Hello, Fans! I'm pretty sure I have no fans... But as you may know, I'm having a little trouble coming up with ideas right now. I might go on with this, I might not. If you think I should continue, please leave a suggestion in the review box below! This is a reboot of 'The Last Dragonborn', a story I haven't continued but is on the site. I've decided to start it up again, with a new background, and new plot. Thanks to DraGGonized and skyflower51 for being the awesomest two people I know on this website. Have fun!

17th of Last Seed, 4E201

On the road to Helgen

My head hurts, I'm tired, and I have no idea where I am. My body feels broken, there's probably cuts and bruises everywhere on me. I open my eyes slowly. I can barely keep them open...

I wake again. I still feel broken, but now with a bit of nausea. Am I sick? Or just about to die? I open my eyes again, and I can't see much. I blink a few times, and everything clears up. I am in a cart, sitting on something. My head bobs up and down as the horse carries the cart along a rocky path. I look towards the front of the cart, or at least I think it is. There is obviously someone driving it, but who? It seems to be someone in armor and a helmet. The armor has a red tint about it, and I can make out some studded mail around his shoulders. It's no armor I've ever seen before...

"Hey, you." A voice jolted me out of my trance. I look around myself, bewildered. My eyes rest upon a man, most likely a Nord, sitting right in front of me, wearing what seems to be padded fur with a blue sash, and sleeveless chainmail shoulders. He smiles.

"You're finally awake." He says merrily. "No need to be alarmed, friend. We're prisoners, just like you."

Prisoners? And what does he mean by we?

"We?" I croak. I need something to drink, my throat hurts. "Is there someone else here?"

"Open your eyes, lad! You're in a cart with Ulfric Stormcloak!"

Ulfric? I've never heard the name. Sounds like a Nord name, considering I am a Nord.

But I do open my eyes as wide as I can, trying to see things. I see that right beside the man in blue is another man, wearing a tattered tunic.

"Who's this? Ulfric?" I ask.

"No! This is just some horse thief. He's asleep right now, might not want to wake him up.

"That" He nods towards me. "Is Ulfric!"

"Me?" I ask, confused. "I'm Ulfric?"

The man laughs.

"Of course not, Skeever-brain! Look beside you!"

I look to my right and finally notice that there is, in fact, somebody beside me. He has fiery reddish-brown hair, in a blown back style. His mouth is gagged, but I can still see he has a beard. There are wind braids in his hair, in a very Nordic style. He dons a large, wolfskin coat, covered in dirt, but fit for a count.

"Ulfric, you say?" says I. "And who is he?"

"Have you ever been to Skyrim before, friend?"

Skyrim? Why would he ask me that? We're in Cyrodiil... Right?

"Um, no." I reply. "Why?"

"Oh," he says, apparently puzzled. "I was just figuring, since you're a Nord and all.."

"How can you tell I'm a Nord?" I say.

"How can I not tell you're a Nord?" He grins. "Look at you! Fair skin, long hair, and a bit o' muscles on you! If you're not a Nord, then I'm not a Nord!"

"Long hair? My hair is-"

"Not now. But anyway, Ulfric is the leader of us, the Stormcloaks. We are freedom fighters, working hard to make Skyrim a good place-"

"Shut up!" Says the sleeping man in the ragged outfit, now awake.

"You are rebels, and everything was fine before you stupid 'freedom fighters' came and messed up the peace! It's because of you," He rants on. "that I'm on a cart, bound for death with the leader of a REBELLION! So shut up, you stupid Stormcloak!"

"Shut up back there!" The driver yells. "Damn prisoners..."

"So..." I say quietly. "We're in Skyrim?"

"Where do you think?" The 'Stormcloak' says. "We're in Morrowind?"

"Um, we're not in Cyrodiil?"

"Oh, I know who you are! You're the one who was trying to cross the border, right?"

"No, I wasn't trying to cross anything..."

