A/N: Hello everyone! ManMadeGod here, with my very first story. Hopefully you'll enjoy it. Also, I'll be keeping the main pairing as a secret for now ;) Reviews are appreciated!

This story is rated M for violence and adult themes in the following chapters.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my Dovahkiin Iona Silver-Fang. Everything else belongs to Bethesda.

Silver Moon-Prologue

She tried opening her eyes, blinking multiple times, trying to adjust her eyes to the bright sunlight. Her head felt as if it was splitting in half, her whole body aching from her earlier struggles and her awkward sitting position.

Wait.

She was sitting and moving. She opened her eyes, ignoring the daggers stabbing her brain and took in her surroundings.

She was on a cart with three Nord men; the brown haired one was clad in rags, the other two wore light armors. The man on her right had his mouth gagged. Their hands were bound.

Alarms went off in her head but there was nothing she could do; she was stripped off of her weapons and armor, had her hands bound and was in a really sluggish state.

She came eye to eye with the man sitting in front of her; he was a good-looking blond Nord with long hair, typical.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake," he said with a slight smile. She couldn't smile so she nodded in return.

"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

She turned her head to the said thief, he looked the man near him in the eye and growled. "Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell!"

Stormcloaks and Imperials. She wanted to slap herself real bad, not only did she got caught while she was trespassing but she also got caught in a political conflict that had nothing to do with her. She kicked herself inwardly, how could she be so stupid and careless?

As she was sulking, the thief nudged her with his foot. "You there. You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloak the Empire wants."

The blond man threw him a dirty look. "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

As the two stared at each other with annoyance, the Imperial Soldier riding the cart barked. "Shut up back there!"

After the command, the thief looked at the man sitting near her and asked in a hushed tone. "What's wrong with him, huh?"

The blond man shouted angrily at the thief. "Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king!"

The thief, unfazed by the blond man's anger, looked at Ulfric carefully, narrowing his eyes. "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" He stopped for a second, gulping. "You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you..." He panicked, fear obvious in his eyes. "Oh gods, where are they taking us?!"

The blond man turned his head to the dirt road ahead. "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

The thief was visibly shaking now. "No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening!"

She was just as scared, if not more, than him. She had been running away from death and now here she was, sitting in a cart with death clawing at the door.

She ran her bound hand on the two pink scars on her left cheek absentmindedly, trying to calm her nerves. Just as she lifted her head to her right, she came eye to eye with Ulfric Stormcloak. She didn't break the eye contact, they held each other's gaze. In the end, she couldn't take his deep blue crushing eyes anymore, so she averted her icy blue eyes to her feet.

She had been cradling her head between her bound arms as she heard the blond Nord speak. "Hey, what village are you from horse thief?"

The thief lifted his head and spat. "Why do you care?"

The blond Nord answered, too relaxed considering the situation they were in. "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

The thief looked down in shame, softly whispering. "Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead."

Another silence followed the conversation. Instead of panicking to death, she slumped in her seat and threw her head back, listening to the sounds the carts and horses made.

When she opened her eyes after trying to find inner peace and failing, she took in her new surroundings. The cart was pulling in to a small, fort-like village. She could observe a tower beneath the walls.

As they arrived to the gate, an Imperial Soldier saluted his superiors. "General Tullius, sir. The headsman is waiting."

General Tullius, as she heard, nodded. Good. Let's get this over with!"

They were pulling up to the village. She put her hands on her chest, searching for her beloved amulet, but it was taken along with everything she had on her.

Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh," whispered the thief, his voice wavering with fear. "Divines, please help me."

She bowed her head down and stared blankly at her bound hands. She was scared and she couldn't do anything to soothe herself.

When she lifted her head, she saw two figures on horseback. The male one was General Tullius, as she heard a while ago; near him was an Altmer woman, she sat on her horse gracefully, watching the passing carts.

