee."

"Krosis." Paarthurnax said. "I know of what you see."

"What is it?" Matheson asked.

"A plea for help." Paarthurnax said. "Someone, in their peril, has reached out to you through the realms, and you have heard their cry."

"But where?" the Dragonborn asked. "I do not recognize the land I saw."

"Because you have not been there." Paarthurnax said. "There is an ancient realm, long forgotten, spoken of by the First Dragons. It lies across a divide no mortal can cross."

"That's where I'm going?" Matheson asked.

"Yes, and you will not go alone." the Greybeard leader said with a solemn tone. "Two dovah must accompany you, for their help is needed to cross the divide."

"Odahviing?" Matheson turned to the Crimson dragon, who nodded.

"Mul Fen Krif, Dovahkiin." Odahviing said. "I shall fly with you."

"And I know another. Durnehviir." Matheson said. "Know of him?"

"Yes, Curse-Never-Dying." Paarthurnax said. "I applaud your mind, Dovahkiin. However, you must go with the Dragons alone. No mortal may cross the divide."

"I understand." Matheson said. "I'll leave immediately."

"Then to Equus shall you go." Paarthurnax said. "May fortune be with you...old friend."

As Matheson summoned the ancient Dragon Durnehviir from the Soul Cairn, the scarred dovah bowed before him.

"Qahnaarin." Durnehviir said. "I shall be honored to fly with you."

"Then take me to this great divide." Matheson said. He mounted Odahviing, and the three flew towards the north, towards the Great Divide.

"How much longer?" Matheson asked as they flew over the Sea of Ghosts.

"We are near the Divide, Dovahkiin." Odahviing said. "A great wave will part, and the divide will be made clear."

"If we are worthy." Durnehviir added. Soon, a massive cloud bank at the horizon parted in a burst of light, leaving a sight that stunned the Dragonborn.

A glittering city upon a mountainside, made of white marble and gold.

"We have crossed over." Odahviing said. "Prepare for landfall."

"Here goes nothing…" Matheson murmured as they approached the city.

Equestria

Canterlot Palace

As Celestia, ruler of Equestria and Princess of the Sun, awoke from her slumber, she cast her magic and raised the great star. As light streamed through the windows, she placed her crown on her head and walked out towards the Day Court room.

She entered and sat down, and Court began.

"Sinker Lure, Princess Celestia." a Guard said as a Fisherpony approached. As he was about to speak, two large shadows crossed over the skyline.

"What was that?" Celestia asked.

"We'll check it out, Princess." two Guards replied. As they headed outside, Celestia sighed inwardly.

"How could today get any more interesting?" she asked herself.

"Princess, there are two dragons and a strange being outside, asking to speak to whoever rules this land."

Celestia stepped down from her throne and headed outside, and she raised her eyebrows. Two massive, feral-looking dragons, one red and one mottled gray, were standing next to the strangest being Celestia had ever seen.

It was bipedal, well-shaped, and muscular. It wore armor that was ornately carved and shaped for battle. Over the armor was a worn black robe, woven with silver. Sheathed on its hip was a sword, and a shield on its back. As it approached, it bowed.

"I presume you are Jarl around here?" he asked.

"Jarl?" Celestia replied. "What does that mean?"

"Forgive me." he said. "A Jarl is a local ruler from my homeland. I don't wish to be rude."

"Forgiven." Celestia said, approaching. "I am Princess Celestia, Ruler of Equestria, Alicorn of the Sun."

"I am Matheson Hawksblood." the being replied. "The Last Dragonborn, Savior of Skyrim, slayer of Alduin, among many other titles."

Celestia was, suffice to say, impressed.

"And the dragons?" she asked.

"I am Durnehviir." the gray one said. "Curse-Never-Dying."

"And I am Odahviing." the red one added. "Snow-Winged-Hunter. We stand in service to the Dovahkiin, or Dragonborn in your tongue."

"I see. What brings you to Equestria?" Celestia inquired. Matheson removed his helmet, revealing a man with once brown hair, flecked now with gray. He spoke now with a grave tone.

"I seek aid for the visions that plague my dreams."

Author's Note

Yep, the Dragonborn has arrived in Equestria.