Prologue:

Swims-in-the-Rain shivered in the brisk air and wrapped her fur cloak around her shoulders a bit tighter. Her clothes were quite thin for the environment and she only had a small steel dagger and a few spells to protect her but Rain didn't let those things worry her. Skyrim was colder than she preferred but the pine forest smelled wonderful and she loved having her favorite color displayed all around her in the fresh leaves and even in her own reflection on the puddles that had formed from the earlier rain. She sat at the base of a tree and rested her head on the trunk. Relaxing in the Skyrim wilderness like it was the beaches of Elsweyr wasn't the safest thing to do but she was mapless and lost and she much preferred for help to come along instead of wandering and getting more hopelessly lost. Her feathers perked up when she heard the distant sounds of marching and chatter.

"Finally," she murmured standing up. Where there were soldiers, there was work. And she really needed the coin. She waited by the side of the road, green scales blending with the green forest, as the soldiers marched past her. She jogged forward to tag along with the very last pair of them, a red haired Nord man and a blonde green eyed woman.

"Would such strong soldiers mind much if a kindly stranger joined them?" she cooed with her throaty voice, "I have a feeling I would be safer traveling in the company of capable warriors." She giggled lightly and tossed her head side to side looking up at both of them.

The red haired man grunted, "Get lost, lizard."

"Ah, b-but, I would be no trouble," she added hastily, "I'm merely a lost traveler. Please, when your men rest, allow me to perform some magic tricks for coin. The entertainment could...boost morale!" It wouldn't make her as much money as her original plan but the Nord's attitude painted a clear picture of how little they would want those particular services. She frowned at the thought. She could of sworn The Lusty Argonian Maid was as popular in Skyrim as it was in Cyrodiil.

The woman Nord gave a sharp barking laugh, "Not only is she a damn sewer swimming reptile, she's a dirty magic user too!" The two Nords shared a laugh as Swims-in-the-Rain's shoulders sagged. "Guess they won't be wanting those services either," she assessed mentally. She had one final offer but it was one she didn't want to ask.

"I can...clean...or carry...supplies," she winced.

The woman raised an eyebrow, "What do you think?" she jabbed her comrade in the ribs with her elbow.

The man snorted, "I think she should f-" an arrow to his chest cut his sentence off.

Rain screeched and turned on her heel to run for the nearby woods only to collide with the incoming Imperial ambush and be knocked out cold.

Unbound:

It took a few brief moments for Swims-in-the-Rain to realize just what it meant for her to be in a cart with prisoners of war. All she could do was tremble, stare wide-eyed straight ahead, and take deep shuddering breaths. The Nords were grumbling amongst themselves but Rain wasn't paying attention to their words.

When the cart rolled to a stop she found herself clambering off and almost falling forward before steadying herself and staring mutely as an Imperial guard asked her name.

"Swims-in-the-Rain," she gasped, "But I was called Rain." She shivered violently and wanted to scream when she heard the Imperial (perhaps Nord? she could never tell the human races apart) offer to send her remains to Black Marsh.

"I have no family in Black Marsh! I have no family anywhere!," she meant to shout. But she only nodded dumbly and staggered over to the line of prisoners waiting to be executed. This was the end. There would no longer be a trace of Swims-in-the-Rain left on Nirn except a rotting corpse. Rain wondered if there was anyone who would miss her. Who would ask what ever became of the lush viridian Argonian with the matching green feathers and gaudy purple face paint. The one who could flip and twirl and bend like no other. Would any of the old regulars in Cheydinhal miss her? No one at the House would that's for certain. Not after what she did. Rain held back a sob as the realization hit her that she wouldn't be here if she had just swallowed her pride and buried her temper.

Rain retched when the first Nord's head fell to the executioner's axe.

"Next! The lizard!"

Swims-in-the-Rain stepped forward. She flinched when she heard a distant roar but otherwise continued to walk towards the wooden block. As much as she tried to avert her eyes, she found herself glancing at the decapitated body before kneeling down shakily and resting her head on the chopping block.

"Why, Rain...why couldn't you let it go?" she thought.

