Hey folks! Before we get into this, I want to say that this story was heavily inspired by Zoop's "The Dragonborn's Keeper" possibly one of my favorite Skyrim fics of all time. To this day, I still go back and reread it. Please go give that a read if you like this chapter, as I'm sure you'll love that one as well. Thank you and enjoy.
I awoke in a place that was not in my warm bed, not in my house, and definitely not in Arizona. Twas the cold, hard ground that I lay upon, leaving my back stiff and sore in places as I forced myself to sit up. What.. the fuck? Where am I and why am I outside... in the woods? We don't even have those where I live. And it's snowing in the middle of summer! Wherever I am, it must be far, far away.
Have I been kidnapped? My hands aren't bound and I'm not gagged, so my kidnapper clearly didn't do a very good job. I stared down at the t-shirt and pajama pants I fell asleep in last night, now damp with snow.
Focus, Sara. I forced myself to look around, to maybe get a glean on my surroundings. I was in a tundra-esque location, sparsely covered in pine trees and mounds of snow. If anything, I'd have to be in Flagstaff, though that doesn't explain the snow in summertime. There doesn't seem to be any notable landmarks nearby and I'm just sitting in an empty clearing.
Empty except for a single stump, not 10 feet away. I can just barely see something resting on its surface. My instincts are telling me to check it out, so I oblige, forcing myself to my feet, I immediately groan out in pain. Everything hurts. My joints are stiff and ache with the effort of righting myself and if they could talk, they'd be screaming. What the hell happened to me last night?
I only waddle two-to-three feet before another uncomfortable feeling makes itself known. Not only am I chilled to the bone, but the underside of my shirt is absolutely drenched. I guess sleeping in the snow will do that to you. Well, that's just great. I'm not sure who's cereal I pissed in to deserve this.
It takes a shameful amount of time for me to make my way to the stump. My limbs are refusing to cooperate with me, my movements clunky and unfamiliar, and it takes nearly all my energy. By the time I'm looking down at the swirling patterns in the wood, my teeth are chattering quite noisily and my fingers are going numb. A single, wooden bow lies neatly upon its surface, along with three arrows, arranged almost as if they were set out just for me.
Well, this is... strange. A rather unconventional weapon, sitting not ten feet away from where I woke up on the only surface nearby, placed perfectly? Firstly, I live in a suburban area. We don't really need weapons, let alone something like a bow. Second, I can't even shoot the damn thing! Oh god, what if I'm in some Hunger Games type of scenario...
My eyes dart around, looking for someone, something, any sort of life. The coast is clear. I'm all alone in these woods, the only sign of life being the chirping of the birds in the trees above. I take my bow with bright red hands and clumsily try to figure out how to put it on my back like in video games. It takes me about five, freezing minutes to do so. With no quiver to put my arrows, I just shove them down the hem of my pants halfway so that they're sticking out a bit, for easy access. Just in case.
Weapon acquired, I wander blindly into these unfamiliar woods. Where am I? Who put me here? How did I get here? Why? Is this gonna end up like the Wrong Turn movies or something? All I can think of is some creep sneaking into my house and taking me here to play in their sick game and my family weeping when they finally discover I'm missing. I'm so out of it, I almost miss the faint clashing in the distance. Clashing... of what?
I follow the noise, the only other indication of something alive - my feet are burning from the cold. I'm worried now, about the possibility of frostbite. I'm barefoot in at least three inches of snow. I don't know a lot about frostbite, but I'm pretty sure this prickly feeling and numbness aren't good signs... All feeling is gone from my toes, let me tell you. Hopefully, whatever that sound is, is people who can help me and not my kidnapper.
I'm about to walk into another clearing when - fuck! I hastily duck behind a tree that is nearly too thin to even cover my body, taking in a shaky breath. Oh, fuck. Yeah, there's people and there's a lot of 'em. Either I just walked into a seriously intense larping session, or these people are trying to kill each other with swords. I peek past the tree to watch the spectacle; two groups, separated by uniform, are engaged in combat with each other.
