This story's about a lot of things. It's about the unusual circumstances that led my character to go to Solstheim, and how she copes (or fails to cope) with the fact that she's Dragonborn. But mostly it's about her relationship with her two best friends. So I dedicate this story to my two best 'real life' friends Trishy Fishy and Yoyocrazy3, who are as encouraging and wonderful to me as J'shana's friends are to her. :)

PASSENGERS

CHAPTER ONE - APPEARANCES AND ACCUSATIONS

Gjalund Salt-Sage was more than used to weirdness. But even he could only take so much.

He had ferried any amount of unusual passengers in his time, from Windhelm to Solstheim and back to Windhelm again. People from all walks of life had sailed on the Northern Maiden, representatives of every race and with varying amounts of coin. Some were nobles or wealthy merchants who were happy to hand over a little extra gold for the cabins at the back of the ship that rocked less when the ocean tossed. Others were peasants who had to sell the clothes from their backs just to get a hammock below decks. Some were dull, others surprising. And some were plain strange, like those fellows in the carved masks. After they boarded the Northern Maiden, he'd thought nothing could surprise him.

And then… then these three came.

He'd been on deck, minding his own business (he didn't have much else to do, while he tried to work out what in the Nine's good name had happened during those forgotten days) when he'd seen her coming. The fact that she was a Khajiit was cause enough for surprise – they were rare in Skyrim, and it was rarer still to see one so close to the city walls. The caravans usually camped outside the stable. But it was clear at once that this Khajiit was no caravan member. She looked nothing like one. Caravan members did not carry ornate, white-gold bows, or wear armour made from the scales of dragons.

Dragons. Real, honest-to-the-Gods armour made from dragon scales.

'Is that her?' Lygrleid had breathed, as she ran along the docks, weaving with surprising grace for one so clearly in a hurry between the Argonian workers and the guards.

Gjalund didn't need to ask who he meant. Everyone had heard the stories. The Dragonborn seemed to appear like a bolt of lightning from nowhere when she was needed, chasing off a dragon or fighting a vampire or two, only to vanish like smoke as soon as people turned away. It was said that her name was J'shana, but no one seemed entirely sure. What was known for certain was that she was a Khajiit with piercing amber eyes and ash-grey fur with black stripes. And that she wore dull green armour – dragonscale armour.

'Has to be,' he murmured, standing up to get a better view.

He had wondered dimly what on Nirn the saviour of Skyrim was doing at the Windhelm docks. And then he'd wondered sharply, and worriedly, why she was heading towards his ship.

If she asks for passage to Solstheim… He shuddered. He'd promised himself never to go back to that Godsforsaken isle, but if the Dragonborn requested it, how could he say no?

His worst fears had been realised after she turned to dash along the quay leading to the Maiden. With a sigh, Gjalund went to meet her. Shor's bones, of course he was excited to meet the Dragonborn, but under these circumstances…

'How much for passage to Solstheim?' she demanded, before Gjalund could speak.

Damn.

He was surprised by her voice. While there was a light hiss to her Ss and a soft growl to her Rs, her accent was almost completely Cyrodiilic. Nothing like the husky, purring accents of the caravan members. Didn't make her question any less difficult to answer, though.

'Look, if you want to go to Solstheim, too bad,' Gjalund said wearily. 'I'm not going back there anymore.'

'I'm sorry, but you need to take me.' Another surprise – she called herself I, not Khajiit or this one. 'People are in danger –'

'And so will I be if I go back.' Gjalund decided he might as well tell her about those… people. Maybe he could put her off. 'Look, I don't even remember how I got here. See, I remember those people with the masks coming on board, then… Next thing I remember, I was here and they were gone. That's not right, losing whole days like that.'

He met her piercing amber gaze, hoping she would relent and say she'd find some other ship, but her expression didn't change. 'I've known worse to happen.'

Gjalund ran a hand through his hair. 'There's been something strange going on there for a while now, but after this… I'm done. I'm not going back to Solstheim.'

'Yes, you are.' There was a sudden, fierce hiss in the Dragonborn's voice. 'You're taking me to Solstheim. Because those cultists you brought here tried to kill me. And not just me. They…'

Her voice trailed off, and her eyes grew distant. 'Please,' she whispered, both her face and her voice softening. 'Those men in masks tried to hurt the people I love. And they'll do it again unless I stop them. If you're not willing to do this for the sake of my loved ones, you might at least do it to make amends for bringing them here.'