She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She could think of no deity for her to pray to. Nothing lay ahead of her now. She stopped shivering.

"What in Oblivion is that!?"

"Dragon!"

Rain's golden eyes snapped open. Around her, the world looked as if it was ending. But the Argonian's life, for now, was not.

Headsman:

He sat outside the tavern drinking a sweet mead that tasted of juniper berries. Children sprinted by him screaming and playing. He smiled, tilted his head back, closed his eyes,and enjoyed the rare Skyrim sun. A butterfly floated by and touched down on his hand. He smiled, brushed it off, and it resumed it's flight.

He wasn't quite sure why the wagons had stopped in Helgen instead of going straight to Solitude but he never really paid attention to what was going on. His job was too simple to really care. He just waited until someone lay their head on the block and down came his axe. No politics, no thinking, just a simple action. It was not very savory but at least he made enough coin to send some help to his sister in the Imperial City so she could feed her–he frowned in thought–nine kids? Was that number too high? He counted off on his fingers the names of his various nieces and nephews. Seven. She had seven children. Four strapping young boys and three hard working daughters. He swallowed down the bottle of mead and opened another one. The rumblings of carts could be heard getting louder and louder.

"Headsman! Prepare your axe!" the Captain snapped. The Executioner grumbled as he did as was commanded. He hauled the axe over to where the chopping block had been placed and stood patiently. It would be nice if they could call him by name every once in a while. People only ever seemed to call him by his title. He rubbed his blind eye and squinted at the cart of prisoners that stopped before him. The Executioner breathed in the cool air and peacefully stared at a pair of birds who were flitting about in the sky. General Tullius' speech about Ulfric Stormcloak's crimes caught his attention. The Executioner raised his eyebrows. Not everyone could say they personally beheaded the leader of the rebellion and Master of the Voice.

He had to admire the first Stormcloak who cut off the Priestess and walked boldly over to the chopping block. As his axe fell down on the man's neck, the Executioner briefly wondered whether he would go to Svongarde. He had fought bravely in the Great War but having to behead fellow Nords left him in doubt. He pushed the thoughts away and his brows briefly knitted in sorrow as a trembling Argonian walked to the block.

The Executioner couldn't help feel a twinge of guilt for the skinny Argonian who was now resting her head on the block. There was no way this lizard was a Stormcloak. They were quite prejudiced. Surely they wouldn't allow an Argonian to join their ranks? Perhaps she was a spy. He settled on that explanation before any more thoughts could keep him from fulfilling his duty.

He prepared to swing his axe down when hell rained down from the sky. He was knocked down and felt some debris hit his head.

"Oh!" he grunted and staggered back up. He wheeled around and noticed the prisoner fleeing for her life. The Executioner looked to General Tullius for orders but he was busy commanding the soldiers. He looked for the Captain, the Thalmor Ambassador, anyone, but the chaos was rampant. He hefted his axe onto his back and ran for the gates. General Tullius stood there directing archers to attack the flying monstrosity. The great black dragon crashed onto the ground and threw a soldier into the air with a flick of his jaws. He took off into the sky as and breathed fire down onto the archers as they scattered out of the way.

The Executioner himself had ran in the other direction the second the dragon had landed. Guilt stopped him in his tracks. A Stormcloak soldier charged past him, war axe in hand, hollering, "True Nords never back down!"

The Executioner turned and followed, grabbing the axe from his back and giving a battle roar. His blood pumped, his vision cleared, his muscles seemed to vibrate with energy. The black dragon had dropped down to the ground again and was snapping at soldiers left and right. His tail was to the Executioner and his jaws were about to clamp down on a wounded soldier when he let out a roar of anger. The Executioner's axe had slammed down on his tail. The wounded soldier managed to crawl away as the dragon turned to face the new annoyance. The Executioner's axe was stuck. The dragon slammed it's tail down on his chest and then took to the sky. The Executioner coughed up blood, his vision blurred, and his muscles ached. He closed his eyes.