The blond man narrowed his eyes, and sneered. "Look at him. General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him," He was hissing with venom dripping from his words. "Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

As they entered the village, the blond Nord looked around. "This is Helgen," He nodded to himself, as if to confirm his words. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in..." A nostalgic look passed over his features but it was quickly replaced with a look of sadness. "Funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

A young boy, pointed at the passing carts and tugged at his father's sleeve. "Who are they, daddy?"

His father patted the young boy's head, turning him towards their house. "Go inside, little cub."

Little boy whined, protesting his father. "Why? I wanted to watch the soldiers!"

His father threw him a hard look, and raised his voice. "Inside the house. Now!"

The little boy turned and ran into the house, muttering an affirmative along the way.

As the cart came to a halt, the thief asked, with a hint of desperation in his voice. "Why are we stopping?"

The blond Nord answered him calmly. "Why do you think?" He took a deep breath. "End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting."

The thief was scared and beads of sweat were visible on his forehead. "No, wait! We're not rebels!"

The blond Nord frowned, his brows knitted. "Face your death with some courage, thief."

Ulfric Stormcloak slowly rose, indicating it was time to go. She also rose to her feet, hardly standing on her bruised legs.

The thief rose as well, shouting. "You've got to tell them we weren't with you! This is a mistake!"

The blond man ignored his comment, hopping off the cart after her. As the thief left the cart as well, muttering something, a female soldier barked. "Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time!"

The carts near them were empty, each had a soldier with a scroll and quill in hand in front of them.

As she looked forward, she saw a built Nord man with a scroll and quill in hand, near him was the female soldier with a stern look.

The blond Nord sighed. "Empire loves their damn lists."

Ignoring the comment, the soldier lifted his head and shouted the first name. Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" the blond man shouted proudly.

"Ralof of Riverwood," the Nord near her smiled softly, winking at her. She couldn't do anything in return.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No!" the thief yelled. "I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" He started running and as he got past the female soldier, he laughed.

"Halt!" The female soldier shouted but he just continued running and laughing. "You're not going to kill me!"

The female soldier shouted in anger. "Archers!"

The thief's sprint of freedom was cut short as an arrow pierced him right between the shoulder blades. He fell face first on the dirt path.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the female soldier asked in annoyance. Silence greeted her words.

"Wait, you there," She looked at the male soldier with the list. "Step forward," She did as she was told, dragging her feet on the dirt ground.

He looked at his list, then looked back at her, a confused look crossing his features. "Who are you?"

She gulped, opened her mouth and rasped. "Iona Silver-Fang."

He eyed her and sighed. "You picked a bad time to come home, kinswoman," He turned towards his superior. "Captain, what should we do? Her name's not on the list."

The said woman was growing impatient. "Forget the list, she goes to the block!"

The soldier nodded. "By your orders, Captain," He turned his attention back to her, a sigh escaping his lips. "I'm sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland. Follow the captain, prisoner."

Iona was going to die. In her homeland, with people she didn't know. She wanted to try running as well. Maybe she would get lucky and succeed.

No.

She was a brave Nord woman, she would disappoint her ancestors, more importantly her parents if she were to run. They died fighting, with courage and honor. She would die with honor and join her parents; Sovngarde awaited.

She turned on the ball of her right foot, following the captain in a slow pace.

She joined all the Stormcloaks around the block. They all held their heads high, despite knowing their heads will be rolling on the cobbles underneath in a few minutes.

"Ulfric. Stormcloak."

General Tullius was standing tall and proud, with his hands on his back, a smug look on his face. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Ulfric Stormcloak looked at General Tullius with hate. He tried saying something but his words were muffled by the gag.

Unfazed, the general kept talking but he was becoming angrier. "You started this war! You plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now, the Empire is going to put you down and restore peace!"

As if it was the echo of General's words, a blood chilling roar was heard as soon as Tullius shut his mouth.

"What was that?" the captain asked, looking around, searching for the source of the sound.

General Tullius was growing impatient. "It's nothing. Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius!" The captain saluted the general and motioned for the priestess clad in dark yellow robes. "Give them their last rites."