Gjalund groaned mentally. He'd known that he wouldn't be able to get out of it. It was hardly something to boast about, that you'd let some crazies onto your ship who'd attacked the Dragonborn. Well, at least he could make some coin.

'All right. I guess taking you there to find out who sent them is the last I can do. And maybe you can put a stop to whatever's going on there.' He hesitated, wondering how much compensation she was willing to give. 'Two hundred Septims,' he said.

'Done,' she said instantly. Gjalund blinked – he'd expected her to at least try to argue him down. 'When are we leaving?'

Better to get it over with, he guessed. 'Right away, if you want.'

'Perfect.'

She handed over her coin and leaped on board. Gjalund turned to his crew, signalling for them to start preparations for the voyage. 'Mind if I ask,' he said, eyeing the Khajiit carefully. 'Are you –'

'Yes, I am the Dragonborn.' She strode forwards to stand at the prow, gazing out over the sea. 'Whatever this… Miraak might think about it.'

Gjalund decided it would probably be easier to just not ask about what she meant. Going back to Solstheim and carrying a walking divine intervention on board his ship was already difficult enough to understand.

Things got even harder to understand half an hour later, when the other two showed up. Quite literally out of nowhere.

The sails had been unfurled, the anchor hauled up, and the Northern Maiden well on its way. A stiff breeze had meant that they were making a good pace, and Windhelm had already dwindled to a blot on the horizon. The Dragonborn, despite Gjalund's invitation to go below and choose a cabin (he might as well give her the choice, seeing as he'd overcharged her) had remained standing at the prow, arms folded, tail twitching, eyes fixed on the place where Solstheim would appear. He didn't have the heart to tell her it would be a few days yet.

Gjalund was about to approach her and offer her food – noon had come and gone while they'd been sailing – when, without warning, a voice sounded from behind him. A completely disembodied voice. Soft and low, somewhat wearied, yet strong at the same time.

'I think that's far enough,' it said.

With a hurriedly stifled yelp, Gjalund whirled around – noting, as he did so, that the Khajiit copied him, looking even more startled than he felt.

'Yes,' another voice agreed, also completely without a body to create it. This one was lighter, younger-sounding. 'She can't throw us out now.'

'This potion will be wearing off in a few seconds,' the first voice remarked, and a moment later, a woman blinked into view a short distance away – a Dunmer woman in jet black armour made from interlocking plates, a dark cape over her shoulders, and… Gjalund shook himself and looked again. No, he hadn't been mistaken. She had purple eyes.

An instant later, another woman appeared next to her, in a plume of light that signified the expiry of a spell. This one was a human, a Nord, with uncannily pale skin, black hair, and – by the Nine, were her eyes glowing? Not glowing an inviting colour either – a reddish orange that made Gjalund quickly decide looking away would be more comfortable.

'There,' she said, rubbing her hands together.

Gjalund glanced at the Dragonborn, and saw that the Khajiit's fur was bristling. 'What are you two doing here?'

The Nord turned to the Dunmer, raising her eyebrows. 'Told you.'

'Never doubted you,' the elf replied.

The Dragonborn's tail started to swish, and little as he knew of her species, Gjalund was aware that this was not a good sign. 'I said that you weren't to come with me!'

'We know you did,' the Dunmer said calmly. 'We just didn't listen.'

'Do you ever, when it's important?' The tail was now swinging sharply back and forth. 'I told you, I told you this was something I had to do alone-'

'No such thing,' the Nord said breezily, brushing a few snowflakes off her armour - armour, Gjalund realised suddenly, that he recognised. It was the gear the Dawnguard wore. 'Come on, J'shana. We know what it's like doing someone on your own, and we know you, and we know you don't want to.'

The Dragonborn drew in a long, deep breath. 'Karliah. Serana. Please. I… those cultists came for me. Enough people have already been put in danger because they want me dead –'

'Didn't I say she'd use that argument?' the Dunmer interrupted, and the Nord nodded.

'Merrunz's claws!' The tail was now well and truly lashing, and Gjalund had to struggle to stop himself from backing away when the Khajiit turned to him. 'Please, Captain – turn the ship around.'

'Don't even think about it,' the Nord ordered him.

