Hello readers! Well, this is my "first" fanfic, and as you can see, English is not my first language.

After much procasting, I finally started writing this fic. So, please, every comment is welcome (except flames), and if you notice errors, all help is welcome.

Chapter 01 - The Dragon Never Sleeps - Part 1

Once again dawn arrives in the cold lands of Skyrim. Winter was nearer the end, but from time to time it still snowed in the province, especially in the higher areas, as it was last night. Deer came out of their hiding places to look for the buds that were slowly emerging beneath the thin snow, and some of the predators tried their luck by hunting small animals that were still lethargic.

The date was 4E 207 14 of First Seed, thus making six years since the civil war in Skyrim ended up resulting in the secession of the province from the great Empire with the help of the mythical Dragonborn. Life did not change much for the common people, they only changed the imperial laws by nord laws and they returned to worship Talos.

But to the Dragonborn, this was just something so far away that he didn't have to worry about. He slowed down after stopping so many catastrophic events, preferring a quieter life in his mansion in the southwest of Eastmarch. He worked in his forge, visited his colleagues in Whiterun and Windhelm, and, of course, took care of his family.

With white skin and black hair like most of his people, the Breton got out of bed and began to make a simple series of stretches, a routine he acquired even before he left High Rock. After that, he went to the kitchen and dining room where he met Lydia, his faithful housecarl, and one of his adopted daughters, Sofie. The housecarl, already clad in her steel armor, smiled at her Thane, handing him a mug full of hot coffee, coming straight from Elsweyr.

"I know I always say that," said the Dragonborn, bringing the mug close to his face and breathing in the aroma of the imported drink, admiring its wonderful scent. "but that was the best buy I've ever made ... I need to give a bonus to those Khajiits." And he began to drink, shivering with the sudden surge of energy in his body.

"Yes, my lord, you always say that ... but I do not care, you're right after all." Lydia then went back to eating her breakfast.

"Good morning father, did you sleep well?" Asked the daughter of the thane, already dressed in a blacksmith's apron to return to work on the forge of the family in some new invention.

"... I would have slept, had it not been for a certain 'expert of Dwemers' to be hammering all night in her inventions ..." he growled in mock anger, sipping his coffee. But then his face changed to a more cheerful one as he picked up a Snowberry Crostata and took small bites.

"Ha ha ha ... You know I need to finish my work for Calcelmo within three days, if I want to continue studying," she replied, drinking a mug of water.

"I very much doubt that he does it, after all, he depends on me to get a direct translation of Falmer's source ... besides the many contributions we gave him." he went back to eating, enjoying the silence while it lasted. When his two other sons woke up, the house would be livelier and much louder. "Well, I was thinking of visiting Master Paarthurnax ... in addition to meeting Master Arngeir and the other Greybeards. Are you going to get some more sleep or will you stay in the forge?" but Sofie only gestured, drawing attention to her clothes, which made the father roll his eyes.

The table continued in silence for a few more minutes, until childish laughter and small barks were heard from the room above. The sound of heavy footsteps on the wood and the clawing of paws announced the arrival of the rest of the breton's family in the kitchen. The first to arrive was a little elf, dark gray skin and red eyes, with black hair in a simple short cut and wearing a set of shirt and pants in light gray and blue colors. He is Edril Dulenar Dumont, Richard's third foster son. At his feet followed his faithful companion: an Ice Wolf Cub named Sottuz, White Claw/Blade in Dovahzul, the language of dragons. The pup and young Dunmer are inseparable, always playing together or with their siblings.

Behind the pair, another child descended the stairs, making merry laughter as she held a red wolf cub with black paws and white belly. The child was an elf, as could be seen through the pointed ears, but the color of her skin was so white that it resembled the snowy peaks of Skyrim or the softest clouds. Her hair was a pale yellow color and her eyes looked like the famous ice that never melted, Stahlrim, of so blue they are. Bisia Anyammis Dumont might as well pass as a High Elf with the rare condition of albinism, this being her 'official' history, but she is the first Snow Elf to be born in generations from an ambitious project of her adoptive father in order to prevent the total extinction of this ancient species, which by the actions of the Dwemers became what are now known as Falmers. This morning she wore a blue brocade gown of golden color and a blue skirt with beige prints, a gift from her 'aunt' Brelyna Maryon. And in her hands, Sahqoah, or Red Huntress, a Red Pit Wolf Cub, yawned in her owner's lap. Just like her white 'brother', she quickly hooked up with the little elf and they never separate.

"Good morning daddy!" shouted Edril, laughing while running to embrace his father, and then doing the same to the two other occupants of the kitchen. "Good morning, Sofie, good morning Auntie Lydia!"

"Good morning, daddy, sister and Aunt Lydia!" Bisia shouted afterwards, hugging everyone after putting her wolf on the ground, who started running with her brother to the small bowl where they had food for the two of them.

Returned the various "Good morning!", the two children sat at the table and began to eat, while the elders talked about various subjects, with children asking and giving their opinions from time to time. With the end of the first meal of the day, Sofie headed for the forge attached to the side of the mansion, and the father and children began to do the ordinary day-to-day tasks, leaving Lydia to make the rounds around the property. Passing almost half a hour, the breton took his children to the porch to catch some sun and play a little in the snow, taking his faithful crossbow if some beast wanted to try his luck, and a book to pass the time. He smiled to see them playing with their toys and wolf cubs: the peace it brought in their spirit, both human and dragon, was one of the best sensations in the world. Feeling the bench where he was rocking with the weight of someone sitting, Richard looked to the side and picked up a mug of hot coffee, courtesy of Lydia who had just finished her round.

