Three weeks after discovering that it was her destiny to rule not only Azeroth, but the entire universe, Caprifexia sat upon her minion's shoulder as he trotted towards the town of Whiterun.

  Binbolf had prostrated himself before her to ask for assistance yet again, requesting that she use her awesome might and incomprehensibly devious mind to steal a famous axe from the 'Companions of Whiterun:' a drinking club for mead enthusiasts in a town to the north west of Riften.

  Or something. She hadn't been paying too much attention – she left the fine details to her minion. That was, after all, what he was for.

  They were nearly at the town, Whiterun, approaching from the eastern side because her minion had made a mistake with the map and insisted too forcefully that they take the other road, which she overruled because she didn't like his tone, leading to them taking…

  Well, it was probably his fault that they had had to walk around an extra mountain range. She couldn't imagine she would have made a mistake regarding geography, she was, after all, a Black Dragon, attuned to the earth, possessing an innate sense of direction, and generally being far better at everything than her minion. So that must have been how that had gone.

  Yes, that was it, her minion had screwed up, not her. Obliviously.

  To her right was a high range of snow-capped mountains, and to her left, was a large open plain of tundra split by a river. A few farms clustered around the water source, with a mill and a barn here or there, and the occasional mortal toiled away in the fields in the chilly, overcast air.

  "Ow! Watch the claws," said Einar, wincing as she flexed from her position on his shoulder. "I still don't understand why we couldn't get a second damn horse!"

  "Quiet minion," said Caprifexia, sniffing the breeze.

  "Not your damn- ow!"

  "There is something here," she said, ignoring him. "I smell sulphur, brimstone…"

  A roar shook the sky as a giant proto-drake descended from the clouds and barrelled towards a stout stone watchtower.

  "Unrelenting Force!" it shouted in some language Caprifexia hadn't previously heard before, and a wave of kinetic energy rippled out from it and crashed into the tower, smashing through the masonry and sending most of the upper section toppling to the ground in a cloud of billowing dust.

  "Dragon!" yelped Einar, pulling on the reins.

  "Don't be silly minion. That's a proto-drake," said Caprifexia. "I am a dragon."

  "Not now Capri," he said, jerking the horse around. "We need to get the hell out of here!"

  "You think a degenerate mongrel like that is a match for a true dragon!? Pah!"

  "Capri, you're a very small woman with a very big superiority complex who can turn into very tiny flying lizard. In contrast, that monster just knocked the top off a tower," he said, spurring the horse back down the road.

  "You're right. Perhaps it isn't worth my time," agreed Caprifexia confidently as the proto-drake swooped down and grabbed a guard in its claws, climbing to a good forty meters before dropping the screaming mortal to the ground.

  Proto-drake or no, it was rather massive…

  Yes, too big to concern herself with. It wasn't like it was really getting in her way, and it would take so long to clean all the blood off her scales. Putting the clearly inferior creature down, which she obviously could do, would be a totally unproductive use of her valuable time. Yes, she wasn't this silly little planet's pest control, let them deal with it.

  Unfortunately the proto-drake apparently hadn't been informed of her magnanimous decision to spare it, and wheeled around towards them.

  "Capri- Capri," gibbered Einar as the horse screamed in terror. "It's coming right at us – do something!"

  "Nubilas," Capri intoned, and a moment later a cloud of smoke billowed outward from her form, enveloping them both in thick, choking smog.

  It was a rather nifty spell that Capri had developed herself after noting that most mortals found it hard to breathe in perfectly comfortable environs. The idea was that she could use it in an enclosed space against foes and simply wait for them to choke to death with minimal energy needed. It also served to obscure things, which meant it was harder to be attacked from range.

  All in all, she was rather pleased with the result.

  "You're a –cough– fucking terrible wizard!" spluttered Einar, jumping from the horse as it thrashed about, pressing himself against the dirt where he presumably hoped there was still some fresh air. But Caprifexia had made sure that such obvious workarounds were accounted for, and the smoke extended fully to the ground. "Are you –cough– trying to kill us?"

