The distinct sound of worn wooden wheels scraping against dry earth rattles through the air. Trees rustle and sway under the guidance of a steady breeze, coated in a thin layer of frost; a promise of a quickly approaching winter.
Fareeha Amari rouses from her stupor by the shaking of the carriage she sits in. The shock of cool, crisp air against her skin bites almost as much as the scratchy rope binding her wrists. Breathing in deeply she clears her head of residual fogginess and takes in her surroundings.
She sits among a group of men, their hands bound similarly to hers. Their heads hang low, hair tangled and messy, their faces worn with weariness. She feels as tired as they look, her limbs ache and her head throbs with a dull pain. Strange trees clump together along the side of the path, their needles painted with ice. Tall mountains stand in the distance, withstanding against the freezing wind. Goosebumps cover her arms and she shivers under her tunic. She was not used to this kind of harsh climate.
"Ah, you're awake!" The man sitting across from her says, his tired eyes lighting up a bit. "I wasn't sure how hard they hit your head, if you'd wake up or not."
Fareeha frowns, trying to recall the events that had transpired to get her into this situation. "Where exactly are we?" She asks the man.
"Right outside Helgen by the looks of it. And the name's Ralof by the way."
"Fareeha" She gives him a tight nod and returns the small smile.
Ralof tilts his head and inspects her, eyeing up her darker skin and strange complexion. Or perhaps it was her tattoo, its dark lines swirling under her eye in an ancient symbol from her homeland, that had caught his attention. "Say, you're not from here, are you?"
"No, this is my first time being in Skyrim."
Ralof's eyes sadden, "Im sorry that this is the welcome you're receiving. You shouldn't have gotten mixed up in all of this."
"Do you know what happened?" Fareeha asks, "I can't seem to remember anything after crossing the border."
Ralof's eyes squint in thought, "Well, I was traveling with my comrades, and we stepped right into an Imperial ambush. I didn't see you anywhere, but you must've been close by." A look of shame crosses his features briefly as he continues, "We were captured and loaded up on here. A few minutes later they were hauling you're unconscious body into the cart." His gaze flickers to the driver at the front of the carriage and his voice lowers, "These Imperials are too daft to realize that you're clearly not a Stormcloak."
Fareeha opens her mouth to respond but is distracted by the distant noises of people. She snaps her head up and focuses ahead, where stone towers and small houses loom through the grey fog. As the caravan of carriages slows and enters the small town, people emerge from their homes to gape at the strange sight. The towns architecture is unlike anything she was used to seeing. Everything just seems so cold and harsh. Grey rough stone for the foundations, with flimsy straw and hay thrown hastily over top for a roof. An ache peirces her art as she misses her own home, resting among soft sand and warm water.
A trickle of fear begins to edge its way down Fareeha's spine as the carriages jerk to a stop.
"End of the line, it's time to meet the Gods." Ralof speaks softly as he stands up with the rest of the prisoners. Fareeha stands as well and hops out of the cart, already scanning the area for any route to escape. Men in red and silver Imperial armor guard every entrance and exit, their hands resting on the pommels of their blades. A hulking brute of a man, his face concealed by a black executioners hood, stands idly by, his huge ax resting against his side. The sight sends cold shivers through her body.
Out of the bleak grey and brown, a shock of gold hair, nearly white, stands out. Fareeha adjusts her head to get a better angle, her eyes widening as they rest upon the striking woman. She stands behind the rest of the crowd, almost in the shadows, clutching a fur mantle that lies upon her shoulders. Dressed in light furs and a simple pale orange tunic, her blue eyes meet Fareeha's.
Fareeha becomes transfixed on the blonde, her eyes unable to leave the sight before her. They both hold the stare, neither of them flinching or speaking. Suddenly the strange woman's eyes flicker to the sky and back before a flash of sadness and fear crosses her fair features. With a flurry of her cloak, the woman turns and disappears behind the building she was standing next to. Fareeha nearly calls out to the woman, but her attention is snapped back to her cold reality.
