Chapter Text
I wake in a coffin.
I am so muzzy with sleep I don't even question it. I reach my hand out and give a gentle push, and the lid swings outward and open easily. The coffin is standing upright rather than laying down, so I only need to take a single step forward to find myself in a dim, cobblestone room.
Even with just that one movement I can already tell that something is wonky. My proportions are wrong, my limbs too long. My foot hits the ground somehow both sooner and later than I expected. My knee buckles and I almost trip but I save myself with a grace that is so natural but also so simultaneously alien to me. Is this one of those dreams where I can fly? I feel like I could fly right now.
I will it to happen, but nothing does. Something hums under my skin though.
I blink lazily, and notice that the shape of my eyes feels different, too. Sharper, squintier. Maybe they're squished into my pillow right now, in the waking world. I hope I don't wake myself up trying to smother myself in my sleep. It's so rare that I have lucid dreams; I want to savor this.
I become more aware as I slowly glance around, taking the room in.
It's a basement, the walls of which are strange, made of cobblestone rather than smooth concrete. Across from me is a familiar altar with a few dim candles on it.
Ah. I recognize this place. It's my basement in Skyrim. I've never had a Skyrim dream before.
...will I get to ride a dragon?
My thoughts are interrupted by the floorboards overhead creaking thunderously as someone runs across them. The trapdoor in the corner suddenly snaps open and a little girl's head pokes through, hair dangling upside down, beaming with a smile. "Are you up yet, mommy?" She says, squinting into the dim basement. She doesn't seem to be able to see me, even with the little bit of light present. "Come eat breakfast with us!" She demands cutely.
Belatedly, I realize she is probably talking to me. My character does have an adopted daughter, after all. Runa Fairshield.
"Coming!" I say loudly. My voice sounds strange...not my own. Runa finally starts squinting in my general direction at the sound of my voice.
"Hurry!" She squeals as she scrambles loudly to her feet. "Daddy said that we can have sweet rolls for breakfast today!" Her little voice trails away as she runs off. She leaves the trap door open behind her. Something about the beam of light that shines down through it just seems like a touch too bright for the first thing in the morning, but oh well.
I walk over to the ladder and start to climb.
As I do, the movement of my muscles wakes me more still, and I start to have a creeping doubt that this is a dream. I can feel the grain of the wooden ladder under my palms, I can feel the steely, confident shift of my muscles under my skin, moving easier than my body has moved in a decade or more. I can smell damp stone and carved wood and the fall smell of hay.
I can smell breakfast.
I stand blinking in my Skyrim house made real, the sunlight filtering through the windows bathing its wooden walls in an almost too bright halo. I am still standing there processing when Runa runs back up to me from the direction of the dining room, looking obscenely happy as she grabs my hand and starts dragging me back in the direction she came from.
"Come on, mommy! Hurry! Daddy said we can't start without you!" She says as she tows me along.
Oh fuck. Mommy? Daddy? My head spins. Oh fuck this is real. Is this real? I got isekied. I have a daughter now. Oh god, I wasn't prepared for this!
I pasted an awkward smile on my face as Runa pulled me into the surprisingly crowded dining room. I scanned the faces, and was able to identify most of them.
Balimund, my 'husband'. He was...a nord, I think? And the housecarl, a man whose name I don't remember. I want to say he's a breton? Maybe? The steward, whose name I also don't remember. My current follower. And my other adopted child, the Aretino boy. Runa ran ahead to join them, sitting at the boy's side, where they began elbowing each other like siblings.
It made for quite a full table.
Slowly, I approached and took the last empty seat at Balimund's side, at the head of the table. I glanced hesitantly up at him from the corner of my eye, and he noticed and smiled down at me. I smiled hesitantly back, and then turned to look at the spread.
Cheese and meat and bread, ale and mead, along with a plate full of the promised sweet rolls. It was...quite the breakfast. I slowly piled my wooden plate high, though I eyed the meat suspiciously. Unlike in the game, it didn't tell me what kind of meat it was just by looking at it. And I do recall that Skyrim characters are occasionally known for putting...some questionable cuts on their tables.
...was I going to get to see what mammoth snout tastes like? ...I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
Something brushes my thigh, and I almost jump out of my skin. Looking down, I see a huge shaggy dog that had been hiding under the table, had placed his chin upon my lap, and was now looking up at me mournfully. Fuck. I almost forgot about the dog.
The others chatted around me while I chewed thoughtfully. What are the implications of being isekied? I ponder to myself as I slip bits of mystery meat under the table for the dog to snap up.
...I would probably never see my family again. My real family, I mean.
Some of them I would probably be better off without, though I at least would have liked to have left them a note or something saying that I'll be alright.
Some of them I would miss like severed limbs.
My sisters, oh my little sisters...surely there is some win condition to being isekied that allows you to go home at the end?
...oh god. Was I going to have to defeat Alduin?! I hadn't even beaten Alduin in the game! How was I supposed to defeat him in real life?!
I was in the middle of taking a morse bite of mammoth cheese and having an existential crisis when there was a sudden knock at the door.
The table went quiet as everyone turned to look in the direction of the entry hall and the front door, most eyes then skittering back to look in my direction for my reaction. Belatedly, I realized that I must be viewed as the head of the household, socially. I stood awkwardly, saying, "I'll get it..." and then walking stiffly in the direction of the front door.
Oh god. This never happens in Skyrim! Who would be knocking on the door? What if it was some encounter and a fight was about to happen? I could probably just run away, but what would my family think about that? It wouldn't have mattered if this was still a game, but would they still be indifferent to me abandoning them now that they are real? Oh god I would have to try and fight whoever was at the door. I can't do this, do I even have my magic or weapons or...?!
