I climbed up more of the stone stairs, but I wasn't able to complain about my aching legs as I took in the huge structure before me: Dragonsreach. Its roof was tall, and layered with brown, sunbaked bricks. Beautifuly carved, wooden dragons lined the crest where the stone and bricks met between the two roofs. The building itself was made by skilled architects. It was a marvelous structure, as well as strong, and indestructible. It had to be, as it was intended to capture dragons; however, there had been no known capture of a dragon for the past decade or more. (At least I had thought)

"Halt, what is your business with the Jarl?"

I stopped before a tall, cuirass-clad guard. His face was covered by an iron helmet, his brown eyes barely visible from the narrow slits in its closed face.

"I have a letter from Sk'avani and Sh'adani, Caravan masters from the Northern Parts of Els-"

"Alright, alright, no need to hear your life story. Go right on in." The guard said with boredom. I lowered my eyes, and continued forward to the tall oak doors. Just before I reached the doors, I heard the guard mumble something I assume was 'nothing ever happens here,' or, 'we need a good robbery.'

When I entered the hall, my breath was stolen from me from its shear magnificence.

Bronze braziers held glowing embers, and the light they held reflected off of the tall, polished wooden walls. Two oaken tables, lined with cushioned chairs, and overwhelmed with food, and wines, stood on either side of me. As a ascended further into the hall, all conversations stopped. Eyes of menace, boredom, or plain curiosity watched me was I made my way up the stairs towards a huge, blazing fire pit.

I watched as the fires' red, orange, and yellow flames swayed, as if dancing to a never ending song. The embers twirled in the currents of the air, grazing my skin in warmth and peace. I have always had this fascination with fire. Its warmth made me feel welcome, and loved. I know, I know, ridiculous, but it's true. What's even weirder, is that I can sit closer to the fire than normal people. At first, when I was still a young milk drinker, I thought it was normal, but one night, I got brave, and sat exceptionally close to the fire, enthralled by its warmth, and popping whispers as it called out to me. Sh'adani saw me, and immediately pulled me away, hissing from the heat. I could smell the scorched hair from her hands, but she searched me for injuries or burns, though I knew she found none. I was then beaten, and sent back to work.

I heard a rather loud voice call out to someone, and I looked up to see the Jarl watching me with curiosity. I reddened, but not from the heat, in fact, the fire seemed to sadden as I left it, and walked up more of the polished wooden stairs, to the Jarl's throne. (I officially hated stairs by now)

The Jarl himself had a full head of luscious blonde hair, reminding me of the lions mane far in the southern kingdoms. He had a weathered face, cracked with lines from constant smiling. His eyes, however, held a light of wisdom and wariness from seeing all the world had to offer. He wore very nice clothes: a tunic of fine woven jade green and golden embroidery, as well as a collar lined with smooth, soft fox furs. His boots were polished, and gleamed in the fire light.

"I presume that paper you have is for me, young one?" The Jarl asked. His voice was deep, and kind, and loud, even though he wasn't yelling. I nodded, and held out the paper. As he took it, he took in my scrawny arms, and ragged clothes. His eyes seemed to linger on the purple marks on my arms and face, a fire reflecting in his eyes. I told myself it was only the fire burning behind me.

He opened the folded sheet of parchment, and as he read, his features turned into that of distastefulness, and dislike. "Sh'adani and Sk'avani, huh? Caraven traders.... discounts... rare goods... Hmph. More than likely stolen goods. I'll tell you what they are," he said to his steward, who was standing silently beside his huge wooden throne, " Thieves and Vagabonds they are. Should have been thrown into the dungeons long ago." He mumbled, re-reading the paper. My curiosity was piqued by now, but I kept my gaze down at the glowing wooden floor.

"Tell me, young one, is that all you have to wear?" I looked up, surprised to see care and concern in the eyes of the Jarl. I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly self-conscious, and nodded shyly. I watched as his eyes traveled across my bruised arms, ragged, cloth-sack tunic, and shoe-less feet. My clothes were literally a sack with arm holes and a neck hole cut into it. A worn leather cord wrapped around me to give some shape to my skinny body.

"When is the last time you have eaten?" Oh no... I saw where this was going. I didn't need pity, or help. No, the last time that happened, I had gotten close to my new mast-no, guardians. They were kind, and gave me what I never had. But then, the Khajiit came in the dead of night, and slit their throats, stealing me away. We were gone from the Pale by dawn.

I kept my eyes down cast, not answering. I was hoping that he wouldn't ask me any questions, but I knew his kind heart and warm soul wouldn't let him ignore my state.

Suddenly, his eyes were drawn to something behind me, and I turned, startled to see the Khajiit woman from earlier, staring down at me. I was both frightened and amazed at her astounding silence. If I thought she was tall then, she was a giant standing next to me. I backed away in fear, nearly tripping down the stairs, the slatted eyes of the mask followed me, as did the Jarls'.

I took in the womans' appearance, her clenched, ebony fists were covered in blood, as was the axe she had strapped to her back. She stood ridged, and stiffly, as if ready to pounce, and rip me to shreds. I couldn't help myself, I trembled in fear.

"Dovah Kriid, report?" I sagged in relief as the woman's attention was drawn to the Jarl.

"Sir, the dragon at the Western Watchtower has been taken care of. The damage is bad, but nothing that can't be taken care of with good hands." Her voice was like velvet, so gentle and soft, yet, I could tell it held a great power of some sort, and by the name the Jarl called her, 'Dovah', she must be the legendary Dragonborn! The mortal with the soul of a dragon!

"Good... Now, I have a rather unusual question for you..." The Jarl stated.

"I'm all ears, sir." She said, wiping her bloodied gauntlets on a dark cloth.

"Do you own a homestead with a bed and a suitable living space for a child?"

My eyes widened, and I wouldn't have been surprised so see the kajiits eyes go wide either, considering she just froze completely.

"Krosis zey, sir?" She said. I knew where he was going with this, but I was to stunned to say anything.

"Well, this young girl here, has physical evidence of abuse, and looks like she could trip and die where she stands, so, by order of Jarl, and you being my thane, and me finding you as a suitable guardian for this young girl, I hereby decree this young girl as your own until she reaches the age of independence."

I was both joyous, and horrified. Great, I was free from slavery, at least I hoped, but now, this woman was going to be hunted down. And not only that, but she just slayed a dragon! Who knew what she would do to me if I even polished a dish wrong! The Jarl had no idea what he had just done, and I don't think my new guardian did either.

"Young one, meet your new guardian, Valkyra Nershallow of Lera, the Dragonborn of legend, as well as my trusted Thane."

As I slowly met the slatted eyes of the mask, I could have sworn my life to Hermaeus Mora, I felt her glaring at me with a look of pure detest.

If there were god's out there, then I needed all of them, even Talos.

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Welp, was Jenna saved, or has she been doomed even more?? Find out in the next entry! Also, sorry about lack of posting on 'Revenge'. Haven't been able to get into the writer's mood for it yet. I WILL GET THERE THOUGH! Leave a vote and/or comment! <3;P