A great...noise...woke him. When he opened his eyes, to his surprise, they were both working. He was in Imperial armor but still had his large headsman's axe strapped to his back. The sky above was glimmering and beautiful. The land that lay before him was lush and everything seemed tinted with a faint purple blue aura. Far away he could make out a great mead hall, made small by the distance. His heart beat quickened as he realized where he was. He couldn't stop himself from running with a grin on his face towards the mead hall. He blinked rapidly. Was his sight clouding up or was there a fog rolling in? He kept running as the fog thickened and thickened until he was surrounded by walls of soupy gray. Where was he running too? He slowed to a walk. His warrior instincts tugged at his brain in alarm. He hefted his axe in his hands and continued to walk aimlessly through the fog. In the distance, he heard a roar that chilled his bones.

The Road to Riverwood:

"You think I am a prostitute?" Rain cocked her head to one side and looked at Hadvar curiously. The soldier and the freed prisoner were making their way to Riverwood and had been chatting about their lives.

The Nord's cheeks went red as he babbled, "No, no, it's just...I mean the way you were describing your work...I don't, I'm not judging you of course..." his sentence trailed off into uncomfortable silence. He was beginning to regret trying to get to know the vivid green lizard a bit better.

Rain gave a toothy grin and tugged at his sleeve to stop him in his tracks, "Perhaps you need a demonstration to make things more clear?"

Hadvar gulped, unsure of where this was going.

"Yes, yes, I will show you!" she clapped her hands gleefully and twirled. Rain took a few steps back and arched one hand in a half circle in front of her and twisted the other one behind her so the palm faced outward. She began to spin slowly, the mage's robes she was in began to whip up dust, her hands glowed golden and she threw them up in the air shooting a few sparks to the sky. She pirouetted in place and wrapped whirling golden streams of magic around her body. Her tail lashed and swayed to a rhythm only she could hear. She slowed her wild spinning movement and stood facing Hadvar.

"You're a ... dancer?"

"And acrobat. At least, part time." she smiled.

"And the other part of the time?"

Rain's only answer was to wink mischievously.

Hadvar looked straight ahead and changed the subject, "So, you know magic. Imperial legion could always use some spellcasters."

Rain growled, "They tried to kill me. That isn't something I let go so easily."

"I know. And I truly want to apologize for that. Please, know the actions of one irritable captain do not represent the whole of the Imperial army." he said rather formally.

She smoothed her feathers back, "The Imperial army did not want to kill me. The Captain did."

Hadvar didn't feel comfortable talking ill of the former captain but nevertheless he nodded in agreement.

Rain chewed on a fingernail, "And she is probably dead. Nothing more I can do about that. I suppose the Imperial Army and I are on neutral terms now."

"Is that a yes?"

"It is a 'I will think about it'," Rain actually wasn't considering the possibility at all, "Maybe when I have–" she froze in mid-stride and pulled her bow from her back.

Hadvar followed her gaze and saw a small pack of three wolves. The wolves sniffed the air and turned towards the travelers. One of them snarled and began to run for the pair closely followed by it's pack mates.

Rain was shooting arrows but few, if any, were making contact. She hissed and spat as her arrows flew every which way. Hadvar wasted no time cleaving into the first wolf with his sword. The Argonian eventually gave up using the bow and joined Hadvar with her two daggers. One of the wolves lunged and buried it's teeth into Rain's arm. She screamed and dropped her daggers. Hadvar hacked into the wolf's neck swiftly killing the beast. Rain stumbled out of the fray casting golden healing spells around her wound. A few more strikes from Hadvar's sword killed the next wolf and, to his pleasant surprise, two iron arrows to the last wolf's skull ended it's life.

"Nice shot." he smirked.

Her mouth opened into a wide grin, "Yes, you were lucky to have me here."

When they passed the Standing Stones Rain wasted no time walking up to the Mage Stone and activating it's blessing.

"Mage? You should have picked Warrior. Would have helped with those archery skills." Hadvar teased.

Rain had given him a knowing smile, "I would like to be fairly decent with the bow one day. But to be a prominent mage...ah, that is truly my heart's desire."

Hadvar shrugged, "I'm not one to judge."