My first try ever on the fanfiction, so be soft on me. I'm just learning English, to boot, so I made lots of mistake for sure, and I'll do more.
I'll be thankful for any help you can give me.
And why this story even started to be written there? Because there's so little self-insert Skyrim fics, of course! The story will be less of a quoting as I'll got through the prologue, but it still be mainly my character's rambling inside her head. Oh, and a bit of romance later. With Vilkas. Nothing really steamy, though.
And the boring part: "Skyrim and The Elder Scrolls series belongs to Bethesda, that I love for this."
The first sensations I felt waking up was a gentle rocking, and a cold wind on my exposed skin. I half-heartedly tried to cover myself up, but couldn't really move my hands.
'Huh, I have to turn around to stop lying on them…' I thought. 'Wait, what!"
I wasn't lying on my hands. I had them bound tightly behind in front of me, and I wasn't lying either. I was sitting upright, the sounds that I dismissed as something on TV finally started making sense when I sleepily started to took in my surroundings: the shaky cart, horse, and the snowy landscape around me.
"Hey, you!" the harsh man's voice drawn my attention to the person sitting across the cart. "You're finally awake."
I must have frowned as I felt a scary foreboding dawning on me. The man – a blonde, quite handsome one - ignored me and just continued talking.
"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked into that Imperial ambush, same as us and that thief over there."
Oh God, that cannot be true… It all sounded too familiar.
The second man has shattered all delusions that I could have had.
"Damn you, Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along."
Through the rest of the ride to the first town I was going to see in this frozen land, I'm sure that I turned green to yellow and white at last several times, thinking of what has just happened. I couldn't understand this, but the sight of well-known scenery alone was enough to assure me in my suspicion: I was in Skyrim, and in the game-starting situation, too. Since I didn't believe that anyone I know would make such a perfect cosplay of my fellow prisoners, this had to be a dream. I played Skyrim quite a lot lately, after all. Fervently, even. I could just wait and relax a little, while the wagon continued to rock.
While ignoring scared chatter of the others, I took in the Ulfric's - the Jarl Ulfric's - appearance. Even with that gag in his mouth, he looked pretty much handsome. His defined nose, and hard gaze sure was attractive, and his hair somehow managed to look less unkept than other men's.
I was brought back from my contemplation by the rough soldier's voice.
"General Tulius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"
I was watching the town closely as we rode in. I always played the game on the lowest details possible, so it hadn't looked so impressive. If I could, I would pat my imagination on its back. The houses, the people on the streets... and the soldiers, it all looked one hundred percent real. I didn't even thoght that I had that in me.
When the carts stopped, I tried to hop off of it gracefully, but stumbled and fell on my knees instead. Wonderful, being clumsy even in my dreams surey gave me credit, didn't it? Speaking of which, even if I knew it wasn't real, I couldn't help starting to get a little frightened. It could be one of these nightmares where everything would go wrong, after all - the dragon not coming, or killing me, or somesuch. The horse thief try on running away didn't lighten my mood, too. Even if I was amazed how fast the man could run with his hands bound, the sound of a pierced flesh... well, it wasn't nice. Very much so.
The Imperial officer reading a prisoners list finally made it to the part where the character creation window should pop up. Just to say, it didn't.
"Who. Are you?" he asked.
I found it fitting to give him my game name.
"My name is Eleima." I answered, looking calmly in his eyes.
"You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman." The man answered, looking pained.
I was quite suprised that I was classified as a Nord, since I was Slavian. But then again, I was quite pale, gray-eyed and blonde. All of these I'd passed on my game character, too, so probably there wasn't anything wrong with it.
The Stormcloack soldier lost his head as he always did. And it took me the sickening smell of the blood to understand why all of that felt wrong.
I can never smell anything when I'm dreaming.
