I do not own neither the Elder Scrolls, nor Worm. These belong to Bethesda and Wildbow, respectively.

Taylor screamed.

Trapped in her locker, locked in with filth – used female hygiene products and insects, not to mention her own vomit, blood and panic, Taylor screamed. She had pleaded at first, begged her tormentors to let her out, promised that she would tell no one if only they opened the door. Emma, her once-best friend had only laughed harder at that – so had all of them. The Trio, Emma, Sophia and Maddison had mocked her trough the metal that separated them, telling her that she would learn her place. The hanger-on, many, many in the same class, had laughed. So she had threatened, yelled that they would go to jail, that this was too far, that they would not get away with it. Sophia had answered then, told her how no one would believe her – not weak, pathetic, loner Taylor. Then they left. And Taylor screamed.

In one reality, this would have been when a cosmic entity offered her less than a thought, gifting her power that would, eventually, set her on the path of saving not only her own planet, but all alternative worlds in that particular cluster of the vast multiverse. She would have travelled a path of lies, a road of good intention that would led her through Hell and back until she, broken and fragile but victories, could have lived the remains of her life as she pleased.

This was not that reality. A cosmic entity did indeed take notice of her – saw what she had been, in a childhood of love and friendship. What she was – broken, but refusing to truly surrender just as she refused to share her misery out of equal parts fear and kindness to the last one who really mattered to her. And finally, He saw what she had the potential to be, what she could grow to become, if presented with the possibilities, the necessities, and the means. He saw her as a steadfast friend, a saviour to not only her own world, but to another, as a Hero among Legends.

Akastosh, Dragon God of Time, saw in her His Lastborn Child.

When Taylor woke up, she was in a carriage, beside a rebellious jarl, his faithful guard and a horse-thief, all slated for the headsman's block. Her misfortunes and adventures alike would echo across the continent of Tamriel for Eras to come; to some she would be a terror without equal, the Dragon of the North whom could raze castles with her Voice alone, or with a quiet whisper in shady corners send those of ill repute to strip a homestead bare. To others she was a Shield-Sister to whom many a jug of mead was cheerfully raised in the hall, with songs of her deeds being played by the fire. Yet others, more solemnly and with great admiration, would call her Archmage, and marvel at the skill with which she mastered the arcane. But all who knew her, would also know her under another title, be them friends of foes. A name revered and feared throughout the ages, for always where those that bore it a catalyst for great change and greater upheavals, as it was Shouted from the highest peak on the continent:

Dov-ah-kiin.

But this is not the tale of how Taylor became the Last Dragonborn, of her deeds and allies, many though they may be. For this is a tale of heroes and villains most unlike any that Nirn has to offer. For through the five years she spent on Nirn, through the hardships and the triumphs, Taylor did not age -she was not of Nirn, and Akatosh did not intend to force her stay. And so it is, beyond the defeat of the World Eater, after slaying the Vampire Lord and as the meeting between the Last and the First of the Dragonborn comes to a close…

…that Taylor woke up in a hospital bed, her Dad sleeping in a chair beside her.

After all, though the darkness of one world may have passed, the legend still grows.

And Earth-Bet will know, that the Dragonborn's come.

AN

Well, well, well. I actually published something here. Who knew?

This is an idea I've been playing with for a while now – for now it will be a One Shot, but we'll see if I keep writing. If anyone with more skill at writing than I feel inspired to write the story, they are free to do so. I would however appreciate a nod in my direction, and a notice so that I can read that fic in turn.

~ Silvar