  "Oh, you're so dramatic minion," she said. "Respirante."

  Einar gasped as a bubble of air – a spell usually used for breathing underwater – formed itself around his mouth.

  He coughed a few more times. "Now what?"

  "Now we wait for the proto-drake to get bored and find someone else to annoy," she said.

  "Clear Skies!"

  Caprifexia watched, disinterestedly and without even a single hint of fear, as her small cloud of smoke was blown away by a gust of wind and she found herself face to face with the very large proto-drake. She certainly didn't yelp and press herself against the ground in an effort to hide.

  "Hmm," it said, stalking towards her as she quickly placed her minion in between herself as the proto-drake. "What are you? dragon, but… not?"

  "How can you speak?" she blurted in response. "You're just a proto-drake!"

  "I am a dragon."

  "No you're not," she corrected, correctly. "You've only got two legs! I'm a dragon."

  "And you speak the tongue… strange – tell me little one, what is your name?"

  "I am Caprifexia, Queen of the Black Dragonflight, Aspect of Earth, Apex of Draconic Evolution, and future Ruler of the Cosmos!"

  The giant creature regarded her for a few more moments, sniffing deeply before snarling. "You are nothing, an impostor – a foolish mortal taking a guise."

  "How dare you call me a mortal you overgrown lizard!" shouted Caprifexia, fury overcoming her mild unease. "Augis!"

  A scorching fireball jumped from her maw and rocketed towards the so-called dragon in a breathtaking and textbook example of an offensive spell.

  The so-called dragon ignored it as it washed over its face, causing no appreciable harm.

  "Pathetic, let me show you how it is done, Frost Cold Freeze!"

  Terrible blue frost magic surged from the back of it's throat (yet more evidence of its fake draconic nature), and Caprifexia screamed as she saw death bearing down upon her.

  She regretted that she hadn't made more of her short life.

  She regretted that she hadn't lived every moment more fully.

  She regretted that she hadn't exterminated every last bug in creation.

  She perhaps even regretted that she hadn't been nicer to her minion.

  Actually no, probably not that.

  But most of all she regretted that she was about to die, and that she wouldn't get to rule the universe.

  Then her minion, who she had strategically placed with astonishing foresight, grabbed her out of the air, and with a great leap just managed to reach a ditch – which Caprifexia had, of course, known was there for such a purpose – which was just deep enough to shield them from the freezing torrent. Although her minion did whimper slightly about the terrible cold streamed through the air above him, the big baby.

  "Capri!" he shouted through chattering teeth. "We need to get out of here – teleport us, or something, anything!"

  Caprifexia coolly and calmly considered her options, she did not scream, and definitely did not panic in a similar manner to when she had been ambushed by her brother's assassin.

  As planned, a tear in reality opened, and both she, and Einar fell through it before the proto-drake could meet it's end at her mighty talons.

  It got lucky, this time.

  Unlike the last time she had totally deliberately made her way into the strange in-between place, when Caprifexia had been propelled by an explosion through the rift, this time she, and her trusty minion, simply landed on some crumbling masonry rather than falling through the void a few meters away.

  The ruinious platform that surrounded the miniature iridescent star was a hodgepodge of different constructions, the only constant the mouldering nature of the structures. Some parts were recognisably 'Nord,' but others were in architectural styles she had never seen before, and other sections were simply rough timber haphazardly nailed together.

  All around, along angles that were slightly mind bending, even to a dragon, rickety and crumbling bridges led up, down, around, and across to other platforms with stars that came in various different combinations of blue, red, purple, gold, and green. While the last time Caprifexia must have simply fallen until she happened upon a world thanks to whatever strange geometry governed this place, this time she would be able to – presumably – simply walk between worlds at her leisure.

  "Ah ha!" she said. "I knew that I would master the ability!"

  "What the… where are we?" said Einar, picking himself up and dusting himself off.

  "The paths between worlds!" said Caprifexia. "Behold my power minion! With this ability I will one day rule over the entire universe. Serve me well and I may make you a governor of a planet. Perhaps a continent. Maybe a city. Actually, let's be realistic, a small hamlet, you are only a mortal after all…"

  She considered for a moment.

