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The first thing he noticed was the cold.
The chill that bit at Daemon's skin was a hundred times sharper than it had been only minutes ago. But had it been mere minutes? The stiffness in his back and the grinding ache of hunger in his stomach suggested otherwise. When he opened his eyes and blinked away the last blurry remnants of sleep, the dull light of morning settled it: hours, not minutes, had passed. Hours since he'd left Cheydinhal as the sun dipped below the mountains, since she'd reached Dragonclaw Rock in the dead of the night, since she'd been stopped by those Imperial soldiers on the road heading north. The left side of his face throbbed, a memory of an armored fist, of the blow that must have knocked her out.
A man on a horse whinnied to his right, and all at once he became aware of his surroundings. He was on a cart, guided by an Imperial Legionnaire gripping reins in gloved hands. Two men sat across from him. Avoiding eye contact. As he looked skywards, he saw the pale green trees. But these were not the leafy and lush of Cyrodiil; these were the wild and snow-dusted trees of Skyrim.
The Motherland.
A quick flash of memories ran by him as he realized his hands were bound. "So, you're finally awake. Never thought you'll wake up but you did." Daemon jumped when he heard Ralof's deep voice." You were trying to cross the border right? Bad idea, if you ask me. Especially in the time of war. No one goes in or out of Skyrim without the Emperor's permission." Daemon chuckled. " Emperor, huh. That was nonsense what you just said. The Emperor has no say. He's weak, an Elven toy. Probably will be assassinated soon. I hope so." Ralof was shocked. He never heard a person talk the way he did. "I have never heard a truer fact then that. Other then Ulfric Stormcloak being the true High King!" Daemon smiled." Yes, ...". Daemon was shushed by the Imperial Soldier, as he swore on his mother's grave that he will cut off his tongue if he won't shut up. Suddenly, the man on Ralof's right side asked about the blonde haired man. Daemon looked to his right, he was big, a few inches bigger than Ralof, but smaller than Daemon. He was treated differently than the rest of the prisoners. He was like the rest, bound like and unlike the rest gagged. His long hair was braided down the back. His face was long, an intimidating look on his face. He had a few small scars on his face like if he was almost invincible. The man was in his forties, with his neat beard, he looked like the stereotypical Nord warrior with blonde hair. The only exception was that he was wearing an expensive, long, fur coat. " What's wrong with him, why is he gagged?" "HEY! Show some respect to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King. " Ulfric, huh? Looks like we're gonna die today." Daemon stated. " Die?! Oh no, I don't want to die!. Akatosh, Arkay, Dibella, Kynareth, Divines! Please help me!" The Horse Thief was wasting his time as the cart went past a gate.
HELGEN, A FORTIFIED HAMLET IN FALKREATH HOLD.
As the cart entered Helgen, on the right, General Tullius and Elenwen were having a conversation. Daemon tried he's best to look away, but for him, it is hard to look away from the wrong. Then the cart stopped, the Stormcloaks were getting down from the cart and were ordered to stay in line and go to block when their names are called. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm". Ulfric walked up slowly, the anger in his eyes." Ralof of Riverwood, Lokir of Rorikstead." The Horse thief walked up to the Imperial Captain, demanding mercy as he is not a rebel. The Imperial declined his request and Lokir started to run away. He didn't go very far as his back was pierced by an arrow. " Wait a second, you there, Nord. Who are you?" " My name is Daemon and I come from the village of Shor's stone." "A fellow miner, how did you end up here?" Then the Imperial Soldier quickly turned to the captain asking her what to do with Daemon since he's not on the list. Just like the rest of the Stormcloaks, he was ordered to have his head chopped.
There they were, Daemon, Ulfric and the rest near the chopping block. General Tullius came, he went near Ulfric and gave a speech on why he dies today." Ulfric Stormcloak, some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne. You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos; now The Empire is gonna put you down and restore the peace! Then the priestess started to give blessings. Daemon got annoyed and sighed. " For the love of Tiber Septim, the founder of The Empire, just kill us already! This is an execution not a ceremony! The priestess stopped and walked away, insulted. Then stormcloak was brought to the chopping block. Suddenly, A long and powerful shout came from the sky, everybody looked up, but there was nothing. The Stormcloak was executed. Now it's Daemon's turn to die. " The Nord in the rags, come here, it's your turn." Then, another shout came, same as before, but a little bit stronger when it felt like the creature who was doing it was getting closer. "I said, come here!" Daemon went, he got on his knees and put his head on bloody block. As the executioner got his axe in the air, then a creature came, doing the same shout. Both the executioner and Daemon fell. The creature was huge, he was big as a mountain and black as night. He had the eyes of a Daedric warrior. Red as the lava. The creature stated something in a different tongue, an unknown one."Zu'u Alduin. Zok sahrot do naan ko Lein! Zu'u lost daal. Daar Lein los dii!" (I am Alduin. Most mighty of any in theWorld. I have returned. The World in mine!)