When Skyrim's bards sang of the Dragonborn who would come to save them all, their prayer was for a man made in the image of Talos: a tall, mighty warrior with a Voice that could shake mountains. But the young woman who wakes up in the back of a prison wagon is neither tall nor mighty. Little and lost, she has mountains to climb before she discovers who, and what, she really is.

With a laugh, the Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild had claimed his birth was blessed by the goddess of love and beauty. It's hard to doubt anything said with that silver tongue of his. (Oneshot, fanfic of a fanfic; an alternative to chapter 38 of my longfic Improbable Stars. Rated M just to be on the safe side.)