"Maybe not, but you're in Skyrim now. In Falkreath hold, if I'm not mistaken."

"What's a hold?" I ask.

"Er... Where you from again?"

"Cyrodiil."

"Really? Okay, eh, the equivalent of a County in Skyrim."

"Oh, okay. You have any idea where this cart is headed?"

"Judging by the trees and mountains, I'd say Falkreath. The city, as in."

I've heard about Falkreath. All I know, though, is that it used to be part of Cyrodiil before it seceded.

"Helgen." A voice says from behind the cart. I look right, past Ulfric, and see somebody on a horse, apparently wearing the same armor as the driver. He had broad shoulders and medium-length brown hair, like mine.

"We're going to Helgen." He says again, and looks away, as if signalling us to keep talking.

"Well," the Stormcloak said. "Helgen it is."

"Who's the person on the horse?" I ask.

"That's Hadvar." He says. He lowers his head. "Used to be my best friend. But that's a story for later. Helgen is a little hamlet, one of the many villages the Empire uses as a base. I used to go there when I was a child, before all this. The inkeeper, Vilod, makes the sweetest mead in Skyrim! When I was a teen, he always added Juniper Berries to make it taste so good. And-" He lowers his voice so that only I can hear. "I used to be sweet on a girl here."

Suddenly a drop of rain lands on my shoulder. I look up to the sky, and see it growing grey, and clouds appearing.

"Oh, great." The thief in the rags says. "It's starting to rain."

Ulfric lets out a muffled grunt beneath his gag.

Rain starts pouring down on us, and Hadvar starts talking.

"You'd better sleep now," he says from behind us. "It's still a long way to Helgen, and there's no point waiting out the storm."

"He's right, you know." The Stormcloak says to me.

"Yeah," I say. "Better to rest, my body aches."

"Well, you guys can sleep," the thief says. "I'm staying wide awake until we arrive."

I lean my head back, relaxing my body. I can't wait to get a nice, deep sleep...

I am woken by a jolt of thunder. My eyes pretty much blow open, and I look around me. The sky is a dark grey, and it is pouring rain. The cart is still moving, and everyone but the driver is asleep, and also the thief. I face the man, and let out a yawn.

"How long have I been out?" I ask.

"I dunno, a while." He says to me. "Feels like a good two, maybe three hours."

"I miss anything?"

"Oh yes! There was a troll attack, and a bandit raid, and some Hagravens too!" He says, most sarcastically. "No. What do you think there was? Just rain, trees and a couple deer. I think we're almost to Helgen, though."

"What do you think will happen when we get there?" I ask.

"Well, considering we're on a carriage with a wanted criminal, I'm assuming they'll execute us."

I wipe some rain from my face.

"I don't think so." I reply. "I mean, they don't even know if we've done anything wrong."

"Well, they probably think we're rebels too, they did find us near a bunch of them."

"I actually don't know what happened. I think I passed out when I was captured."

"I don't remember much either. But I do remember them throwing your apparently dead body onto the cart. You wake up, I wake up, ta-da."

"Who are these guys, anyway? Some sort of mercenary group?"

"Are you stupid? This is the Imperial Legion! How have you never seen them before?"

"Well, back in Cyrodiil, in my city, Kvatch, they always wore chainmail with white surcoats bearing the symbol of Kvatch, a wolf. In Skyrim, they kind of look like Skingrad guards, but with different materials and no emblem on the armor."

"Welcome to Skyrim, then. Here, guards wear sashes representing the color of their hold. For example, orange for Whiterun, and red for Solitude. The emblem goes on shields."

"Hmm. Interesting. But anyway, why were you captured, exactly?"

He sighs. "I was on the road to Riften, and I figured I could get there faster by horse. But gold is hard to come by in Skyrim, and it was the dead of night, so I figured that nobody would mind if I borrowed a horse from this lodge I found in the woods. As soon as I mount the horse, it turns out that Ulfric Stormcloak just happens to be driving a cart with a ton of his soldiers, right into an Imperial ambush, where a scout finds me getting on a horse, and pulls me off, and throws me on a cart. What about you?"