"You there, what's your name?" A rough voice breaks the silence. She turns to face the man before her, a roll of parchment gripped in his hand.
"It's Fareeha, Fareeha Amari." She speaks her name clearly, standing up straighter as she says it.
The man squints at his list and frowns. He turns to a woman on his right, "Captain, she's not on the list."
A burly woman stalks up, her face half concealed by the elaborate helm she wears, a plume of red sprouting from the silver. Her eyes narrow as she inspects Fareeha, a look of distaste crossing her lips. "I don't care if she's not on the list, she goes to the block."
The man sighs and looks back to Fareeha, "You heard her, into the line."
"There has to be a mistake here, I've never even been to Skyrim before." Fareeha says firmly, trying to conceal the fear threatening to crack her voice. "Traveling alone is not a crime."
"It is when you're affiliated with Stormcloaks."
"But I'm not-"
"I know you're not," The man interrupts with a sigh, "If it were up to me you'd be free to go, but it's the captain's orders. Just don't make this any harder than it has to be. I'm sorry."
Fareeha just swallows and steps in behind Ralof, the enormity of her situation finally coming to realization. A cold sweat forms along her brow as she scans the guards surrounding her. Her beloved claymore and supplies had been taken away from her during her capture, and now, standing in just her fur lined tunic and under clothes, she feels naked. The bastards had even taken her cloak.
A woman dressed in the robes of the Divines steps out and begins speaking, but her words become lost upon Fareeha's ears. Instead, her focus is situated on a man standing behind the Executioner, her claymore strapped across his back. Anger burns through her at the sight; seeing her trusted blade so hastily sheathed to another, held by someone who does not know the history that travels within its ivory blade. History that belongs to her, and her family and she has to get it back.
One of the Stormcloaks steps forward to the block, grumbling about something. He drops to his knees and before another insult can leave his lips, the Executioner cleaves his head from his body. An uproar of protests arises from the crowd of Stormcloaks, profanities and curses flying from angry lips. The villagers stay quite, watching from the saftey of their windows and porches. Fareeha briefly wonders if this is a normal sight to them. A distant rumble echoes through the sky, like strange thunder, but it goes unnoticed by the agitated crowd.
"Next prisoner!" The captain shouts, clearly impatient to get this moving. Fareeha wills herself to step forward, but fear courses through her body. She couldn't die yet. Not when she had just arrived in Skyrim. Her mission could not end before it had even started. Another strange rumble resonates through the cool air, echoing off the high pointed peaks of the mountains. Except this time it's a little louder, and sounds closer. She gulps and drops to her knees, her head resting against the bloodstained wood of the block. She couldn't believe it, that her journey was about to end. She would die here, in this cold, harsh foreign land, away from what is left of her family and clan. Never to feel the warm sands of Elsweyr, or the smooth water that lapped gently against the beaches. She closes her eyes and mutters a last prayer to Kynareth, her favored Divine of the heavens and spirits.
She awaits the swift kiss of the ax, but it never comes.
Instead a roar so loud it nearly splits the sky erupts from above her head. She turns her gaze skyward, to the crumbling watchtower that now hosts a massive black behemoth.
"Dragon!" One of the Imperials screeches.
Eyes wide with terror, she swears the beast looks right at her, before letting out another ear-piercing shriek. She drops to the ground and throws her bound arms above her head, in an attempt to shake off the falling debris that rains from above.
A massive rush of air knocks her back as she hears the Dragon take off from its perch. She raises her head tentatively, only to witness disaster.
Utter chaos spreads like the fires climbing higher and higher along rooftops. People screaming, debris flying, smoke rapidly spiraling into the sky, and amidst it all, the dragon flies low in the sky, swooping down to breath fire through its gaping jaws. In pure disbelief she barely registers someone screaming at her, telling her to move out of the path of open flame. She shakes her head and dives for an open tower, its roof already aflame. A searing wall of heat blasts right past her, where mere moments ago she had laid oblivious. Adrenaline courses through her veins, her body alive and ready to act. Out of pure habit she goes to reach behind her back, for her weapon, but much to her dismay her wrists are still bound and her blade in someone else's possession.
