Author's Note: First of all, if you haven't finished the Companions quest-line, you might not want to read this. There are spoilers contained. If you skipped this author's note and read it anyway, then that's your problem. Don't say I didn't try.
Without further ado, read on, my friends ;). I have finally crossed over into the wonderful world of crossovers. Enjoy ^_^
To Be a Dragon
At last, they were home. Two half-dead Companions trudged through the front doors of Jorrvaskr, exhaustion dulling their senses and sharpening their tempers. Particularly in the case of Dovahkiin, dragon-born now turned werewolf. With an angry tug, he rid himself of his helm and tossed it across the room, shaggy blonde hair spiked with gore, blue eyes wild and furious. Luckily there was no one else present at the moment, or it might have hit some unfortunate bystander. Gauntlets were the next to go, and they suffered the same fate as their master's poor, discarded helmet.
As it was, Aela, Dovahkiin's shield-sister, had to duck in order to avoid being pelted by flying pieces of armor. Under normal circumstances, such a sight probably would have been funny, but considering that both of them were covered in various human body parts, and Dovahkiin had a really huge sword strapped to his back, not laughing might have been the smarter thing to do at present time.
"What the hell, you guys. How could you let me go on a rampage through Whiterun? How did you drag my unconscious body so far out into the wilderness? It was snowing, why didn't you put my clothes back on for me? Why…"
Aela the Huntress scowled with annoyance, red hair fanning out behind her as she whipped her head in Dovahkiin's direction.
"Slow down. I can't answer all of these questions at once. One at a time."
Dovahkiin gave her a dirty look, but did as he was told. "Fine. Why did you let me go on a rampage?"
"It was funny. Next question."
His gaze darkened further. "How did you carry me so far in such a short amount of time?"
"I'm a werewolf. Super-human speed and what not. Next."
"Why was I naked? I mean, if you were in werewolf form, I guess I could understand why it would be a little hard to dress me. Was that it?"
Aela chuckled. "Nah, I just liked seeing you naked."
Dovahkiin rolled his eyes. "Real mature. Maybe I should ask Skjor what his reasons were. Oh wait, I can't, can I? He's a little too dead for that. Maybe I'm wrong, but loss of soul might leave him incapacitated for a while."
Despite her former good-cheer, Aela couldn't help but deflate a bit at that statement. "All right, you've made your point. No need to be snide."
"Yes there is! This was a lot more trouble than it was worth. If I'd known massacre would be on the night's agenda, I never would have accepted your offer. Kodlak was right. This is a curse. What was I thinking? What do I need to be a werewolf for? I could kill you with my voice. I'm a fucking dragon, wench! A dragon! How many guys can say that?"
At this, a young man with a dark head of hair swaggered up to the pair of them, seemingly appearing from out of thin air. Blood was smeared in a line across the bridge of his nose. He sported a full beard, and his eyes were deep amber. A mage's staff was gripped in his right hand, and his lips were tilted slightly upward, as if he were accustomed to smiling most of the time.
Currently, however, the mystery man seemed rather put out. With an expression that was more reverent than anything, he shook his head, almost as if Dovahkiin were a God that he was trying desperately to understand.
"Lucky bastard," the young mage quipped, voice tinged with envy. "Why does everyone else get to be a dragon? Oooh. Can you fly, breathe fire, and all of that other cool stuff?"
"Hawke." An Imperial soldier was suddenly at the man's elbow, leading him towards the door with an air of annoyance. Dovahkiin and Aela could only stare, slack-jawed. "Would you stop wandering off? Can we go back to Thedas now, or do I need to keep up this charade? People are starting to suspect. Whenever I speak, random men and women start running after me, screaming. 'Fenris, come back!'"
"Fine, fine. I just wanted to ask him what it was like to be a dragon. Some people have all the luck."
With that, they made their way to the door, the Imperial…or…whatever he was, bickering with this strange dragon-worshipper. Before they were out of ear shot, he thought he heard the one called Hawke shooting off suggestive comments about elves, slave masters, and something called lyrium, but Dovahkiin didn't even want to think about what the hell that was supposed to mean.
A full minute passed, then another. The two strangers were long gone, but Dovahkiin still found himself completely incapable of coherent thought. If someone were to sneak up on him in that moment, he doubted he would have been able to defend himself in the least.
Aela squeezed her eyes shut, hiding her face in her hands. "I'm completely content to leave that question un-answered. Forever."
"…yeah, good choice. I'm just going to go to bed now, and pretend this entire night never happened, if you don't mind."
"I should probably do the same."
I had to. Oh Maker, I had to. These two worlds are so similar; I have a whole truck load of silly crossover ideas for them.
The Dragonborn idea is frickin' badass. Seriously. My first thought was that Hawke would be jealous ;), because we all know he's dying to be a dragon. That somehow led to this story, and here we are :p.
And, as far as the Fenris joke goes, any Dragon Age fan knows that Gideon Emery, who voices him, plays several parts in Skyrim as well. I had to use that somehow.