It was a sunny spring afternoon in Whiterun. Ragnar Gustafson and Ricard Boileau, two young adventurers on their way to call in on the Jarl’s steward in hopes of being offered paying work, had stopped partway up the steps leading to Dragonsreach to admire the view to the east. They were new to the city, drawn here by the reputation it held across much of Tamriel as a place where things were happening.
Far off beyond the White River, in among the mountain peaks, Ricard’s sharp eyes picked up movement. He was the archer in their band of two, while burly Ragnar handled the heavy blade work. The two had struck up a partnership only a year before, but already they had enjoyed much success pillaging tombs and recovering stolen property from bandits.
“Hey,” Ricard said, nudging his companion. “Isn’t that a dragon?” He pointed, and as the pair stared into the distance Ricard realized there were two flying shapes. And they were coming this way. As they stood gawking a Whiterun city guard paused, amused at their unsophisticated behavior.
“That’s not just any dragons,” he told the pair. “Watch and you’ll see somethin’ you won’t forget.” The three stood there as the dragons drew closer, clearly visible now as the rays of the westering sun sparkled on their scales. One was red, and much larger than its companion. The smaller dragon was bronze in color, and probably no more than 20 feet from nose to tail.
Below the walls they were looking over was a farmstead with an enormous one-story farmhouse, and a tall cistern tower standing between the house and their vantage point. As the two young men gaped in disbelief, the larger dragon and the smaller came down in the farmyard – landing in an open space between tower and house. Then the two of them shrank in an instant, to be replaced by a naked woman and a tall, similarly naked youth. The two hurriedly stepped to the cistern tower and grabbed robes, which they put on before going into the house.
Ragnar and Ricard stood transfixed, hardly believing what they had just seen. That woman had looked awfully tasty, at least from this distance. Finally they turned to the guard, who was grinning at them in satisfaction. “Wha..?” was all Ricard managed to get out. The guard’s smile got even broader. “What you’ve just seen is The Dragonborn. That’s right, the one what saved all of Nirn from the World-Eater, Thane Katja Dragonspring herself.”
“Of course, that was all upwards of 16 years ago now. I was just a tad when it happened, but there’s books you can read that’ll tell you all about it. She’s got to be close to 40, but she sure don’t look it! That boy’s her son, they say he’s dragonborn too. Must be, if he can turn into a dragon like that. They say she had a mess of dragon kids, too. One of ’em lives right there at the farm with ’em, at least he used to before he got so big. Those kids must be why nobody hunts dragons anymore.”