"After so many battles and adventures ... who would say that moments like this would give me so much peace ..." Richard said, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall of the house.

"A warrior does not live his whole life on a battlefield, my Thane." and the housecarl replied, taking a sip of her coffee. "Sometimes they need to stop for a few moments like these."

"...W-where did all this wisdom come from, Lydia?" the breton pretended to be surprised, but it was no more than a joke that Lydia went on.

"Well, I am a woman of many talents, my dear lord," she replied, making a sensual pose ... which didn't work well since she was wearing heavy steel armor. But it didn't matter: they both laughed at the joke they shared.

The moment of relaxation was short-lived, however: a gust of wind from the east began to blow toward them. Normally, this is not uncommon, since the road below that cuts the mountain channels the wind. But when the two wolf cubs stop playing out of nowhere, sniff the air, and start barking ... well, that was a good reason for Richard to take a more serious stance. He rose from the bench and began to watch eastward, looking for what would have caught the pups' attention. Good weather without snow helped him notice a crowd of dark shapes coming from the direction of Uttering Hills Cave. This was really suspect, and fearing for the worst, quickly gave orders to his housecarl, who was already standing, sword in hand.

"Lydia, quick, take the twins in and bring Sofie ... this does not seem to me to be a simple caravan that got lost ..." he then reached down and picked up his crossbow, loading it and leaving it in readiness.

"Edril, Bisia, let's go inside, now." the serious tone of the nord cut off any argument from the children, who without delay followed the warrior into the house. As she led the children safely, the dragonborn stepped off the porch and began to walk toward the 'visitors', wanting to intercept them as far from their home as possible.

As he drew nearer, he began to recognize the long black robes with gold details, the green metallic glass armor, and the yellowish skin of the figures walking toward him: Thalmors. With the defeat of the empire, the Thalmors were practically expelled from Skyrim by kicks and swords. The sight of a platoon with more than two dozen High Elfs so inside of Skyrim's territory is alarming in itself, since they are literally barred from entering. But when he saw who led the way to his house, there was no doubt why they were there. It was not a surprise attack against Skyrim, the first of a new war, but something much simpler: revenge.

"Well well well ... If it isn't the most worthy First Ambassador Elenwen. Or should I say former First Ambassador, since you were expelled from Skyrim. What do I owe to this ... 'illustrious' visit?" asked the Breton, disgustedly taking his voice completely. He stood in front of the group and raised his hand, signaling to stop. "But it does not matter. Don't take another step, you are invading my property. Say what you want, and get out of here, Elenwen."

"You filthy mongrel! You destroyed all of our government's plans for Skyrim! And most of all, you humiliated me in my own embassy! " she was fuming, her hands closed in sheer hatred, and it was possible to see small arcane emanations coming out of her. She took a deep breath to calm herself and then changed her expression to one of those who had cornered his prey. "But, like you said ... it does not matter ... after all, we did not come just for you. Of course, eliminating you will be a great consequence, but no, no no ... we came because it came into our hands that you would be in possession of a ... very special being."

Richard's eyes widened. Of course, the knowledge that his daughter isn't an ordinary elf is not at all obscure, and he would not leave her locked up at home without living either. But the cover story she made would be enough to take away any suspicion of it! And also, who would be crazy to try to do something against the Dragonborn family?! "Okay, you officially signed your death warrants... no one touches on my daughter and leaves alive, right?" he squeezed the crossbow angrily, the wood of the stock grunting at the force applied. His irises, once green, began to acquire small golden flecks, and his pupil began to flatten like a reptile.

"Oh ... so it's true. You really have in your hands a pure Falmer child..." the elf said, taking on a more serious face. She raised her arms forward, a purple energy sphere in her left hand, and a flame on her right indicated of conjuration and destruction spells respectively. "Deliver the child, Dragonborn, and surrender, that we may leave the rest of your pathetic family alive. Or not. It does not matter, you're going to die anyway. "

A fierce smile took over his face, the anger he felt for someone wanting to attack his family distorting his sense of humor. "Hehe, funny... many tried to bring me down and none of them did ... Alduin, Harkon, Miraak ... they all fell. I doubt you are any different Elenwen. Bovul, Fahliille. Flee, elves. My Drem, patience is ending." Richard's mortal soul and the Dov, his draconian immortal soul can sometimes disagree and they go into dissent ... but when it comes to family, they are never more in tune.

"Words too bold for a dead man... ATTACK!" shouted the Thalmor, and her subordinates began to push past her. First came the warriors, armed with armor and swords of Glass, fifteen in all. The mages, dressed in black robes, began to circulate outside, to have a free field of vision for the breton, four of them. And with them, five more archers also wearing armor and bows of glas began to take aim.

The Dragonborn only took a deep breath, concentrating, bringing to light the power bestowed upon him by Akatosh. Kyraneth's gift to mortals to rebel against the dragons. Richard spoke only three words in the language of dragons, bringing to the world his soul, his essence, again after years in inactivity. "FUS RO DAH!"