  "How would you like your very own house?" she asked.

  Caprifexia attempted to flap up to her usual spot on her minions shoulder, before yelping as she discovered that her wings simply didn't provide any lift.

  "You OK?" he asked.

  "I cannot fly!" she said in horror.

  "Oh what a shame, you'll have to use your proper form for once," he said, rolling his eyes, and jumping out of the way as she tried to claw her way up his leg. "No! Stop that right now!"

  "This is my proper form," she huffed, before reluctantly switching into the horned half-elf form that she normally only wore in towns.

  "So – this is some kind of pocket dimension or something?" said Einar. "And the other stars are what, different parts of Tamriel?"

  "No minion, do keep up, these are different worlds," said Caprifexia. "One of them is my own, although I don't presently know which…"

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  "Wait… you're serious?" he said, his eyes lighting up in wonder at the wondrous nature of her power. An appropriate reaction to her majesty, at last. "Those are other worlds?"

  "Indeed," she said.

  "Then why in Oblivion are we making peanuts working for the Thieves Guild!?" he said with a note of indignation in his voice.

  "Minion, you're talking nonsense again," she said.

  "No – listen," he said. "Different worlds have different goods, right? Just like in Tamriel, different countries make things others can't, those get moved by merchants, and sold for a profit, right?"

  "I am not that interested in the particulars of mortal trade," she said. "That's what I have you for minion."

  "But this is a monopoly!" he said. "We simply have to buy something one world has, but another doesn't – take it there, then bam, sell it for an outrageous price, and rinse and repeat. No competitors, we can charge whatever they can pay."

  "And this helps me take over the universe how?" said Caprifexia suspiciously.

  "Who needs a crown when we could have a trade empire?"

  Caprifexia did like the idea of having an empire, although she didn't think her minion really understood how such things worked – poor limited creature. Gold was all well and good for lounging about on, but no substitute for an army of lackeys that both loved and feared you.

  Oh well, perhaps his silly little scheme could be a building block to an empire. After all, mortals did like money. She wasn't exactly sure why – perhaps because it was shiney? They were simple like that.

  "Of course. I was already thinking of something similar. But just so I'm sure you understand my idea, why don't you explain your current, limited understanding," she said, skilfully preserving the proper master-servant dynamic: she came up with the ideas, he carried out her will. It wouldn't do to let him think he was capable of directing things after all.

  "We pick a world another world, scope it out, buy some stuff that we can sell back on Nirn, and by the time we come back the dragon should be gone," he said. "We should probably still get that axe, otherwise Brynjolf-"

  "Who?"

  "Brynjolf, the leader of the Thieves guild," said Einar. "Otherwise he'll be pretty annoyed with us."

  "Oh, Binbolf."

  "That isn't his name."

  "I think you'll find it is minion. Honestly, you really should pay more attention."

  "Not your minion," he said. "But I will admit I was wrong about one thing, you are a great wizard. Stark raving mad, but undeniably great. We're going to be so rich!"

  ***

  "Why would anyone want this junk?" said Caprifexia as they walked through a bazaar in the rather awful dusty and smelly city they had arrived near. She quite like the pyramids, and the heat, but it was full of absolutely filthy mortals. "This planet seems particularly boring. Minion, make a note to put it at the bottom of the invasion list."

  They had crossed one of the bridges to a nearby platform in the Void, a mostly purple and slightly red star that had opened onto a wide desert plane that was bordered by a glittering blue ocean to the south, and rocky, craggy red hills to the north. They'd followed a road to the city, and although Caprifexia had received a few wary looks, no one had dared challenge her.

  "It does all look rather mundane, doesn't it?" said Einar. "And you really can understand these people?"

  "Of course, I am a dragon."

  "Hmm," said Einar, pausing before an arms dealer selling swords, daggers, and other mortal implements for hitting one another with. "Capri, I'm not great at magic, but none of this stuff is enchanted, is it?"

  "What? No, it isn't," she said.

  "Has anything been?" he asked.