"Eh, it's a long story." I say. "But basically I went hunting outside Kvatch, along the gold road. Some bandits come out from behind the trees and grab me. Take me to their camp way up in the Jerall Mountains. They send a ransom to the count, not knowing any of my family. Apparently the ransom was paid, because they dropped me in an autumn forest, and I had no idea where I was. I stay there for a day, and nobody comes to get me. So I start walking south, where I get knocked out and wake up on this cart. And that," I conclude. "Is how I got here."

"Interesting story," he says to me. "My name's Lokir by the way. I would shake your hand, but, as you can see, they're bound."

I look down, and see that indeed there is a knot tied around my hands.

"Hm," I say. "Never noticed that."

I look up, and the sky is ever darker, but the rain does lighten, although just a bit.

"How long have we been talking?" I say to him.

"Oh, half an hour maybe."

"Then why aren't we there yet?"

"I think we are." He says, nodding towards the front of the cart. I look closely, and can barely make out a tower and some smoke in the distance.

I reach forward with my bound hands and give the Stormcloak a little push.

"Wake up," I say gently. "We're almost there."

He opens his eyes.

"Really? How nice."

The rain starts to slowly halt, as the cart grows nearer to its destination.

We're all silent for a few minutes, as the night sky turns black and the only light is the lanterns on the cart. The village starts to come into view, and I can see the gate. It is made of stone, with wood spikes around, possibly to keep wolves out. We grow ever closer to the gate, and finally we are right in front of it. Ulfric is awake by now, and the gate opens, and the cart passes through it. I look around, and see that it is nothing like a village in Cyrodiil. The houses are stone, with straw roofing, unlike the whitewashed wood I have seen elsewhere. Most of the houses have their candles out, but some lights are still going, visible through the windows. We pass by a few houses, and what seems to be an inn. We finally halt at a grouping of stone towers. Another cart full of Stormcloaks has come through the other gate, perhaps from another place. Some soldiers walk out of one tower, and one woman, clearly the captain, is wearing big, Anvil-style imperial steel armor. She approaches the driver of our carriage, who has gotten off the cart and onto the ground.

I can just barely hear them talking.

"Are these the prisoners?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Get them inside and in cells. This isn't the proper time for a trial, much less an execution."

"Yes ma'am. Right away."

He turns to us, and I look away slightly.

"Alright," he says. "Get off the cart and follow me."

We all oblige, and I manage to lift my legs and stand, then hop off the cart with the others.

He leads us into a tower, where we go down the stairs and into a small jail. He then opens two cells. He throws Ulfric and the Stormcloak into one cell, and me and Lokir into the other.

"Get some rest. Your trial is tomorrow. The others will die, but you two have a good chance at living, if you can prove you aren't rebels.

"Well," Lokir says to me. "Looks like we might be getting out of this after all."

"Yeah," I reply, lying down on one of the two bedrolls. "Let's sleep now. Hopefully we can all sort this out tomorrow."

"Hey..." He says to me.

"Yeah?" I answer.

"What's your name?"

"My name? I didn't tell you?"

"Nope."

"Oh. Torgen, then. Torgen of Kvatch."

I closed my eyes, and fell asleep.

Wow, that was a nice chapter, the longest I've ever written, at words! Obviously I changed a TON of elements, like the time, dialogue, and small change at the end. But definitely what stood out most was character personality. I made Ralof a bit more comical and nice, and I made a few changes to Hadvar, too. But it was Lokir that you might have noticed the most. I didn't like his scaredy-cat appearance in the actual game, so I changed him. A lot. Thanks to skyflower51, DraGGonized, and most importantly, YOU, for reading till the end of the chapter. Please review, and feel free to add this to your favorites.

-SimonStormcloak