I can't help thinking one side looks oddly reminiscent to Roman soldiers, while the other side has no real group I can relate them to. Blue and brown? If I could just get a closer look... Thunk. I nearly choke as an arrow sinks itself into the tree I'm hiding behind, only a couple inches above my head. That was a bit too close for comfort... Hopefully that was just a stray and not intentionally aimed at me. I look around for the perpetrator with wild eyes. If I'm wrong, another arrow could be headed straight for me.
When I finally decide I'm probably safe, I dare to peek again. Blood stains the snow in patches. Real blood. There are grunts and screams and the clash of steel on steel, the heavy scent of iron and sweat wafting into my nostrils. What the hell have I just walked into? Maybe.. Maybe I should just leave. These people don't seem like they would help me...
I turn, ready to haul ass in the opposite direction. I only make it several feet before something collides into me hard and I'm knocked painfully onto the ground, feeling the arrows in my waist band stab painfully into my skin. The culprit and I grunt simultaneously as I sink into a deeper end of snow, thankfully saving my arm from being utterly destroyed. Oh, shit.. Fucking hell, man! Who the?-
Once I finally managed to lift my head to properly yell at the offender, the words died in my throat. I'm met with the most horrifying thing I've ever seen. It's.. It's an Orc. A real, live Orc. How did I not hear him coming? Unlike me, the creature was not knocked on his ass when we collided and was currently staring daggers at me. Oof, if looks could kill. It didn't take much to determine that he was indeed looking at me, despite those strange eyes and facial proportions.
He's a mountain of sheer muscle, towering over me from where I lay prone, looking from me to a knapsack discarded in the snow. He must've dropped it when he rammed into me like semi-truck, the bastard. His skin was an off-putting olive green with sparkly chartreuse eyes to match, coated in a dark black paint smudged all over his face in strange tribal patterns. The dude had tusks, real tusks, though they weren't nearly as imposing as I would've imagined on an Orc and - get this - he had spikes above each brow-bone. Four on each side. Now, I don't know a thing about Orc physiology, but that's fuckin' weird.
Thick black locks styled in a mohawk stopped just short of his nape and he was wearing armor. Real fucking armor, not that fake cosplay shit. I felt how utterly real it was when he slammed into me full force like a fucking train. He looks like what I call a bandit. With that thought.. my eyes dipped to his waist, where a gnarly looking scimitar hung from it's sheath on his hip. Oh, fuck. This can't be real right now. Is he gonna kill me with that thing?
When I looked back up, I knew he knew that I was about to bolt. I could take my chances with those people in the clearing. If anything, maybe I could use the chaos to escape. The Orc put his hands up slowly in a sign of surrender, watching me warily and actually kind of confused.
"Take it easy," he grunted low in his throat, moving ever so calmly towards the knapsack.
I didn't even wait for him to finish talking before I flung myself to my feet, unsheathing my bow rather clumsily. I attempted to knock an arrow, but it just slipped out of my hands and into the snow. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was giving me a look that implied I must be royally stupid, but made no move to attack me - hell, he would've won even If I had shot the damn thing. A single arrow isn't gonna stop an Orc this size...
"Stay back!" I cried as I scrambled away, my voice two octaves too high. This seemed to piss him off even more, if that was even possible.
"Keep it down, woman!" he snarled, creepy eyes darting towards the battle before returning to me, taking a hesitant step towards me that told me he would make me if I didn't. "I'll be taking my things and leaving - don't cause me any trouble."
I just stared at him, my mouth opening and closing like a fish as I fumbled for something to say. Yes, sure! Take them and go! Any of those things would have sufficed, but instead I just babbled like a baby. He didn't wait for my answer, just dove for his bag and hefted it over his shoulder like it was nothing. That thing looked heavy. Whatever was in there, it must've weighed more than a grown child. Hell, it must've weighed more than me.
I couldn't get another word out before he just turned and sprinted away, sack in hand. I took a couple of steps after him, watching his retreating form desperately.