  "No, as I said, this place is incredibly boring."

  Her minion rubbed his hands together. Probably cold – poor creature, without an internal furnace and proper scales it was a wonder any of his kind even made it through winter.

  "Can you ask the price for that sword?" asked Einar.

  "You, mortal – how much is the sword?" she said in the local tongue, pointing at the weapon in question.

  "70 Honours," said the dealer, crossing his arms and frowning at her.

  "'70 Honours,'" she translated. "Whatever that means."

  "The local coins, I think," said Einar. "And can you ask the exchange rate between an 'Honour' and gold?"

  "You, mortal, my minion wishes to know the 'exchange rate between an Honour and gold,'" she said.

  "Whaddya I look like, a bank?" he said. "Buy something, or piss off-"

  Caprifexia broke his nose.

  "What the fuck Capri!?" said Einar as the man fell backwards, howling in pain and spurting blood everywhere.

  "He was rude to me," explained Caprifexia.

  "You little bitch!" said the Arms dealer, grabbing one of his swords.

  "Whoa whoa, let's all calm down," said Einar, holding up one hand to placate the dracocidal man, while the other surreptitiously gripped the handle of the dagger in the small of his back. "I'm sorry sir, she didn't mean it, we'll be on our way now."

  The man relaxed slightly at his tone, if not his words, lowering the weapon a fraction. Her minion, however, proved himself a great disappointment by not immediately stabbing the merchant when his guard was down. She was going to have to have a talk to him about the need to actually follow through when luring foes into false senses of security.

  "There, no need for any more violence-" said her minion, which was perhaps the most bizarre statement she had ever heard. There was always a need for violence, always a need to keep the mortals from getting inflated ideas of their own importance.

  No, she wouldn't stand for this complete perversion of the natural order.

  "Fuerza," said Caprifexia, punching her first towards forward and releasing a blast of magic. It struck the sword seller in the chest, and sent him barrelling back into the stall behind him – a soup vendor, eliciting screams of outrage and pain as the arms dealer was scalded rather badly by the hot broth.

  "Fucks sake Capri!" said Einar, taking her hand and dragging her away at a run.

  "Unhand me minion!" she said. "I was not yet finished destroying my nemesis!"

  "I can't take you anywhere, can I? You're a total psychopath!" he said, turning his head towards the several guards with leather armour and spears following them. "Open another portal – quick!"

  Caprifexia focused, willing reality to part before her might.

  Nothing happened.

  "I don't feel like it," said Caprifexia after a few moments.

  "Put your hands on your heads and get on your knees!"

  ***

  The cell door shut with a firm clang.

  "Why!?" said Einar, sitting down on the bench. "Why must you start fights wherever we go? Now I have to put up with another whole month in gaol with you because you can't seem to act like a civilised being. 'Accessory to Battery;' I should have known that trying to go straight wouldn't work with you around."

  "The mortal provoked me; he refused to answer my question," said Caprifexia, examining her nails and licking some of the dried mortal blood off them. It was a little fishy. "And you worry to much minion. These pathetic bipeds don't even have magic, it will be easy to escape. If you're good, I'll even take you with me."

  "It would be especially easy to get out if you just opened a portal to the in-between place," said Einar.

  Caprifexia frowned and seriously considered this idea, scrunching up her face in concentration, but eventually decided against it.

  "Of course; you can't do it at will, can you?" said Einar. "You're just to proud to admit it."

  "Don't be absurd, of course I can; I am a dragon," she said. "I can do anything."

  "Go on then."

  "I told you, I don't feel like it."

  "Is there anything common between the times you've been able to do it?" he said. "What happened just before the first time you used it?"

  "My brother sent an assassin to kill me."

  "Of course he did," said Einar. "Of course you don't have anything resembling a normal family. OK, so both times your life was in danger, and your ability activated to save you."

  "'Save me?' Pah! I could have taken that proto-drake – if I'd wanted."

  "So all we have to do is trick your ability into thinking you're under attack," he said, ignoring her in a very impudent manner. He stood up, and stretched out his hands. "Come here."

