Year’s End

I stood in my kitchen, surrounded by the sleek, modern design of the apartment's most luxurious feature—a top-of-the-line, custom-built kitchen. The countertops were smooth granite, reflecting the soft ambient lighting that glowed beneath the cabinetry. Chrome appliances gleamed, all in perfect alignment, while an expansive island dominated the center, offering plenty of space to prepare drinks.

I had guests tonight, and I was planning on making drinks. I had to admit, my drink-mixing skills were improving. I had been practicing for a while, and tonight was a chance to show off a bit.

I began by pouring bourbon into a mixing glass. I added a dash of simple syrup, followed by a few drops of aromatic bitters, stirring it slowly with a bar spoon. I reached for a large ice cube and placed it in a crystal tumbler, pouring the bourbon mixture over it.

'Now for the garnish,' I thought, as I took an orange peel, twisted it above the drink, and dropped it into the glass, letting it float at the top, completing the drink.

"Right, on to the next," I muttered, grabbing a lime and rolling it on the counter to loosen the juices before slicing it in half. I squeezed the juice into a cocktail shaker, then added tequila and Cointreau. I threw in a handful of ice and began shaking it vigorously.

Before pouring it out, I rimmed a chilled glass with salt, dipping the rim first in lime juice to make the salt stick. I poured the contents of the shaker into the glass, the pale, refreshing liquid settling neatly beneath the frosty salted rim.

Lastly, I made lemonade for myself—nothing fancy, just something to keep me refreshed without the alcohol.

With the drinks done, I carried them to the living room, where Margot and Scarlett were lounging comfortably on the plush couches, deep in conversation. Margot was dressed casually, a loose, oversized t-shirt draped over her frame, paired with tiny shorts that showed off her long legs. Her blonde hair was tousled, falling slightly over her face as she leaned back, relaxed. Scarlett, meanwhile, wore a casual outfit—a fitted gray t-shirt and jeans. Her hair was a vibrant red again, which I thought suited her best.

"There you are, ladies," I said as I approached them, balancing the drinks in my hands.

Scarlett looked up with a teasing smirk. "Are we going to survive after trying your drinks, or should I start preparing my will now?"

I laughed, handing her the Old Fashioned I made. "These are the best drinks you're going to taste... ever."

"We'll see about that," Scarlett said, eyeing the drink with mock suspicion before taking it from me.

Margot took her Margarita, her eyes lighting up as she brought the salted rim to her lips.

I set my lemonade down on the table before sitting with them on the couches, which were arranged in a cozy circle.

"So, what happened after?" Scarlett asked Margot, picking up their conversation from before I arrived.

"Is this about that guy who kept asking about you?" I chimed in, already suspecting what the conversation was about.

Margot nodded, rolling her eyes dramatically before turning to Scarlett. "He was just the worst. No one could help me because, apparently, he was the son of some lord," she said, clearly exasperated.

Scarlett smirked. "In their minds, you must have been so lucky, and of course, you were just being rude to him."

"Yes, exactly!" Margot replied, grateful for the understanding. "Thankfully, my shoot was done, and I could get out of there."

"So, are you going to tell me when they're going to release The Avengers?" I asked Scarlett to change the subject as I took a sip of my lemonade.

Scarlett gasped in mock horror. "Why, Mr. Adler, that would be a breach of contract!"

"Come on, I won't tell anyone," I said, leaning forward.

"Well, why don't you tell me when your movie is going to be released?" Scarlett shot back, playful but firm.

"Come on, you agreed you were going to give me the deets!" I tried again.

Scarlett gave a mischievous smile. "Well, I need something in return."

Margot, sipping her Margarita, nodded in agreement with Scarlett. "She's right, Danny, this can't be a one-way thing."

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Wait a minute, are you Severus Snape-ing me? Are you a triple agent?"

Margot burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink, while Scarlett coolly took a sip of her Old Fashioned and winked at me over the rim.

"It's May," I finally admitted, sighing in defeat.

Scarlett tilted her head, smirking. "It's the same for The Avengers as well."

"Oh, fuck," I muttered, realizing the films would release around the same time, setting up a potential clash.

"Is that bad?" Margot asked, glancing between Scarlett and me.