She frantically searches the sparse room, finding nothing that could be of use. Cursing under her breath she bounds up the stone steps, her footfalls echoing alongside the destruction outside. An eruption of stone and dust explodes just ahead of her, rending the wall a gaping hole. Coughing away the fog of dust from her lungs she lets out a yelp of surprise when a massive, black head appears through the hole. She dives for the ground as soon as she sees the ball of roiling flame forming in the back of the dragon's maw. Sure enough a stream of roaring fire erupts from above, stray flames licking at her arms and face. The heat ceases and the aching tower lets out a sigh of relief as the dragon takes off.
She struggles to her feet, her legs trembling with both adrenaline and fear, and peers through the hole left by the dragon's sudden intrusion. A building rests below her, its roof torn asunder by the dragon's lingering flame. Without even thinking, she leaps for it, her hair whipping around her wildly as she tumbles through the air. She hits the ground with a thud, tumbling uncontrollably due to bound hands that do nothing to help her maintain a smooth landing. She jumps to her feet and runs out of the burning home, attempting to get her bearings.
But she is only met with screams. The terrified cries of the innocent as they flee from vicious flames and wicked talons. Their cries tear at her heart, burdening her, yet she knows there is nothing to be done. Bound and weaponless, she is useless in the moment. So she takes off, drowning out their screams with the sound of her own ragged breathing. She rounds the corner into the clearing, her eyes locked on the gates to exit the now decimated town.
Without warning, the very earth beneath her tired feet shifts and groans as the massive black behemoth lands in front of her.
It's as if time itself slows to a crawl.
Flames raging all around her, ashes and sparks dancing through the air like motes of light, her dark hair flying around her face with the waves of heat; and the eyes of what could only be a demon, peering straight into her. She locks gazes with the dragon, tiny pin pricks of red glowing among a sea of ebony as they search her. Its gaze violates her, holds her in place as she remains transfixed. She notices the ball of blue and red flame that begins to form at the back of the dragon's throat, yet she is stuck in it's trance, unable to move under its watchful stare.
"Move, Fareeha!"
A force slams into her side, sending her sprawling amongst the dirt and rubble, her flailing limbs tangling with another's. Fire and smoke erupts just above her head, singing her hair. Suddenly Ralof pops into her vision, his face smeared with ash and blood, his clear eyes swimming with panic and something else; determination.
"We've got to get out of here!" He yells while jumping to his feet. Fareeha nods, still in a bit of a daze, before clambering to her sore legs. The dragon lets out a mighty roar, but takes off, leaving them behind with nothing but a rush of air and the destruction left by its wake.
Ralof grabs her by her hands and begins running toward a tower that had somehow managed to come through relatively unscathed. They rush through the wooden door, Ralof barricading it behind them once they were in the clear.
Fareeha, now overcome with her thoughts and the events that had just transpired, collapses to her knees.
Ralof, his face flooding with concern and lingering fright, rushes to her side, "Are you alright?" He asks as he pulls out a small dagger and cuts the binds that bound her hands together.
Relief pours through her wrists as they are liberated, but panic swells inside her chest like a tidal wave. "No, no I'm not alright, I'm barely in Skyrim for a day and I get nearly killed twice! And a dragon? How is that even possible!? They're only supposed to exist through legends!" Fareeha can feel the anger seeping into her voice, rising up her throat. Of all the things she had been prepared for, a dragon was not one. She lets out a tired sigh, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't yell, I know it's not your fault." She places a hand on the Nord's shoulder, "Thank you for saving me, I may owe you my life."
"Nay, don't worry about it, besides you've got a right to be worked up." His face falls, his brow creasing as he frowns, "And this dragon, They're supposed to be extinct, nothing but creatures told out of tales to frighten younglings, and no one's seen a dragon since the dragon wars. It just doesn't make sense. But right now, we need to get out of here, in case he decides to show up again. Come on."
