I use mods, however they will not appear, with the exception of Dawnguard, Hearthfire, and Dragonborn
A Wood-Elf's Tale
Introduction
"Hey, you!" A voice rang out in Al'Khrador's mind. He opened his eyes blearily, blinking and looking up, at the source of the voice. "Finally awake?" The speaker said. He was a man with fair, shoulder-length blond hair and sky-blue eyes.
Al'Khrador looked around. He was one of four men in a horse-drawn carriage. He went to stretch his arms, then blinked, realizing his arms were tied. There was a lightly-armored guard driving it.
"You were trying to cross the border, right?" The blond man asked. Al'Khrador nodded. He was just trying to get home, back to the tall, vast trees of Valenwood. He never expected that ambush by those soldiers. "Same as us," the man continued. "And that thief over there." Al'Khrador turned as another man began to speak, looking at the blond one.
"Damn you, Stormcloaks," the man said. He had greasy, brown hair and ragged, shambled clothes. Al'Khrador bet he didn't look much better. "Skyrim was fine until you came along, the Empire was nice and lazy," the man stated angrily. Al'Khrador narrowed his eyes. This man seemed quite the vain coward, but Al'Khrador was judging on appearance and a few words.
"If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now." The man turned to him.
"You there," he said to Al'Khrador. "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." The other, blond-haired man turned to the thief.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."
"Shut up back there!" The driver of the carriage warned. Al'Khrador rolled his eyes. He never was known to obey the rules.
"What's wrong with him, huh?" The thief asked. Al'Khrador thought he was talking about the driver, until he saw the man the thief was looking at.
"Watch your tongue!" The blond man commanded. "You're talking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king!"
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" the thief asked in dismay. "You're the leader of the rebellion," he continued. "But if they captured you- Oh gods! Where are they taking us!"
"I don't know where we're going," The blond man stated, in a grim, serious tone. "But Sovngarde awaits."
"No, this can't be happening!" The thief murmured, starting to panic. "This isn't happening!"
"Hey," the blond man said, turning to look at the thief. "What village are you from, horse thief?" Al'Khrador's lips turned up in the ghost of a smile. The man was trying to take their minds away from this trouble, turning them towards better times.
"Why do you care?" The thief snapped. Al'Khrador was beginning to like this man less and less.
"A Nord's last thoughts, should be of home," The blond man continued, pretending not to notice the thief's anger and squeamishness.
"Rorikstead. I- I'm from Rorikstead," the thief stated.
"General Tullius, sir!" A man said from the side. "The headsman is waiting!"
"Good," the driver said. "Let's get this over with."
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh, Divines!" The thief begged. "Pleased help me!"
"Look at him," The blond-haired man spat. "General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves."
Al'Khrador narrowed his eyes angrily and opened his mouth, about to speak, then shut it. He realized the man was talking about the Altmer, the high and mighty, stuck up cousins of the Bosmer.
"I bet they've had something to do with this," The man said, still angry. "This is Helgen," The man said wistfully, his expression turning distant. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here." He chuckled. "Wonder if Vela is still making that mead with Juniper berries mixed in." The man's expression turned more sad. "Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."
"Who are they, daddy?" A small boy's voice called out from behind Al'Khrador. He turned, looking for the source of the voice. A small boy sat on his porch, looking at the carriage line. "Where are they going?" the boy asked.
"You need to go inside, little cub," a man said, presumably the boy's father.
"Why? I wanna watch the soldiers!" The boy complained.
"Inside the house, now." The main said in a commanding tone.
"Yes, papa," the boy whined.
"Woah!" the carriage driver said, pulling on the reigns as he did so, slowing the horse.
"Get these prisoners out of the carts, move it!" A female voice commanded.
"Why are we stopping?" The thief queried, obviously worried.
"Why do you think?" The blond man asked sarcastically. "End of the line." Prisoners from the other carriages were stepping out. "Let's go," the blond-haired man said. "Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."
"No wait! We're not rebels!" the thief pleaded as they were standing up. Al'Khrador enjoyed the opportunity to stretch his legs, probably for the last time.
"Face your death with some courage, thief." The blond man scolded.
"You've got to tell them, we weren't with you! This is a mistake!" the thief continued, begging. Al'Khrador sat down on the edge of the carriage with a dull thud, and hopped down.
"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!" the Imperial Captain commanded, clearly used to being in charge.
"Ugh. The Empire loves their damned lists," the blond man said, hopping down alongside Al'Khrador.
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm," the man next to the captain stated, scribbling something in his book. The gagged man began to walk of.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," the blond man said reverently.
"Ralof of Riverwood," the Imperial man said. The blond man alongside Al'Khrador, now identified as Ralof, walked off.
"Lokir of Rorikstead," the man said in the same tone.
"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" the thief stepped forward, pleading. Coward, Al'Khrador thought.