"Well, it might affect the box office for both movies," I replied.

Scarlett leaned back, looking slightly more serious. "On the Marvel side, everyone's a bit worried. The return of Batman to the big screen is being talked about more than The Avengers right now."

I shook my head. "You guys don't have to worry about anything. The Avengers is going to be a great movie, no doubt. What I need is for Batman to at least gross close to 800 million."

Scarlett raised an eyebrow, her voice curious. "Do you really think The Avengers is going to make that much?"

I looked at her, smiling confidently. "Baby… it's going to make so much more."

Before Scarlett could respond, Margot jumped in, interrupting with a playful groan. "No more movie talk!"

"But it's so interesting!" I said with a grin.

Margot pouted and crossed her arms. "Let's play a game or something," she suggested.

Suddenly, Margot's eyes lit up, and she stood up. "Let's play poker!" she declared, walking toward the other room.

"So, how's Joanna?" Scarlett asked, casually leaning back on the couch.

"Joanna?" I replied, momentarily confused before remembering. "Oh, she's doing great. Her album's coming out soon."

Scarlett liked Joanna's music, and since I was close to Joanna, I had introduced them a year ago.

Scarlett gave a small smile. "I actually ran into her recently."

"Oh, really?" I said, intrigued.

Scarlett's smile grew as she looked at me a little more pointedly. "I was surprised when I heard you started dating Margot. I honestly thought Joanna was going to be the one making a move."

I chuckled and shook my head. "No, no. Jo and I are just friends. I've never seen her like that."

Scarlett tilted her head slightly. "Really?"

"Yeah," I replied with a shrug. "She had a crush on me in high school, but that's it. We're just good friends."

Before Scarlett could say anything else, Margot came back with a deck of cards in hand, a wide grin on her face.

"What are the stakes?" Scarlett asked as she eyed the cards.

Margot and I exchanged a glance but didn't have an answer.

Scarlett's smile turned devious. "Let's make it interesting… strip poker."

Margot's eyes widened in surprise, and she stifled a laugh.

I smirked confidently. "Are you sure you want to go there? I'm very good at poker."

"Oh, really?" Scarlett raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the challenge.

"Yep," I said with a grin. "I once beat Stephen King, Richard Castle, and the mayor of New York in a game."

"Impressive," Scarlett replied, shuffling the cards. She locked eyes with me, her smile challenging. "Show me."

"Is this just an excuse to see my boyfriend naked?" Margot asked, her eyes narrowing at Scarlett.

"Hey, he said he's an expert, maybe he'll be the one to see us," Scarlett replied.

I leaned back, the smirk never leaving my face. "Prepare to lose your clothes, ladies."

=====

Two hours later

I shifted awkwardly on the couch, feeling the cool blast of the air conditioner against my bare skin. I clutched a small pillow to my groin, doing a poor job of covering my modesty. Across from me, Margot and Scarlett sat comfortably, both of them clearly enjoying my predicament.

Margot, still fully clothed, smirked as she crossed her legs and leaned back. "Very good at poker, huh?" she teased.

Scarlett, on the other hand, had lost her top and was sitting in her bra, her arms crossed casually over her chest. Her breasts were full and round, barely contained by the lacy fabric of her bra. She caught me looking and winked, a playful grin spreading across her face. "He beat the mayor of New York, didn't he? Must've been quite the game," she added with mock sincerity, her breasts jiggling slightly as she chuckled.

"Shut up," I muttered, adjusting the pillow that was precariously balanced in my lap. I could feel my face growing hot, my embarrassment only increasing under their gazes.

"Well, I think that's it. Game's over," I said, standing up quickly, still attempting to shield myself from their view.

Margot giggled, playfully covering Scarlett's eyes with her hand. "No peeking!" she said.

I hurriedly made my way to my room, my face flushed with embarrassment.

"Never playing poker again," I mumbled to myself.

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The year was coming to an end. It was already late November, and the air carried the crisp chill of the approaching winter. I knew the next few months would be hectic—pre-production for Batman Begins was in full swing, and principal photography was set to begin in March. Add to that the other projects I had on the horizon, and I'd be bouncing from city to city.

A private jet was starting to seem less like a luxury and more like a necessity. I chuckled to myself at the thought, watching as my breath turned into visible mist in the cold late-November air of England.