The woman nodded, and raised her hands. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines-"

A red-haired Stormcloak jumped forward, frowning. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" he shouted, angry.

The priestess sighed and nodded. "As you wish."

The red-haired man walked towards the block and shouted. "Come on, I haven't got all morning!"

He was roughly pushed on the block by the captain. He turned his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials! Can you say the same?"

The executioner downed his axe on the exposed neck of the red-haired man. It was over as soon as it started; blood spurted out of his cleaved neck and his head slowly fell into the basket.

The captain kicked the lifeless body of the soldier aside, the corpse landed on the dirt ground with a thud.

"You Imperial bastards!" cried a female Stormcloak nearby.

"Justice!" screamed someone behind her.

"Death to the Stormcloaks!" another yelled.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof commented sadly,looking at the ground.

The captain turned the her and screamed. "Next, the Nord woman in rags!"

Her stomach dropped, she was going to die. She was going to die this young as a prisoner, for no reason.

As soon as her name was called, she heard another roar; this time it was clearer, indicating that the source was closer than last time.

"There it is again." the Nord Imperial with the list said, scanning his surroundings. "Did you hear that?"

The captain growled. "I said next prisoner!"

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy," said the Nord Imperial, his voice soft.

She walked to the block, her head held high. When she stopped in front of it, she was roughly kicked on the wooden block, possible bruising her cheek in the process.

It wasn't important though.

She was going to die in a few seconds.

She looked at the tower behind the executioner, a dreamy look in her eyes. She was saying her final prayers as the executioner slowly lifted his axe.

The roar was heard again and Iona gasped when she looked behind the executioner. There, just behind the tower was a black dragon?

"What in Oblivion is that?" Tullius cried, in shock.

"Sentries! What do you see?" asked the captain, scanning the air.

"It's in the town! " somebody screamed as the dragon digged it's claws on the tower. The executioner stumbled forward and fell down with the force of the impact.

Iona slowly lifted her head off of the block, her eyes never leaving the dragon that was watching her closely.

The dragon roared once more, the unearthly voice shaking the ground.
Its huge body and black scales brought darkness to the execution area, blocking the sun.

All the Imperial soldiers unsheathed their weapons, getting ready to attack the giant lizard. Higher-ups were giving orders to the soldiers, some taking townsfolk to safety.

The dragon opened its maw, showing its sword-like teeth. It let out a shout towards the archers that were attacking, all the soldiers were strewn around; some hitting the cobblestone path, some hitting nearby buildings.

War cries and cries of pain were the only things she heard as she ran towards Ralof, who motioned her to come. "Gods won't give us another chance, kinswoman. Let's get going."

Running, Ralof took her to a stone building. She was exhausted and sore. As they walked in, she noticed several lifeless bodies on the floor, two of them were wearing Stormcloak curriasses.

Ralof walked to the two corpses lying on the floor, holding his amulet of Talos. He crouched near them, fully closing their eyes and mumbling prayers. "We'll meet in Sovngarde, brother and sister."
He stood up slowly, motioning the bodies on the floor. "Take her armor and weapons, she won't be needing them anymore," he whispered.

He turned his back to her, so she could dress up. When she was done, she nudged him on the shoulder.

Ralof turned back to her, the ground was trembling beneath their feet. They still could hear the cries of people and shouts of the dragon.

He held her hands, squeezing slightly. "You need to get to Riverwood. Find my sister Gerdur there and give her this," he put a piece of parchment in her right hand. "She will help you to become better, and will probably give you a job so you can get some coin. When you find the cave exit, follow the dirt road, it will take you directly to Riverwood. We'll part now, but if I can help my kinsmen, I'm sure we'll see each other in the future."

She nodded, thanking him and wishing him luck. He smiled slightly and unsheathed his sword, exiting the door to join his brothers.

As he exit the door, Iona stretched as much as her bruises and injuries would allow. Her 'new life' definitely started in a very unexpected way."

"Riverwood it is, then."