This is my first Skyrim fic, so don't hate me if its horrible. But, please, no flames. If you want to give me an OC to use later, give me one. Just no Dragonborns, obviously. and you'll have to excuse her attitude later- the stubborness and such is like me, and I can be so stubborn and witty. Just- sorry in advance.

had always hated crowds, but had forgotten why. Now I remembered, as I made my way away from my great-great-great-grandmothers grave, they were filled with idiots celebrating her life on the two-hundredth anniversary of her death. That was funny because she had been the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, a Dark Elf vampire, and a member of the thieves guild. I scowled at a man who tried to push past me, and thanked Talos nobody knew of my heritage. Because my three-times-great grandmother was Nerevar Dieti, the Hero of Cyrodiil.

I had decided to take a break from the farm up in Skyrim and come down to the Imperial City for a month or so. I told my parents I would be back soon, packed up, and rode off in a hired carriage. Of course, when I reached the border I had to verify my identity, and then show that I wasn't smuggling anything, and then wait for an hour as the imperial idiot checked my passport. Then he finally let me into Cyrodiil. The first person I ran into? A Thalmor Justiciar, who immeadiatly asked if I worshiped Talos.

"No," I had said, head held high, wincing inside at my words, "Talos is a false diety!" Sorry, Talos, I added in my head. The Justiciar nodded and waved my carriage on. I had finally reached the Imperial City and was exhausted, so I rented a room at the (still standing) Tiber Septim hotel, paying an extra ten septims to sleep where my ancestor slept. What a ripoff, I had thought, before dreams overtook me.

Now I was headed back there, and was still glaring daggers at the crowd when I heard a voice say, "A septim for the poor?"

It was an old woman, and I readily gave her ten septims, before asking her where the thieves guild fences were. She acted like she didn't know anything and ran away, leaving me sighing in the middle of the street, covered in dust and sweat, and longing to get back to my hotel for a bath and a hot meal. I was about to do just that when I was interrupted again.

"Excuse me, ma'am," said a male voice, and I turned to see a courier, "This is from General Tullius." He handed me a scroll, which, after untying, read,

Dear Madam Laeneia Lachance-
We are very saddened to announce that your parents were killed in a battle on Sundas during the last week of Mid Year. The Imperial Soldier who killed them, having mistaken them for Stormcloak Soldiers, was executed Morndas morning. It seems they were attacked by bandits, escaping the raid with their most valuable posessions, and sought refuge with the stormcloaks. I express my deepest regrets that your holiday must be interrupted by this, but your parents chose the wrong side in a war that has ended many lives. Their valuables are waiting for your pick up in the Blue Palace, in Solitude.

Deepesst Regrets,

General Tullius

I glared at the sheet of paper. The wrong side? Since when are refugees killed in a raid on a camp! They never were in normal army raids. The Imperials were becoming no better than bandits, and it was because they had forgotten the first rule of war- Leave the innocent be! My parents had been scared, probably injured, and could not have made the long journey to a city, so sought refuge at a military camp. And- and General Tullius? Deepest regrets? Really? How fake could you get? I'm sorry, I mimed in my head, your whole army was killed by one man- don't worry, he was promptly executed. Deepest Regrets, but you guys got in the way of his blade. I was steaming mad, and instead of spending the night at the Tiber Septim, decided to gather my things and hire a carriage to go back home.

I looked at myself in the mirror in my room, pinning up my pale blonde hair and pulling up the hood on my pale blue robes while my cold blue eyes stared back at me. My skin was as pale as ever, and, being mostly nord, I hardly felt the cold of Cyrodiil's night- but still I shivered. I had lost everything- all I could hope was that my mother had saved Nerevar's diary… That way I would have someone, long dead though she was, who had been through this same thing. Except for hopefully I wouldn't end up in jail for no reason. Yea, that would be nice. I left the hotel, and Imperial City, without looking back once.

I hired a carriage outside of the walls, tipping the nice man to take me as close to the border as he could manage- not to close, because, as he put it, he "wanted to keep his head firmly upon his shoulders." Sometimes I saw why my kinsmen thought so lowly of other races- imperials were cowards! But still, sitting in the back of a jostling wagon, heading resoutly towards Bravil, I fancied myself my Dark-Elf ancestress, riding to save the city from the oblivion gate that had sprouted up outside. Yes, I was Nerevar Dieti the fearless, hero of Kvatch, Dark Brotherhood listener, and I was strong. I would kill the idiotic Daedra and send Daedric Prince whats-his-name sniveling back to his mother- wait, did Daedric Princes have mothers?

Nevermind, I really didn't want to know if they did or not. I looked up at the sky, Nirns giant moon shining down on me with reds and blues, and the sky around it glimmering with stars. I ifelt almost free, being almost to the border, anyway. With a shudder, the wagon stopped and I sent a thanks over my shoulder, grabbing my bag and leaping, cat-like, out of the wagon. I landed on my feet gracefully, and flicked the Imperial another Septim. Looking up, I noticed thunder cloud broiling on the horizon, and moving fast towards me. Touching my amulet of Mara, I made note of the lightning that seemed to rip open the sky, turning it the red of blood… and the skies of Oblivion. I shuddered, glad the woman I knew as grandmother had closed all the oblivion gates, and had still had time to write in her journal about how,(quote) "Martin Septim can't keep his sorry butt out of trouble for more than a second" and how he "had to go summon Akatosh to send what's-his-name back to Oblivion, before dying. I mean, sure, whats-his-name tried to kill us all, but I would of kicked his Daedric butt and not died, without summoning a divine."

It had always made me laugh, and I laughed again, recalling it. I couldn't wait to get my hands on the soft leather cover and-what in the name of Talos? I stumbled as an arrow flew by, inches from my nose, and I spun with it, watching it go think and stick into a tree trunk. Pulling it out, I noticed a band of red on the shaft. Imperials, I thought, looking up. They must have mistaken me for a stormcloak in my blue outfit.

"Aaaaargh!"

"Aaaaaa!"

The Imperial charged, war axe raised, and I screamed, ducking, and shouting, "I'm innocent! A traveler! Put that axe down!"

The imperial stopped, but still said, "You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people. What say you in…huh?"

I had taken off, hood flying back as I jumped over a fallen log and swearing as I toppled into a fine-robed man… who grabbed my arm and pulled me along behind him. We trampled through the forest and into a clearing, where we were grabbed and tied up.

"Innocent!" I screamed, "I'm blasted innocent, you imperial bastards! INNOCENT!"

There was a clang from behind me, a burning pain in my head, and I sank into blissfull unconsciousness.

This is actually one of my skyrim characters, though she doesnt have a last name. You'll find out... Later why her name is Laeneia Lachance. which, means, literally, "Light the Luck" or "Pure the Luck" No, really. Laeneia is my version of Laney, which means Light, so yea. Please, R&R, and I'm working on my other stories. Dont worry. Brownie points if you can guess who the fine-robed man is, and why her last name is Lachance- PM me if you think youve got the answer, or if youve got an OC.