Fareeha follows in step behind him, matching pace with his jog. Her mind is a wild mess, a jumble of thoughts that scramble over one another to be comprehended. She shakes them away, forcing herself to stay focused on the task at hand; escaping. But no matter how hard she tries, she just can't seem to get the blonde woman out of her head. She wonders if she escaped, or if she too, was taken during the attack. She's not quite sure why her mind keeps wandering to this woman, but regardless, she hopes that she got out unharmed.
A hushed voice breaks through her thoughts, "Imperials, watch out."
Fareeha peers around and over Ralof's shoulder, into the next room. Three Imperials stand close together, looking just as confused and frightened as they did. For a split second she feels sympathy for them, but that sympathy quickly turns to resentment. Besides, they had condemned her to death just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She looks at Ralof and nods, preparing herself to attack. Ralof is the only one with a weapon, his little dagger poised in his hand.
Ralof swiftly rushes across the room, his dagger plunging into the ribs of the unsuspecting Imperial. The man collapses to the ground, his sword still sheathed in his belt. Obtaining that discarded weapon becomes Fareeha's top priority as she leaves the safety of the wall. She dives forward, her hand outstretched to pull the shortsword from its scabbard. Her fingers wrap around the hilt and she yanks, freeing the weapon. Jumping to her feet, sword branded before her, her mind shifts to battle mode.
One of the Imperials screams something about his fallen companion as he charges at Ralof, ready to avenge, while the last one steps towards Fareeha, his stance ready. She easily deflects his first blow, and the remaining follow up advances. His attacks are too shallow and quick, allowing her to easily exploit his openings. Seeing her chance, she flips her sword the opposite direction and swiftly strikes his head with the steel pommel of her sword. He slides to the ground, unconscious.
Ralof finishes his opponent off, though not as mercifully as Fareeha's. He glances at the body at Fareeha's feet and just shrugs before heading forward.
They advance through the keep, the sounds of destruction becoming muffled and eventually, stopping all together. Their footsteps echo against the stone hallways as they run. They pick off any Imperials they come across, though Fareeha tries not to kill any of them. It doesn't always work. She didn't see the need in killing these men and women. They were just as surprised by the situation as she was, that, and the fact that she didn't want to be making enemies this early on in her visit to Skyrim.
That changes however, when she spots the man carrying her sword in the next room.
He is alone, searching hastily through barrels and drawers, scavenging for supplies. Ralof takes a step forward but is stopped when Fareeha's hand pushes him back.
"He's mine." She makes eye contact with Ralof and he nods, understanding.
She steps into the room, firelight sending little shadows dancing across the walls from the fireplace. The huge man turns around with a gasp, his hand already reaching for her claymore.
"You!"
"I believe you have something of mine." Fareeha states, her eyes narrowing on her sword, "Return it and I will let you live."
The Imperial looks her up and down and laughs, clearly not threatened. "How about I kill you instead, and keep the sword?"
Fareeha sighs, but anger pulses in her veins. Even though she was tall, she was still much smaller than the man before her, and without armor, but that did not matter. She was going to get her blade back one way or another. "You can try."
The Imperial grasps her sword with both his hands and lunges. She dodges at the last second, feeling her blade cut through empty air. She moves behind him, preparing to attack his legs, but with surprising speed the Imperial manages to block the attack. She leaps backward, as he lunges again. Except this time he is too quick, forced to hold her ground, her shortsword collides with the greatsword. Her arms scream at her as she pushes against the weight, the sound of grating metal screeching in her ears. With one mighty push, she forces the Imperial back and rams her weapon into his gut. Blood squirts from his mouth as his eyes widen. He slumps forward as she yanks her blood soaked sword out of him, red splashing against the floor. Feeling no remorse, she steps over his now dead body and grasps her claymore. The familiar weight in her hand feels comfortable, and she allows herself a small smile.
"Shor's bones, you really did him in there," Ralof steps around the corner, his brow lifted in surprise, "He got what was coming to him." His gaze falls on her weapon, "That's a beautiful sword you got."