"Halt!" the Captain yelled as Lokir began to run.
"You're not gonna kill me!" Lokir yelled back, running off.
"Archers!" the Captain commanded.
A man with a bow behind the Captain drew an arrow, sighted, and released. The arrow shot across the path, and thudded into Lokir's thigh, probably striking an artery, causing him to fall to the ground.
"Does anyone else feel like running?" the Captain demanded sarcastically. Al'Khrador shook his head vigorously.
"Wait, you there, step forward." The Imperial man commanded. Al'Khrador walked forward, in front of the man. "Who are you?" the man asked. Al'Khrador could see the Imperials scanning his features. His shoulder-length, light brown hair, his thin eyes, his dirt-covered face, and the long scar across his left cheek from that sabre cat encounter. Al'Khrador tensed under their gazes.
"I- I'm Al'Khrador," he answered.
"Not many Wood Elves would choose to come alone to Skyrim." Al'Khrador suppressed a smile. Maybe this would convince his fellow Bosmer to come in parties. "Captain, what do we do? He's not on the list." Al'Khrador couldn't help but feel a tiny ray of hope for freedom.
"Forget the list. He goes to the block," the Captain commanded, quashing Al'Khrador's hope like an overripe grape.
"By your orders, Captain," the Imperial man said. "I'm sorry," he said turning to Al'Khrador. "We'll make sure your remains are returned to Valenwood." He pronounced his 'r' s like 'w' s. "Follow the Captain, prisoner." Al'Khrador walked behind the Imperial Captain, and stepped in line with the other captured prisoners.
"Ulfric Stormcloak," the General, a short, balding man said. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like The Voice to murder his king and to usurp his throne." Ulfric grunted through the mask. "You started this war! Plunged Skyrim into chaos!" the General continued, his anger slightly increasing word by word. "Now the Empire's going to pin you down, and restore the peace-" he was interrupted by a faint, high-pitched roar.
"What was that?" The Imperial man with the list asked.
"It's nothing, carry on," the General replied.
"Yes, General Tullius!" the Captain stated. "Give them their last rights," she said, turning to a yellow-robed woman.
"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, may the blessings of the Eight Divines be upon you-" she was interrupted by a man with red-brown hair stepping up.
"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!"
"As you wish," the woman in the yellow robes replied icily. Standing before the block, the man looked down at it.
"Come on! I haven't got all morning!" he yelled. The Captain stepped towards him, and put her hand softly on his back, then pushed him roughly down, and planted her foot on his back. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials, can you say the same?"
A man next to the block with an odd mask picked up a large, two-handed axe. He raised it above his head, then swung down, shifting his right hand down to his left to get maximum velocity. The axe swung down, and cut cleanly through flesh and bone, hitting the stone with a dull clang! The onlookers gasped, and Al'Khrador shuddered and bent slightly, forcing himself not to puke.
"You Imperial bastards!" A Stormcloak woman yelled.
"Justice!" A man behind Al'Khrador yelled.
"Death to the Stormcloaks!" A woman yelled. Al'Khrador felt a tear spring into his eye. How could people be so merciless? Enjoying killing with a grim satisfaction, purely because they're on the opposite side? Valenwood was nothing like this! Al'Khrador's thoughts were interrupted by Ralof.
"As fearless in death, as he was in life," Ralof said, in slight mourning for his old comrade.
"Next, the Wood Elf!" the Captain commanded. The faint roar sounded again, but it seemed ever so slightly closer.
"There it is again!" The man with the list said, looking at the sky. "Did you hear that?" he said, turning towards his Captain.
"I said, next prisoner!" the Captain yelled, glaring at the man.
"To the block prisoner, nice and easy." the man said gently.
Al'Khrador stepped forward, his legs shuddering. "Please," he whispered, a tear rolling down his face. He wanted to see his family again, his friends. He even wanted to see his former hunting partner, Tetara again. He wanted to smell the aroma of the trees, to feel a hunting bow in his hands, to eat rabbit again, over the table with his family and friends. He wanted to be home. But Al'Khrador pushed these thoughts back. He faced the block, his head hung in sorrow. He felt a hand on his back, and then a foot firmly planted there as he lay on the ground, his neck uncomfortable against the bloody stone, his hair tickling the lifeless head of the other man.
He looked at the executioner, and gasped. The roaring sounded, coming from the dark shape that hurtled over the mountains. It landed on the tower, behind the executioner. The executioner, who was raising his axe, fell. He heard swords draw, almost at once.
"Dragon!" A woman yelled. Al'Khrador looked up at the vile monster atop the keep. It was jet-black, with two sets of horns, and cold, unforgiving orange eyes. Waves of power spread out from its mouth as it uttered two sets of meaningless words. Al'Khrador's vision blurred, and he rolled off the block and collapsed on the ground.