It's too late to panic about it now. I've reached the front door, and I can feel the eyes of my Skyrim family on my back as I slowly reach my hand out for the knob. I get it over with quickly and yank the door open, and I hiss and squint as the red afternoon sun blinds me. There is a figure standing in the doorway, wearing heavy armor and with a long weapon strapped to their back. It's difficult to make out their features through how bright the light behind them is. My face feels hot, prickling like a sunburn wherever the light touches, and I raise a gloved hand to shield my eyes...
After a second, my eyes adjust a bit. The light looks a little less red, and I can make out the details of the man a little better. He is white, human...possibly a nord? Bearded. He is wearing heavy armor, though not any model I had seen in the game before. It was blue, for one. I immediately wanted to steal it. It was too bad my pickpocket skill was shit.
"Are you the one who put this building here?" He asks, sounding sirius and tense.
I mean...technically...sort of...?
"Yes...?" I reply hesitantly.
He is quiet for a moment, then he says, "You can't be here. Someone else owns this land. You need to move the building."
I gape at him a little. "Move the...move the building?!" I ask him incredulously. "How do you expect me to do that?!"
He grunts irritability. "The same way you got it here, I suppose." Then, he sighs, and says a little less stiffly, "May I come in? We have a lot to talk about."
I nodded wordlessly and stepped aside. He steps carefully into the building, his sharp gaze scanning his surroundings, the wooden floorboards creaking under the weight of his armor. He paused in the entrance hall, taking everything in. The display case with some forgettable quest sword in it, the weapons racks with magic staffs propped up in them. The easy view of my Skyrim family seated at the table for breakfast, seven pairs of eyes staring down the length of it at the stranger in the entrance hall.
I walked ahead of the guy and into the dinning room, pulling up an extra chair.
"Don't bother." The man in the blue armor said from the doorway. Apparently he had unthawed from the entryway and had stepped carefully to join us in the dining room when I wasn't looking. "Most wooden chairs can't take the weight of my armor. I'll stand." He explained.
I paused and looked at him. I had never heard of anyone in Skyrim having that problem before...but then again, I had never seen this armor before, and Skyrim has also never been real before. Maybe the game's weight mechanics don't apply in the real world?
I hesitantly nodded and put the chair back along the side of the wall.
Balimund hummed thoughtfully. "You have a bit of talent at Enchanting, Des. What if you tried putting a Fortify Carry Weight Enchantment on it?"
I paused and stared at him. Does he not know anything about Enchanting, or does Enchanting work differently in reality than it does in the confines of gameplay? "I'm not certain that would work..." I replied hesitantly. "...but I'll give it a try later."
For now, I retake my seat at the head of the table, but angle my chair to mostly face our guest, who had slowly and stiffly been looking between each of the table's occupants as he listened to us speak. I noted his gaze lingered on a few, including the children, much to my displeasure.
"So..." I said, while reaching out with one hand to fiddle absently with a fork. "...you said there was some problem with my ownership of the land...?" I took a deep breath in, squared my shoulders, and tried to channel my inner dragonborn for a little confidence. "...because I'll have you know I paid the Jarl eight thousand gold for this land, and building this house probably cost twice that! So there had better not be a problem!" I blustered.
(...my inner dragonborn might or might not have been named Karin.)
"Hampton County records list this land as owned by Edward Stansfield. Even besides that, there are certain laws about parahumans owning property in the United States that have not been followed..."
"Wait wait wait...did you say parahumans?" I asked, stupefied. Hampton County? Parahumans? The United States? Those are not words that should be in any Skyrim native's lexicon.
The man hesitated at my questions, and then said, "...yes. I assume, considering the circumstances of things, that most if not all of you are parahumans."
The others started exchanging confused glances with each other. I just sat there in stunned silence for a moment, then abruptly stood. "Please excuse me for a moment." I said as I strode back towards the front door. I heard a murmur break out behind me as I reached it and threw the door open again. Once again, I was blinded by a red flash of what I had previously thought was high noon sunlight, but as my eyes began to clear I realized it was actually pretty early, the sun fairly low on the horizon and dew still dripping from blades of grass.
But the heat of even that little bit of sunlight felt like sunburn on my face.
Oh. Yah. My character was a vampire, wasn't she?
...which means I am a vampire now, too.
What was it that bit of flavor text says about vampires during the day? 'Your blood boils in the sunlight'?
...I really hope that's not literal.
I scan the surroundings and find the house now occupies a fairly woodsy field. It's wilderness at a glance, but it is definitely not the untamed wilderness that was supposed to be there. It's not the Scandinavian-esque wilds of Skyrim, but the bland backyard-esque wilds of rural-suburban America. The air doesn't taste fresh like I would have expected of a world untouched by pollution, there is a plane leaving white trail behind it overhead, and there is a shiny blue motorcycle parked on the grass out front, along with a black van bearing a white PRT logo. There are two, heavily armored SWAT-esque figures in the cab of the armored van that turn to look at me through the thick windows as I burst outside. They look tense.
Behind the illegally parked vehicles is an asphalt road lined with telephone poles, and behind that are a few modern houses across the way. As my eyes slip away from the troopers to the houses across the way, several curtains flicker quickly closed. I might have seen a camera phone from one of them. Our new neighbors, apparently.
A winnie from the side draws my eye, and I turn to see my Skyrim horse chilling in my Skyrim stable on what appears to be a relatively modern American back country road on maybe Earth Bet.
Great. I'm going to have to come up with a name for the horse now, aren't I? I think with a slight edge of hysteria.