Work Text:
Everywhere he looked, he could see blood and bodies, and fire and destruction. He knew that he was doing the best that he could, but he felt as though it was all for nothing as the dragon picked up another one of the guards and dropped it from a gratuitous height; the body fell with a crack, and the guard couldn’t even take their last breath as it was practically crushed out of them.
Izuku was running out of arrows, having to scrap by quickly just to find a good one to use. Tsukauchi was speaking almost frantically, trying to have everyone get a hold of their fears to take this damned dragon down. Guards were dying left and right. The entire area around the watchtower was on fire, the tower itself nearly crumbling with how much the dragon had destroyed it before they all got there.
It seemed like the battle was going to soon be over, and Izuku didn’t know how he would survive it—even his own body was shaking out of fear and adrenaline. He wanted to run, but he also wanted to fight, and he knew that, in just a few more moments, his body would decide which reckless path to take.
Either way, he knew that, whatever happened, it could result in his death—and he didn’t even know where he would go when the time would come.
Izuku watched as another guard was plucked off of the ground; watched as she fought with sword in hand despite being flown to her death; watched as she got a slice in before she was jolted and dropped her sword.
The sword which ended up landing at Izuku’s feet at an angle, blade stabbing the ground as though the earth was its foe.
The sword that was still somehow pristine near the hilt, and therefore, was reflecting Izuku’s own face right back at him.
Izuku could see himself breathing hard, sweat dripping from his forehead and onto the ground from being surrounded by the heat of the fire. He could see how his expression was panicked; yet, he could see the determination flowing through his eyes.
The noises all around him were suddenly muffled, as he heard memories of familiar words from a familiar mother resonate through him:
“You make me so proud, Izuku. You always have, and you always will.”
Little Izuku, 8 years old, was crying as he held his mother’s weak hand with his healthy, glowing own. “M-Mama…” he weeped, tears streaking down his face as he watched his ill mother speak her final words to him.
Inko smiled despite the pain she felt, and pulled her hand away to brush it against Izuku’s head. “You’re a smart boy,” she began, then trailed her hand down to rest against her son’s chest. “With the biggest heart I have ever known. The world is a dangerous, unpredictable place…but you’re strong. You’re a helper.”
Izuku sniffled, words lost in his throat as he soaked up his mother’s.
“You’re a hero. Even when you were scared…I have seen your body and heart move before you could think about it. Don’t lose that part of you, even after I’ve gone.” Inko let out a weak cough as she closed her eyes to rest. “I love you, Izuku. I always have…and I always will, even when I’m looking at you from above.”
That, alone, got him moving.
Izuku ripped the bow and pack of arrows off his back, throwing them to the ground before hastily picking the sword up with two hands and rushing into the watchtower. Behind him, he could hear Tsukauchi screaming at him to get back out and fight; but he couldn’t stop moving. He kept running up the tower, breathing heavily—practically wheezing—and before long, he was at the highest point the tower could be at.
At the same time, that dragon landed just below him, going after the other guards and Tsukauchi. The dragon was bloodied—from its own blood or the guards’, he didn’t know—snapping its maw and breathing fire at everyone.
Izuku gripped the sword handle with both of his hands, closing his eyes.
“Please, let this work…please, please…”
With a final breath, Izuku’s body moved quickly as he ran and jumped off of the tower.
He screamed loudly, lifting the sword above his head. “DIE!”
With all of the strength he could muster, he thrusted the tip of the sword down onto the dragon’s head and stabbed it. He could feel his arms dislocating at the impact, but he held on with all his might, not daring to let go even as the dragon let out a terrifying roar and began thrashing its head.
There was a deep voice coming from the dragon, who yelled in a panic, “Dovahkiin?! NOOO!”
A few seconds later, though, he was thrown off. He skidded across the rubble and grass before his back hit a broken part of the watchtower, punching the air out of his lungs. His vision went blurry and black around the edges, but he was able to see the dragon cry as it seized.
Izuku tried his best to take proper breaths in as he watched the dragon finally fall limp and land on the ground, causing the ground to shake.
The world seemed to stand still after the shaking settled.
Izuku could barely move with the state his body is in—shattered in many places, and his head dizzy from the pain and the impact—but he could move his eyes; and with his eyes, he saw Tsukauchi appear from the dust and smoke, rushing towards him with this look of worry. He’s only known him for a very short time, but he’s never seen Tsukauchi waver in his stoic expression, even when they were fighting. This made him worry.
He began to sit up, but a hand was quickly set on his shoulders, making him wince.
“Midoriya!” Tsukauchi exclaimed, his eyes grazing over his body as he checked his status. “Can you hear me? Are you okay?!”
Izuku took a minute to process his words, which sounded a bit muffled to him, but he nodded slowly. With a grunt, he responded with, “y…yeah. I’m fine.” He was slowly pulled up into a better sitting position. “But…what about you? And the guards..? Are you guys..?”