As I approached the towering structure of the Cardington Airship Hangar, the wide doors creaked open. Inside, the hangar was alive with the hustle and bustle of crew members.

My attention was instantly drawn to the Tumbler, which was going to be the Batmobile. It sat there like a hulking beast, bathed in the cold, industrial glow of the overhead lights.

Nathan Crowley, the production designer, stood nearby, flipping through the pages of his clipboard. He looked up and spotted me approaching, grinning as he motioned toward the Tumbler.

"There she is," Crowley said with a hint of pride, his eyes gleaming. "Ready to tear up some asphalt."

I stepped closer, my boots echoing softly on the concrete floor. My hand instinctively reached out, fingertips brushing against the cold, hard metal surface of the Tumbler. Up close, it looked even more imposing. The massive tires alone looked like they could plow through a brick wall without hesitation.

"She's a beauty," I muttered.

Crowley nodded, then gestured toward the open hangar doors. "We've got a small track set up outside. Want to take her for a spin?"

I glanced outside. Snowflakes were still falling gently, dusting the ground in a light white cover. The track was barely visible beyond the hangar, just a winding path of asphalt gleaming in the snow.

"Isn't it a little dangerous with the snow?" I asked, half-joking but slightly wary. The last thing I wanted was to crash this beautiful machine in the middle of a test run.

Crowley chuckled. "Dangerous? Yeah, maybe. But this thing was built to handle anything. Snow, ice, rain—you name it."

I laughed, but my pulse quickened. "Alright," I said, never one to back down from a challenge. "Let's see what she can do."

I climbed inside the cockpit. The interior was tight, designed for function over comfort. The moment I settled into the seat, I could feel the sheer power of the vehicle enveloping me. The engine roared to life with a deep, guttural growl that reverberated through the entire frame of the car, sending vibrations through my body.

With a nod from the crew, I eased the Tumbler out of the hangar and onto the makeshift track. The snow crunched under the massive tires as the Tumbler rolled forward, the growl of the engine growing louder with each passing second. My grip tightened around the wheel as the vehicle responded instantly to my movements, as though it was eager to be unleashed.

Taking the first curve, I could feel the weight of the Tumbler, but it was surprisingly nimble, despite its imposing size. The tires gripped the snowy track with ease, making me feel like I could plow through anything that stood in my way. The sensation was intoxicating.

I pressed down harder on the accelerator, feeling the surge of power beneath me as the Tumbler launched forward, sending snow flying in its wake. The sound of the engine drowned out everything else, the world outside fading into a blur of white as the vehicle roared ahead. For a moment, it felt like I was invincible—like nothing could stop me.

But as I approached a tight corner, I felt the back end of the Tumbler begin to slide. The snow had become slicker, and the vehicle skidded to the side. Instinctively, I yanked the wheel, trying to regain control. For a split second, the Tumbler spun, its massive tires sliding across the snow-covered asphalt in a moment of near-panic.

Time seemed to slow down as I fought to correct it, my mind racing to stay ahead of the skidding beast beneath me. Then, just as quickly, I managed to right it, easing the Tumbler out of the skid and back onto the track.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

Crowley's voice crackled through the earpiece, sounding amused. "Nice save, Daniel."

"Yeah," I replied, still catching my breath.

As I brought the Tumbler back to the hangar, I slowed to a stop just outside the massive doors. Climbing out, the cold air hit my flushed face, the engine's growl still echoing in my ears.

Crowley was waiting for me, a wide grin plastered across his face. "Told you. That thing was made to tear through anything—snow, rain, and soon Gotham City."

I glanced back at the Tumbler, nodding in agreement. "Yeah…That thing is going to be iconic."

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Summary: Harald Stormcrown, the Last Dragonborn, finds himself sent to the world of Ice and Fire by the machinations of the Daedric Prince Sheogorath. Harald is no stranger to traveling to worlds he once thought were fiction. He arrives in the Kingdom of the Rivers and Isles, under the harsh rule of Harren the Black. The Last Dragonborn soon finds himself becoming a conqueror and, once more, a dragonslayer.

SI Dragonborn in the Riverlands before Aegon's Conquest.