This is a Skyrim/Alan Wake 2 fic. All rights belong to the copyright holders.
This chapter has been edited due to content. If you want to see the unedited version GO HERE.
ALEX
I gripped my FBI jacket tightly as the snowstorm raged. It was noon but you couldn't tell that by how thick the air was with snow. For reasons I had spent years trying to figure out, my dreams had gotten realistic to the point it was hard to tell if I was dreaming. The only reason I could tell I was dreaming was that Skyrim didn't really exist. So the docks at Windhelm couldn't be real.
Yet the cold was chilling and standing in front of a brazier was the only way to keep warm. I had to keep moving so the people in my dream wouldn't pass through me as if I were a ghost. If this was my first time I would have been terrified. But I had these dreams on a nightly basis.
Sometimes they got me through the day.
As I stepped out of the way of an Argonian, the race was the only dockworkers of the city, I wondered why I was having these dreams. In all my years before these dreams there hadn't been dreams like these. Some people were able to escape in their dreams but I wasn't. When I closed my eyes I was assaulted by whatever had been bothering me that day. Sometimes I didn't dream or the dreams were strange.
But I had never had realistic dreams that continued for years. Dreams that had a continuing storyline. Dreams that followed one character. Hell, I had never fallen in love with someone in my dreams.
The worst part about these dreams was the fact I couldn't tell anyone about them. I couldn't afford a psych evaluation which would see me losing my job. They would think I was crazy and then my dreams would be my only means of escape.
My dreams were pleasant, most of the time now, but they weren't real. They were no different than someone reading a book or watching a movie.
When I started having these strange dreams, I had been forced to research without telling anyone the actual reason. When said research had turned into a seemingly obsessed fanatic of The Elder Scrolls series, I had to pretend to be a fan. I had to pretend that it had always been my secret obsession. I had to endure endless questions and debates.
The worst part is that I eventually formed strong opinions on the series which fed into the false narrative I had begun. The strongest opinions were of the Argo-no. They called themselves Saxhleel and I had to respect that.
While pretending to be into fantasy, I had been dragged into my office's Dungeons and Dragons group. If I were to refuse then it was inevitable that people would ask questions about my knowledge of The Elder Scrolls series. What if they started to think I was insane?
Now every Saturday, when everyone was available, we met up and played a few hours. It was enjoyable even though I couldn't get into it. But I could pretend I secretly enjoyed it so people didn't grow suspicious.
I let out a grunt as a few guards walked through me. It felt like they were tearing through my organs and skinning me alive. Yet it didn't hurt at all. It was just extremely uncomfortable. At least it didn't last long and I found another brazier to stand next to. A brazier that didn't have so many people passing by.
The painless pain from these dreams had become normal to me. They had begun shortly after a messy divorce that must have left me more broken than I had thought. Because why else would I start having them if they weren't me trying to deal with all the ****** up emotions from the divorce? Though sometimes I began to think that there was another reason.
But nothing else made sense except me dealing with the divorce. So why was there another reason always gnawing into the back of my skull?
The Windhelm docks in my dream was different than in the game Skyrim. In the game there were two ships. One there just for show and the other to take you to Solstheim. In my dream the docks were a bustling mess of activity since there were at least five ships at any given time. The ship that went to Solstheim wasn't always there and people wanting to go to the island sometimes had to stay weeks in Windhelm waiting for its return.
There were also more Saxhleels running around than in the game. They also had their own voices and not just the same one or two voice actors. Neetrenaza and Scouts-Many-Marshes were still there. That hadn't changed. The former looked angry while the latter seemed to have a happy attitude.
When researching on the Elder Scrolls series I tended to focus on Saxhleel history and everything that related to it. I hoped to someday find any information on Jash the Last Dragonborn. He was a Saxhleel that had once been called Kysnier but changed his name to Jash after freeing himself from slavery. He had also traded being a girl for a boy who had grown into the pinnacle of a man.
It had taken me some time to come up with the theory that these dreams were his memories. Or, at least, what I wanted to be his memories. Though, in dreams like the one I was currently having, he took his time arriving.
In all my years I had only been interested in women. Human women. I had never looked at a werewolf or dragon and thought about ******* it. Yet with Jash it was different. No one else could compare to him in my eyes. While dreaming I became more aroused than I had in a long time.
Even while I was awake, I found myself aroused when thinking about him. In a trashy romance novel the protagonist would talk about Jash's body calling out for hers on a primal level.
I needed to see Jash so I would wait until he arrived. I'm sure if I told Saga about my dreams she would think I was being unhealthy. Maybe the truth was that I didn't care. I needed to see him every time I closed my eyes.
Jash finally walked down the steps to the docks and I looked at him. By the state of his scales and how his crest was pressed onto his head, I knew he was uncomfortable. His red scales were mostly covered by Imperial Armor and a thick cloak. He had thrown the hood back so I could clearly see his white feathers, two horns that curved forward like a broken crown, eyes that had a sickly hunger of their own, and the three scars on the left side of his face.
"Jash!" I cried out in a vain attempt to get his attention.
Was he looking at me? Had he finally noticed me after all this time?
No.
I followed his love soaked gaze to Scouts-Many-Marshes. Never before in all my dreams had Jash looked at anyone like he was now. I guess in my dreams there was such a thing as love at first sight. My world dropped from under me and I had two conflicting emotions at once.
I knew now that Jash would never look at me like Scouts. Love like that could never be done twice. There would always be something in the way.
I also knew that a love that started that strong could never last. It would burn and leave everyone involved broken. People weren't prepared to love one person for their entire lives. Jash didn't deserve such heartache. I wished I could save him from the pain he would experience.
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