  "I do not like where this suggestion is going minion," she said, taking a half-step back as he advanced on her.

  "Come on, I'm not actually going to hurt you," he said. "I'll start choking you-"

  "No."

  "Come on-"

  "No!" said Caprifexia, backing up into the bars.

  She couldn't let her minion choke her. It went against all norms of master-servant relations. She was a dragon, the life of any mortal that laid a hand on her was forfeit.

  But she quite liked Einar, he was useful, loyal, and at times even pleasant to be around. And if she killed him she would be totally, utterly alone.

  Tensions that had been building for the past few weeks clawed their way up and into her chest, stabbing at her heart like a rusty dagger, and just as his hands closed on her neck reality popped like a soap bubble behind her, coalescing into a swirling portal that let to the in-between place.

  "See, told you," he said, ruffling her hair as he stepped through the portal. "You need to just make yourself afraid to use it."

  "I am a dragon, I do not get scared," she sniffed, rubbing her eyes and stomping through the portal, which closed behind her.

  "Whoa, Capri- are you crying?"

  "No!" she said. "There is something in both my eyes; it's probably your fault!"

  "Whoa, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd get upset," he said. "Hey, hey, we'll find another way next time, OK? OK?"

  "No, you foolish minion, you don't understand!" she sniffed.

  "Yes, yes, I'm a foolish minion, one who is very sorry, please Capri, stop crying."

  "I'm not crying!" she said, stomping off in a random direction. "Dragon's don't cry!"

  "Hey, wait up. We don't want to get turned around in this place."

  "Shut up minion!" she said, sitting down on the edge of one of the platforms and staring out into the void of floating platforms and the endless walkways connecting them. The structures stretched out in all directions. Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, perhaps even more beyond the shifting veils of fog and cords of glittering multicoloured energy.

  Einar sat down next to her, putting an arm around her shoulder, although thankfully didn't speak anymore and let Caprifexia work through all her confusing anger and rage.

  Damned mortal with his damned kindness, and his personability, and not being easy to cast aside when no longer useful.

  It had been so much easier when she still had the Whispers. Without them she was broken, free or not. Without the Whispers she had all these distressing feelings that made her feel a bit bad about breaking that man's nose, or pushing Einar towards the guards back in Helgen, or when she'd set that honey factory on fire, or when she'd broken that other man's nose.

  And now she was blubbering like a mortal baby, some dragon she was.

  "So your brother tried to kill you?" he asked after Caprifexia's shoulders had stopped shaking.

  "Yes," she sniffed, accepting his handkerchief and blowing her nose noisily. Ridiculous mortal noses, if she were in dragon form, or a bit older, she could have just breathed a little fire to clear out her sinuses. "He wanted to be the last black dragon alive."

  "You're really doubling down on the whole dragon thing, aren't you?" he said, looking up at a distant sun. "I suppose if you're from a different world- oh, oh."

  "What?"

  "You're a child – aren't you? This isn't your real form, you are really that tiny, baby dragon."

  "A whelpling, I have explained this," she said. "You mortals really are slow to grasp fairly basic concepts, aren't you?"

  "Sorry – it's just, well you look about twenty or so in your… current form," he said.

  "Dragons mature more quickly than mortals: we have ancestral memories, are far more intelligent, more attractive, and are generally better at everything."

  "You certainly have much bigger egos," he chuckled. "So which one is your home?"

  "I don't know where it is," she admitted, gesturing out to the void. "I was knocked by an explosion, and I can't fly here – I just fell until I hit your world. Somewhere above us, I assume."

  "I'm sorry Capri."

  "Even if I could return, it wouldn't be safe."

  "Your brother?"

  "No. It's hard to explain to a mortal."

  "Try? You're my friend Capri, even if you're infuriating."

  Caprifexia huffed. She shouldn't have to explain herself to her mortal servant. She should be cold and imperious and flawless.

  But part of her did want to share her past with her minion.

  Some sick and twisted part of her.