'And we are paying for our passage,' the Dunmer added, fishing a coin purse from a satchel attached to her belt and tossing it to Gjalund with a careless flick of her hand.

The Nord grinned. 'See? We're paid for. He can't take us back.'

Gjalund untied the purse strings and peered inside. He didn't have to count the heap of gold that graced his eyes with its presence to know that it was more than he would get from carrying the Maiden full to the brim with passengers between Windhelm and Solstheim three times.

He thought about pointing this out, but decided against it. If these weird-eyed women were going to give his nerves as many shocks as they had in the minute they'd been there in every subsequent minute of this voyage… well, they deserved to pay a bit extra, really.

'I'm not turning around,' he said firmly. 'It takes enough time to get this ship out of port as it is, and I'd have to pay the docking fee again.'

The Nord shrugged. 'You don't want to empty the captain's purse so soon after we just filled it, right?'

The Khajiit's response was to let out a strangled hissing sound and press her hands against her face. She stood there for some moments, and then something happened that surprised Gjalund more than odd, masked men making him forget an entire voyage, more than Akatosh's chosen one asking to travel on his ship, more than two women with peculiar eyes appearing out of thin air. A soft sob came from behind those silver-furred hands. Quickly followed by another.

'J'shana,' the Nord whispered, running forwards to grasp the Khajiit's arms, and the Dunmer turned to Gjalund with a suddenly frosty expression.

'I think our friend would appreciate some privacy,' she said, and Gjalund was only too happy to vanish below decks, clutching the coin purse in both hands.

He really hadn't wanted to go back to Solstheim. And he wasn't sure he wanted to spend a journey with these three… oddities, either.

Still, it would be something to tell the grandkids. If he ever had any. And if he survived the weirdness this journey was bound to throw at him.

It had started with the masked strangers. And it had escalated all too quickly.

Odd people were a Septim a dozen in Riften. J'shana had lived there for ten years now, and she was used to having strangers appear on the streets. As for the actual residents of Riften, well, they included a Dunmer with an Argonian name, a woman who liked to enthuse about how exciting it was to watch a poison blind someone, and… Gods, she herself could be counted as one of the stranger inhabitants of the place. Only a handful of people in the city knew that she was Dragonborn, but the fact that they were in the dark about her being the dragon-souled chosen one of Akatosh didn't mean she wasn't them.

So while the men in the masks made her blink and look again, surprised, they definitely didn't worry her. Not at first.

She wasn't really in the mood to be worried, anyway. The day had been spent in Solitude, pulling off a daring and eventually successful heist in Castle Dour. The thrill of the mission and the euphoria that came with pulling it off were still smouldering cheerfully inside her even after the long carriage journey back, and besides, she had the company of a friend. More than a friend; a sister. A soulmate, almost. J'shana knew that word had romantic connotations, and that meant it wasn't quite the one she was looking for, but it was the closest translation to the word in Ta'agra she would have used to describe what Karliah meant to her.

Who else, of those who could have accompanied her on that heist, could have known from nothing more than the slight twitching of her tail, not even a signal, just a movement, that there were exactly three guards in the room up ahead of them? Who else could have been able to communicate to her, just by a raised eyebrow, that the floor ahead of them would creak under their weight no matter how lightly they placed their feet, and that it would be better for J'shana, silent-walking Khajiit as she was, to walk across it? J'shana and Karliah knew each other, from shared battles and pain and laughter, better than anyone except the men they loved – Karliah refused to refer to Gallus as the man she 'had loved' – and there was no other friend whose company J'shana treasured more.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. There was one other friend who ranked equally, but this was a heist, so… the presence of a fellow thief was preferred.

So it had been an enjoyable mission overall, and J'shana was not, in any way, in a mood for troubles. They'd been in and out of Castle Dour without being seen or heard, bearing General Tullius's personal collection of poetry with them - J'shana had no idea why someone wanted them stolen, but she was toying with the idea that Ulfric Stormcloak had either unexpected underworld links or equally unexpected hidden depths - and it had provided her with plenty of reading material on the journey home. She and Karliah had chuckled over their theories, and the more amusing moments of their mission, and J'shana had smiled to see her Dunmer sister so obviously content. All too often, the look in those indigo eyes was a haunted one, and a smile was too rare to come to the grey-skinned face.