Tsukauchi himself had to process those words, before he let out a huff. “You nearly got yourself killed pulling that stunt, and you have the gall to ask if we’re okay?!”
Izuku frowned. “…Am I now allowed to be concerned?”
“You are…but you’re hurt. You need critical medical care—probably have Danica Pure-Springs take a look at you, too,” Tsukauchi sighed heavily. He looked behind him at the settling dust, where the dragon remained unmoved from its spot. “At least your reckless stunt was able to kill the dragon for good this time.”
The battlemage can’t help but smile through the pain.
He killed the dragon. He…actually saved someone‘s life—many people’s lives, actually.
He killed a fucking dragon.
Tsukauchi seemed to catch onto what was going through Izuku’s head, because he suddenly patted Izuku on the shoulder—to which he winced again—and nodded once. “You did well.”
Izuku closed his eyes and let out a strained laugh. “Thank you..!”
But the mini celebration was cut off when one of the guards shouted, “SOMETHING’S HAPPENING!”
Tsukauchi quickly turned around and drew his sword, standing in front of Izuku to shield him for whatever was going to happen.
Izuku opened his eyes again just in time to see the dragon start to burn and glow. His eyes widened at the sight, though it hurt to stare because the light was bright—brighter than any candlelight he’s ever casted for himself.
Suddenly, Izuku could feel himself start to warm up exponentially; though this warmth didn’t feel painful. Rather, it felt like sitting next to a campfire after trudging for hours through snow: comforting, and welcoming. He could feel how his broken bones were moving in his body, reshaping itself and fitting back into place with a seal.
He could feel a sudden surge of strength rush through him—a surge of energy that he had never felt before.
Izuku, suddenly compelled by whatever force was watching him, pushed himself off the ground; and as he stood, he could feel how sturdy his body was. The pain that he had felt was gone, and replaced with something much more powerful as he watched something burst out of the dragon and rush towards him in smoky streaks.
Tsukauchi whipped his head as he kept his eyes trained on where the light was heading. He was quick to dodge out of the way and look at Izuku. His eyes widened. “Midoriya, what..?”
Izuku’s whole body was suddenly hit with the energy. He was surrounded in streaks of blue and white and oranges, as though the strings came from the starry sky itself and was lacing itself through his body.
As he was continuously bathed in the glowing, mystic energy, he could hear a faint song play in his head. Something ancient, yet familiar at the same time. Something thrummed under his veins, his entire body pulsing in a rhythmic beat.
Fus—Force.
He could hear the words sung into his head, and in turn, feel it surging down his throat and into his heart. His vision went white temporarily, and he felt weightless where he stood—almost as though he was being lifted off of the ground as ancient power shifted through him.
Then, just as soon as it had happened, the energy had been depleted from the dragon had filled Izuku, and he let out a gasp as he was suddenly dropped from the ground and staggered when he landed.
He was gasping for air as he tried to calm down his thrumming heart and gather his racing thoughts.
What…just happened..?
That wasn’t like anything Izuku had ever felt or seen in his entire life. He felt refreshed, like he had bounced back from being sick and was now the healthiest he had ever been.
As he caught his breath, he could hear footsteps gathering around him, and frantic whispers and talking. One voice in particular, the hold guard captain, Eijirou Kirishima, was louder than the rest.
“No way…he’s a Dragonborn..!”
Izuku lifted his head up from that to look at Kirishima. “…Huh?”
Kirishima took a step forward, sliding his sword into its sheath, eyes wide with astonishment. “A Dragonborn…that’s what you are, isn’t it?”
Izuku’s eyebrows furrowed. “I-I…” He straightened his back so he was standing up properly. “I don’t…know..?”
What was a Dragonborn?
Izuku glanced behind Kirishima and towards the dragon, who was nothing more than a huge pile of bones; gone were its meat and scales, and left was a sword that had penetrated through its skull. He didn’t know just how deep the sword would penetrate.
Actually, seeing the sword now without the layers of flesh around it, he could see that he had carried a great sword. He had been able to lift it and thrust it down onto the dragon.
Perhaps the adrenaline, and mixed emotions pumping through him, gave him that boost he needed to pick it up.
Tsukauchi stepped forward and looked at Kirishima. “Dragonborn? That…can’t be possible. There hasn’t been one in years!”
Kirishima turned towards him quickly, as though the idea of not having a Dragonborn standing in front of him offended him. “Why wouldn’t it be true now? You saw what I saw: he sucked up the dragon’s soul! That thing isn’t getting up, and Midoriya is still alive!” He gestured to Izuku. “He’s more alive than he was just mere seconds ago!”