"Yes," Fareeha's fingers lightly trail the intricate symbols carved into the crossguard, "I had it crafted back in my homeland, long ago." She bends down and retrieves her belt and harness from the fallen Imperial before strapping it to her back. "Shall we?"
Ralof gives her a warm smile and nods, both of them eager to escape the keep. Within little time, a streak of sunlight splits the darkness through an opening, a symbol of what awaits them outside. Shielding her eyes, Fareeha steps through the opening, and out into the fresh air.
Ralof lets out a joyful laugh as he inhales, his eyes sparkling in the natural light. Fareeha feels herself smiling too, but that smile is wiped off her face when the heavy rush of wings fills the air.
"Get back, hide!" Ralof urges as he scrambles behind a large boulder. Fareeha follows quickly, ducking under it just as a massive black shape fills the sky. The spiked dragon roars but flies past them, unaware of their presence.
Fareeha releases the air in her lungs that she had been holding in relief. The two tentatively step out from behind the rock once they are sure that the dragon is long gone.
"That was close, I don't want to be around when he comes back," Ralof says, his eyes squinting in the sun, "There's a tiny village not far from here, Riverwood. I could take you, I have a sister there, she'll help you with supplies if you'd like."
"That would be much appreciated, yes. And Ralof, thank you, you really saved me back there."
Ralof laughs, loud and pure, "I already told you friend, it's no problem. Besides, you look like the kind of person that would help if the roles were reversed."
"You are correct," Fareeha says with a smile, "Now, we should be on our way."
"Of course, follow me."
The sounds and smells of the forest swarm Fareeha's senses as she trails behind Ralof. The climate, the temperature and vegetation are so different from what she is used to. The warm air is now replaced with a harsh cold that bites at her cheeks and nose, but at the same time, refreshes her. The ground is hard and rocky beneath her sturdy travel boots, gravel crunching with each step. Tall jagged peaks stand tall and proud in the distance, and a river peacefully flows beside the path she treads. And of course the snow. A thick layer of frost paints the trees, yet snow still dusts the ground. Fascinated, she reaches down and scoops up some into her hand, surprised by just how cold it really is. She studies the snowflakes and the way they slowly melt to freezing water that dribbled between her numb fingers.
Eventually, the village known as Riverwood comes into view.
Walking under the wooden archway, she enters behind Ralof. She instantly becomes aware of people staring, though it doesn't bother her. Whispers of dragon sightings hang in the air as the villagers gossip and speculate. She ignores them and turns back to Ralof, who is winding his way towards a woodmill that turns with the river.
He introduces her to his sister, Gerdur, who eyes her suspiciously, but still offers her supplies. Ralof invites her inside their home for food, which she gladly accepts.
Now, with a steaming bowl of stew, fresh baked bread and a glass of mead, she realizes just how hungry she really is. She polishes off her meal, thanking Gerdur for her hospitality. Ralof passes her a bag filled with travel supplies, food and water and a small amount of money.
"Ralof, you really don't need to do this, you've already done so much for me." Fareeha objects as her eyes widen over her gift.
"Nonsense! Take it, I insist." Ralof smiles as he claps his hand over her shoulder. "Just use some of that money wisely!"
"I will, I promise." Fareeha smiles, "Thank you, to both of you." She turns to Gerdur and nods her head in respect, "But I should be on my way now. Do you know where the next big city is?"
"Whiterun, it's not far from here," Gerdur answers, "Just follow the road out of town, you can't miss it."
Fareeha steps toward the door, saying one last goodbye before heading back out into the cold. She visits a little shop before departing the quaint village, purchasing gloves, wool socks and a fur cloak to ward off the bitter cold.
Newly equipped with warmer gear, she steps past the boundary of the village and back onto rural road. With her claymore secured to her back, she feels finally prepared to begin her journey.
To find her mother.
A/N: So this is just an AU that's been in my head since I got the game and I have a lot planned for it. Feel free to let me know if you liked it and wish to see more! I'll probably post updates every Sunday, but that might not always happen if I get too busy.