  "My flight, we have a connection with the earth. Long ago this connection put us in contact with some beings called the Old Gods and it, well, at the time I didn't think much of it, but they were whispering into my mind ever since I was in my egg – whispering to all my people. Our foes called it a corruption, and- and I think that they might have actually been right. The Old Gods told me to kill and maim and destroy, but we didn't used to be like that."

  "No?" said Einar.

  "We were the planet's guardians, along with the other four dragonflights. We were supposed to watch over mortal-kind, guide and protect them, since they were so useless," she said. "But ever since I fell through this void, the Whispers have stopped. I don't even know who I am anymore. I would have killed you in a heartbeat for putting your hands on my neck not two months ago, but now I'm crying! It feels like part of me has been cut away. Before I was something, I had a purpose – to help restore my flight and achieve world domination. But now? I don't know, I'm… broken."

  She wiped her nose again and looked away, immediately feeling foolish. Proper dragons confided in other dragons, not in their mortal minions. Even when breaking down she couldn't even do it properly.

  "It sounds like you've been set free," he said slowly. "Free to choose your own fate, free not to randomly attack people for no reason –which, by the way, you still do– free to be the person you want to be."

  "But what if I don't know what that is?"

  "None of us really do."

  "You're a mortal, I'm a dragon – we don't just scramble about in the dirt, we have destinies."

  Einar shook his head.

  "The fact that you have scales and fangs doesn't makes you more or less or more of a person. I think sentience and creativity defines person-hood, not shape or sex or gender or species or longevity; and sentience means that you get to choose what you do with it," he said. "But if you're looking for purpose, you say that your people were originally protectors? Why not be that again? With your abilities you could guard and protect the entire cosmos – once you were a bit bigger, of course. I mean, I know I make fun of you, but for– wait, how old are you?"

  "Twenty two and a half months."

  "Twenty– really? OK, even more-so: for a little under two years old, you are a mindbogglingly powerful wizard."

  Caprifexia considered his words.

  Was that it? Was that her calling? To return to what her people had once been, as Wrathion reputedly was attempting to? Her father would have scoffed, but did it really matter what he thought? He had tried to destroy the world at the behest of the Old Gods after all, and following the orders of others was hardly proper dragon behaviour.

  And just because she might have lost something and was unable, and perhaps unwilling, to return to what she was didn't mean she was somehow was forever broken.

  She was still a dragon, the apex of life in the universe, she could still have purpose – even if she made it herself. And her minion was right, there was no reason she couldn't set herself a new goal; and becoming more like her distant ancestors seemed as good a goal as any.

  "Yes, that's it. Thank-you minion, I know now what to do," she said, standing and spreading her arms wide. "I will not conquer, I will not lay it to waste to worlds and crush them beneath my talons. No, I will become the greatest hero the cosmos has ever seen – Caprifexia the Beneficent, Savior of the Universe!"

  "Well, Savior of the Universe, perhaps if you're going to be all heroic then you should maybe stop calling me minion? Villains have minions; heroes don't."

  "Really? How bizarre," she said. "Who does the menial work then? What do I call you then?"

  "You do," he said."And how about 'Einar?'"

  "I… suppose," she said, shifting uncomfortably. "That will take some getting used to."

  "Great," he said, standing himself. "Well then, how about we head back to Tamriel. We still need to get that axe. But after that we can buy up all the cheap enchanted junk we can and flog it for an outrageous sum on that place we just visited – they don't have any magic, we'll make a mint."

  "Those things don't sound very heroic," she said. "Although, admittedly, I'm not really sure what it is that heroes do."

  "To become a hero you need supplies, books, training, the works," he said. "For that you need coin, so really, it's your duty to extort as much money with your abilities as you possibly can."

  "Ah, of course, good thinking minion – perhaps this hero thing won't be too difficult after all."

  "Einar. My name is Einar."

  "Oh, yes. That."

  A.N. If you like my writing, you might be interested in my fantasy adventure novel – – which is entirely pre-written and with chapters released every Friday!

  Mishka the Great and Powerful that isn't up on Royal Road yet!). However, I don't monetise or time-gate my fanfiction though (plz no sue!).