As the two began to argue about the probability of Izuku being a Dragonborn, Izuku wandered over to the bone dragon—specifically towards its wings—and passed the other guards that were still whispering around him. He took in its size, and how much bigger it was now that it was on the ground. He set his fingers against the bones, feeling how…different they were compared to the bones of a mammoth, or a human. The bones were warm, and dense when he knocked his knuckle against them.
It was both fascinating and scary at the same time.
Izuku then trailed the tips of his fingers along its anatomy; wherever he could touch. He even went inside its rib cage, finding that there were…former remains of human, mer, and creature alike. They looked clean, though, and Izuku had to stop himself from thinking about how a dragon’s stomach could work for the remaining clothes and coins to be left in such a state.
He hopped out of there shortly after.
He next found himself at the skull of the dragon, and it was there that he got to see the great sword up close.
The great sword was steel, and a sturdy one at that—he had no doubt that one of the two amazing blacksmiths in Whiterun were responsible for its craftsmanship. He trailed his eyes from its hilt, his fingers touching the cooling leather and steel, and made his way down to the blade.
It was there that he stopped, and looked at himself in its reflection once more.
His fear was gone, and replaced with renewed fascination. His eyes have…changed. Both metaphorically, and physically.
He always thought that his eyes were a fascinating color. While green wasn’t entirely uncommon, he never encountered many people with the same colors as his. Now, however, he might find it even hard to find someone with similar eyes like his.
While the green stayed, he could see shifting hues of orange at the bottom. Wisps of gold swirled in his iris like the soul of the dragon that was absorbed inside of him. This was different from a hazel color. It felt like more —something more…godly.
He touched his face, as though it were foreign. He got closer to look at this new adaptation of his.
It was….beautiful. His eyes were gorgeous.
He wasn’t able to stare for too long, as soon, there was a loud thundering noise that shattered through the entire sky like a thunderstorm. The ground shook once more, and he had to grip onto the sword for stability.
Then, clear as day, he heard a chant of voices come from the sky:
DOVAHKIIN!
He felt the words tremor through him, and it was as though something inside of him clicked.
He didn’t know how he knew, nor why he knew, but whoever those voices belonged to, they were calling to him—calling for him.
But he had no idea where it was coming from, nor how to go to where he was needed.
As Izuku pushed himself off of the skull once the tremor settled, he turned towards the group of guards who had fallen from the vocal quake. With a small gasp, he made his way over to start helping the others off of the ground.
“Are you guys alright?” he asked, grasping the hand of one guard and pulling him up.
That guard nodded his head, then soon gave him a quick curtsy. “We’re okay, Dragonborn. Please, don’t worry about us.”
Izuku faltered at being curtsied to like a noble. He hesitantly nodded his head at him before going around and checking everyone else. He was pulling Tsukauchi up from the ground when the latter began to speak. “Midoriya, you need to go.”
Izuku faltered once more, eyebrows furrowing. “Huh? Why..?”
Tsukauchi pulled his hand away as he reassured Izuku, “it’s nothing bad. But…” He looked at Izuku as though he felt humbled by saying this. “That was the Greybeards.”
Izuku felt bad for asking…but, truly, he didn’t know what everyone was talking about. Hearing these different terms being thrown around was making him feel extremely out of place, even if he was being addressed as someone of importance. “…the Greybeards?”
Tsukauchi let out a heavy sigh—Izuku felt that one—and turned to Kirishima. “Take him back to Jarl Toshinori the Almighty. He’ll know what to do. I’ll settle everything with the guards here.” He then faced Izuku, setting a hand on his shoulders; Izuku didn’t wince. “You.”
Izuku blinked. “Me?”
“Return to the Jarl.” Tsukauchi squeezed his shoulder—Izuku still didn’t flinch. “…and thank you for today. You fought honorably. Regardless of whether or not you were a Dragonborn, your skill and heroism has earned you my highest and utmost respect.”
Izuku didn’t know what to say. He stared at Tsukauchi for a few moments, mouth gaping and brilliant eyes widened.
Tsukauchi then gently pushed Izuku away from him. “ Go, Midoriya. You are needed in higher places.”
Izuku was only able to speak after his attention was brought to Kirishima, who was now standing in front of him.
“Ready to go now, Dragonborn?” Kirishima asked as he flashed a sharp grin at him.
Izuku shook his head to gather himself before replying. “Y…Yeah!” He turned around to leave, but not before glancing back at the deceased dragon and at the great sword that was still stuck deep in its skull.
The steel, almost coincidentally, reflected its light towards Izuku, as though it was saying farewell.
Izuku couldn’t see it himself, but his own eyes flashed an iridescent streak back at it before he turned back around to make way towards the city. He had higher places he needed to be—apparently—and, although he was still confused and taking in this newfound information about himself, he was ready to face whatever it was that laid ahead of him.