And there was no need to worry about the public's prying eyes. The people of Skyrim would be disappointed, J'shana knew, if they knew that their saviour lived a double life. If rumours of a feral dragon reached her ears, J'shana would be geared up in her dragonscale armour and spurring Frost towards the creature's lair without hesitation. If the Dawnguard called on her to help them clear out a cave of vampires, she'd do the same. But that didn't mean she wanted the attention people seemed so eager to give to the Dragonborn. She'd tried to keep her name secret for a reason. It had still got out somehow, but that wasn't so bad – she trusted the Guild to keep their leader's secret safe. Once she'd learned that the name J'shana had been identified as the Dragonborn's, she'd called a meeting, revealed the truth about herself, and asked them never to say a word.

'I came to the Guild to escape the Thalmor,' she told them. 'If they ever found me, they'd kill me and anyone associated with me. I came here to vanish, and I found a family down here. I'm throwing myself on the loyalty of that family now. If any of you reveal that your Guildmaster is the Dragonborn, the Thalmor will come. And it's not just me they'll hurt.'

And no one had said a thing. All of them had promised never to. And J'shana believed them. She'd worked with these people for too long to doubt them. Still, she'd continued with her precautionary measures. Karliah was the only member of the Guild who knew what she naturally looked like; whenever she went into the Flagon, right from the beginning, she'd used a black plant dye to obscure her most distinctive features. None of her Guildmates had ever seen the white patches on the back of her ears, or the distinctive spiral stripe on either side of her face. And if she had to speak to a stranger on Guild business, she'd affect an Elsweyr accent, refer to herself in the third person. As far as possible, the Guildmaster and the Dragonborn were going to remain separate people.

She was firmly in her Guildmaster persona now, with her markings disguised and her black leathers worn hidden beneath her travelling clothes. She knew that many of the people of Riften knew she was associated with the Guild, but since these people also knew the city's industry had boomed since the Guild's comeback, they weren't about to complain about her presence. And the rest just knew her as the only Khajiit citizen of the town, and the Jarl's Thane. So she moved through the streets comfortably as the night slowly fell, Karliah a pace behind her, nodding to Madesi, smiling at the young son of Talen-Jei and Keerava as he rushed around the marketplace, tossing a few coins to Snilf. There was no danger here. Why should there be?

So at first, her gaze glossed over the two dark-robed, mask-wearing people standing near the entrance to the Temple of Mara. Until they moved to block her path.

Instantly, J'shana was on alert; strange people were only safe to be around in Riften if they didn't want anything to do with her. Neither of the two of them seemed armed, but those robes spoke of magical affinity. J'shana glanced at Karliah, and saw her own trepidation and suspicion reflected in her friend's eyes.

'You there!' One of the two mask-wearers strode towards J'shana, the voice – a woman's – strident and demanding. 'Are you the one they call Dragonborn?'

J'shana felt her heartbeat falter.

This was what she'd dreaded, above everything else. For someone to raise a challenge like this to her publicly. If she'd been undyed, undisguised, openly wearing her dragonscale armour, she wouldn't have denied their words – there wouldn't have been any point. But she needed so badly to hide the truth when she was wearing this guise, living this role. These people didn't look like Thalmor, but who knew where those murderers had spies?

'Dragonborn?' She laughed. 'That one may be giving my people a better name, and I'll gladly partake in that. But I can't lay a claim on her title, much as I'd like to.'

She made her Elsweyr accent a little stronger than normal, but there were people around here who knew the way she usually spoke, so there was no point in going the whole way, using 'this one' and 'Khajiit.' Still, this might be enough to convince these… people… to leave her alone.

'Do not try to lie. We know your truth.' The other masked one, a man this time, extended an accusing finger in her direction. 'We know that you have tried to steal that title.'

'I don't make any kind of pretence that I'm the Dragonborn,' J'shana snapped. 'Get out of my fur.'

'Whoever you're looking for, go elsewhere,' Karliah said, her voice quiet yet, as always, commanding, 'She isn't who you want.'

The masked woman's fists clenched. 'Your lies fall on deaf ears!' she snarled. 'We know you are the False Dragonborn! You shall not stand in the way of the true Dragonborn's return. He comes soon, and we shall offer him your heart!'

Several questions threw themselves into J'shana's mind in such quick succession she had to struggle for a moment to work out what they all were. Firstly, why were these people so certain that she was the one Skyrim knew as the Dragonborn? Secondly, what in Alkosh's name did they mean by a true Dragonborn? And thirdly, how was she going to get them to leave her alone?

