She is none of those things. Were she any more special, she'd be of his blood line and a Septim. Wouldn't that make for a horrible bedtime story? No, Vera has had enough of her unique nature and thanks Akatosh she is only Dragonborn some days. But that doesn't explain how she was able to wield the Elder Scroll, nor keep it safe. And his glibness only serves to irritate her.

Brushing away his hand and recoiling like a cat, she huffs. "I'm glad you've found some amusement in all of this. Fate is a fickle thing in my opinion." And she's finished with it. Alduin is dead. Her only duty now is to keep the other dragons in line or to kill them.

"Why haven't you gone back to Cyrodiil? Surely someone can identify you as a Septim. You could take your rightful place on the throne if you wanted to." But she doesn't assume he does. Why burden yourself with responsibilities when you can chart your own path and be free of fate? That's what she only wishes she could do at this point.