Dragonborn Cometh!

Surtr falls to his knees and tightly closes his eyes as he tries in vain to process everything that was happening... Thoughts, feelings, and memories pass through his mind, but he was sure...? He was sure? He-, wasn't sure if they were his or not.

Who was he, even?

He remembered his birth... Thousands of years ago he was brought into existence by his father, Akatosh, and though the being never said a word to him or his brothers, he knew that they were his greatest creation. They hadn't just been gifted the world, the world had been gifted them...?

No... He was born in Stonehills to Pactur and Sorli, with a brother called Sirgar, right!?

He'd travelled across the Empire training himself in the art of combat-

-Flown over the world, ruled over lesser beings as his father had wanted-

-Fought with Ulfric Stormcloak and the rebels-

-Burned those traitorous mortals who dared defy them-

-Barely avoided execution at the hands of the Imperial Legion-

-Destroyed their false priests who lie of their loyalty-

-Fought against a dragon attacking Whiterun!-

-Killed his traitorous kin and absorbed their essence-

-He'd killed the dragon Mirmulnir-

-He'd died at the hands of the Dragonborn, Surtr-

-He was Surtr-

-He could only be Surtr-

-Surtr lived-

-Mirmulnir died-

-But his memories lived on-

Surtr grabbed his head and gave a pained shout. He had no idea what was happening to him, but Mirmulnir did... He absorbed the dragon's soul, memories, might and all.

"-urtr! Surtr! Are you alright!?" Jackle hurriedly asks as she shakes his shoulder.

"Uh... I-... I don't know. D-don't touch me." he mutters in response while unconsciously brushing her hand away, the reactionary feeling of wanting to tear apart the mortal that touched him was almost overwhelming him. He knew these sensations were both foreign, and not. They were his feelings now, he was Mirmulnir and Surtr as one. Logic dictated that he was the dominant personality due to the simple fact that he lived and the dragon did not... But that didn't make separating thousands of years worth of feelings, instincts, and memories from his own any easier.

"Gods, he's... Dragonborn!..." one of the guards mutter as they look at the steaming pile of dragon bones.

"Dragonborn...? The one from legend!?"

"He's truly Dragonborn!"

Surtr squeezes his temples as many people begin to chant 'Dragonborn', the feeling that his head was about to explode was only made worse by those annoying ants! "B-be quiet! All of you!..." he shouts, causing everyone to trail off, confused at his response.

"Surtr! Are you alright? Is something wr-" Shakeesh says as he approaches.

"G-GET. AWAY!" he shouts, his voice causing a shockwave that lifts all nearby people off of their feet, throwing them to the ground, stunned but ultimately unharmed.

...

"GODS! HE REALLY IS THE DRAGONBORN!" a guard shouts, as if he hadn't just been blown off of his feet by Surtr.

Ignorant of Surtr's erratic state of mind, many people begin celebrating the birth of a new Dragonborn, at least, until Irileth ordered everyone to do their respective duties, giving Surtr some degree of respite.

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The fighting force eventually returned to Whiterun, first with the injuries carried atop some loaded carriages, then followed by a dozen carriages transporting the many dragon bones, all at the shock and awe of everyone watching.

The people following behind the cart couldn't help but sing and chant in the Dragonborn's name, despite the fact that Surtr was frowning and acting out whenever someone touched him.

His friends in the Companions noticed this change, and it was only Shakeesh and Jackle that stopped anyone from stepping over the line and causing a full-on meltdown.

"DOOOOVAAAAAHHHHKIIIIIIINNN!!!!!!!!!!" a litany of voices call out from atop seemingly every nearby mountain simultaneously, literally causing the ground to tremble, not from the volume, but from the sheer presence of it.

Surtr unconsciously growls at it, comparing the voices to the scrape of metal, or nails on a chalkboard. He could tell that those who uttered it shouldn't be using it in the first place, thieves.

Everyone in the convoy paused midstep at the call, some guards looking between each other with almost gleeful expressions, "The Greybeards! They call the Dragonborn! It's a summons!!!"

"THE DRAGONBORN, REVEALED WITHIN OUT CITY! WE ARE TRULY GRACED!"

Shakeesh wets his lips as he looks at Surtr, "We'll take you to Jorrvaskr, so the whole city can't follow. Give you some degree of peace there." he says, nodding at Jackle as they pull the despondent Surtr away.

Irileth, some of her more trusted guards, and the rest of the Companions file into Dragonsreach, quickly reporting the happening to Jarl Balgruuf.

"So, you killed the dragon, and the bones are waiting outside on a cart?" he tentatively asks, unsure if they were being truthful... Not because she couldn't trust them, but because of how unbelievable the situation seemed to him. Sure, his keep was designed to trap dragons, but that'd always been a myth, legend to him.

"It is as you said, my Jarl." Irileth nods.

"And you were saved by a former Companion, a foreign warrior?"

Aela coughs into her fist, drawing the Jarl's attention, "Not former, she was never formally removed from our roster. Saeka Busujma is still a Companion."

Balgruuf breathes a brief of relief, "Good, that saves us having to send gifts of thanks to Hammerfell..." he looks back to Irileth, "Lastly... What's this about a Dragonborn? I heard the Greybeards earlier, so it can't just be a rumour... Does Skyrim have a new Champion?"

Irileth wets her lips, "Yes, it seems so... However, the 'Dragonborn' is none other than Surtr, the Stormcloak sympathiser who'd almost had his head cut off in Helgen..."

...

"That... Makes things difficult." the Jarl mutters, running a hand through his beard, his tired face looking focussed despite his rather pale and pallid skin. "Where is he now, might I ask? Was he injured?"