She wasn't in enough mental turmoil, though, to miss the woman's next words. 'When Lord Miraak appears, none shall stand to oppose him. All shall bear witness!'

Miraak?

The word was Draconic. Portal. No, J'shana thought, portal was miiraak – Miraak would be a compound name. Allegiance Guide.

All her instincts told her to demand answers from this woman, to ask her who Miraak was and what he wanted with the Dragonborn. But she couldn't risk it.

'I don't give a skeever about your Miraak,' she snapped. 'I'm not opposing anyone, and I don't claim to be the Dragonborn.'

She became aware, suddenly, that Karliah had vanished from her side. It didn't worry her. Karliah was not the kind of person to abandon her when she was in trouble, so Karliah had not abandoned her. It was simple as that. No, the Dunmer would be putting some kind of plan into action.

A moment later, her suspicions were confirmed as her Guildsister rounded the marketplace wall, a trio of town guards in tow. When wearing her thief identity, guards were generally the last people J'shana wanted to see, but at that moment, they were most beautiful sight she'd ever set eyes on.

'What's your business here?' one of them demanded, marching towards the mask-wearers.

'Do not stand in our way,' the man snapped. 'We have come to silence the lies of the false Dragonborn, and see justice done in our Lord's name.'

J'shana let out a hiss. 'How many times do I have to say it? I'm not any kind of Dragonborn, false or true!'

'This woman is Thane of this Hold,' the lead guard said, drawing his sword. 'And you're disturbing the peace.'

'We're the ones who deliver justice in this city,' another added. 'Not you.'

The man's body tensed as if he were about to argue, but the woman stepped up and tugged at his arm. 'Let them listen to the trickster's falsehoods for now. We will have another time.'

They turned away and headed towards the city gates, casting looks back at J'shana as they went.

With a soft sigh of relief, though she knew this reprieve was only temporary, J'shana nodded toward the guards' leader. 'Thank you.'

'Just doing our duty, my Thane.' J'shana recognised the voice; this guard was one of those in the pay of the Guild. It was in his interests to see off anyone who threatened her. 'I'll send a man after them to make sure they're gone.'

J'shana sent silent thanks to the Divines as she watched the gates close on the strange pair, but it was clear from the woman's parting words that they intended to return. She pulled the knapsack containing General Tullius's poetry books down from her back. Her good mood had dissolved.

'Kar, can you take these to the Guild and log the mission for me?' She curled her tail around her legs, something she often found herself doing when on edge. 'I think I should get back home.'

'Of course.' Karliah shouldered the bag, her eyes filled with sympathy. 'Do you want me to keep this quiet?'

J'shana hesitated, then shook her head. 'No. The Guild will find out what happened soon enough. Tell them, and ask Bryn to station a watch if possible. If those people set one foot back inside the city, I want to know about it.'

Karliah gave a single, serious nod. 'And I'll see what can be done about putting out some feelers, finding out where they came from.' She pursed her lips thoughtfully. 'They sounded Dunmer to me.'

'Then let's not limit the search to Skyrim.' J'shana cast a glance in the direction of Honeyside. 'Thank you for doing this. And for… helping me keep it secret.'

Karliah's face grew more sombre still. 'No one deserves to be hunted,' she said quietly.

She adjusted the straps on the bag and turned to leave. 'I'll stop by tomorrow morning,' she said. 'Make sure everything's all right.'

With a parting nod, she broke into a run in the direction of the entrance to the Cistern.

J'shana breathed out slowly. Her friend spoke from experience, and it made a cold shiver run down her spine. How far would these odd, masked people go? Would they try to do to her what Mercer had to Karliah? Drive her away from her home? Slander her name? Take away the one she loved?

The thought made her throat run dry. These people knew, somehow, or had guessed, that she was Dragonborn. That meant they had the power to do all those things. And she had to do something to stop them before they could.

She'd seldom run so fast in her life as she did to Honeyside then.

This is the first of the bunch of short stories I'm going to be writing over the next month or so, which are all intended to explain more about my Dragonborns (and their overly complex backstories). This one will be about three or four chapters. I'm going for one of my favourite story formats here - describe a scene, then go back in time to explain the events that led up to it. Somehow J'shana is a magnet for these kinds of fic. XD

Next chapter will be up soon. Thanks for reading!