I could only stare after him, feeling the adrenaline slip away and the cold return. I was shivering almost violently at this point. Warmth. I need warmth. I looked back towards the battle through a section of trees; the battle had concluded. The Romans were surrounding the blues in a circle, all pointing their swords at them. The blues had clearly surrendered, their hands behind their heads. I crept closer to get a better look.
The blues were heavily outnumbered now, and Roman soldiers on horses came riding up, surrounding them. Would they be killed? What on Earth is going on here? Should I go out now and ask for help? Will I be killed if I do? What choice do I have, though... They started rounding up the men by the time I finally decided to reveal myself.
I am immediately affronted by several Romans noticing my approach. This close, I am recognizing the armor in the back of my head. It vaguely reminds me of Skyrim... The Imperials in that game dress the same exact way. That's strange. My anxiety skyrockets when they all pull their swords on me and I raise my hands weakly in surrender.
"Please, I mean no trouble. I'm lost and I need help." I tried to explain to the soldiers, but they just glared at me, not moving a muscle.
A soldier on a horse rides up to me and my eyes nearly pop out of my head. I'm not mistaken. That's General Tullius from Skyrim. I've sided with them too many times not to recognize him. No way... is this really happening right now? He comes to a stop in front of me, looking down from his perch as he grips the reigns.
"Strange that you'd only reveal yourself after the battle. Tell me: are you one of the Stormcloaks? Don't attempt to lie. It will do you no good."
"No, no! I'm just... a traveler. I need directions, that's all!" I'm shaking, the cold and my anxiety not helping in the least.
He squints at me for several moments before he opens his mouth.. and closes it. A voice calls out from behind me, promptly interrupting General Tullius. I swirl around to look.
"Captain! Look what we've found." calls a soldier, dragging up a wildly struggling and unfortunately familiar face.
In between three soldiers, one on each side, is the Orc. A fourth strides up holding his precious knapsack, looking all too pleased to have caught the man. The Orc is significantly more bloody than the last time I saw him and seething, his eyes darting around from face to face. He stops on mine and holds my gaze - if I didn't know any better, I'd think he wanted me dead.
"You!" he bellows, the Imperials holding him back to the best of their ability. "You gave me away, didn't you?"
The General looks to me, his eyebrow raised inquisitively. My heart rises to my throat.
"Know each other, do you?" he asks me, the accusation clear as day.
Oh, fuck. This guy is gonna get me dragged down with him. Anything I say now might implicate me...
"No, he just bumped into me while I was walking. We don't know each other, I swear!"
"She's lying." the Orc spat, blood dripping from his mouth and onto the snow. I cringed at the sight.
Another party sidled up beside Tullius and I recognized her as Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador. She was beautiful, much more so than in the game with her high cheekbones and golden skin. She gave a rather bored sigh.
"Do we really have time for such matters? Take them both and be done with it. I doubt any would miss an Orc savage and his accomplice." her voice grated on my ears just as it did in the game.
"No! Please, I..."
The General sighed and turned his horse away, looking like he'd already decided. The desperation hit me full force when he gave the guards an unsympathetic wave of his hand and they detained me. I struggled against my captors and screamed bloody murder, but they clearly had zero tolerance when I did it because I got a punch to the gut. I went down on my knees, spitting up despite myself. They don't let go, forcing me to just dangle limply in their grasps. I don't have any time to register what happens next because an elbow to the temple equals an unconscious Sara. All goes black.
The creaking of wheels and back and forth swaying is what woke me up. I groggily blinked the sleep from my eyes, not that I got much rest in this uncomfortable position and whimpered in pain. I was sore everywhere and the tenderness of my body hit me right off the bat as my memories came back to me in full force. The battle. The Orc. General Tullius. K.O.
Hazily, I glanced up and met sea blue eyes. Ralof sat across from me, dressed in his Stormcloak getup and looking very, very real - and concerned. I had to resist reaching out and touching him to confirm it. Then I realized I couldn't if I tried. My hands were bound tightly in my lap, the thick ropes already chafing on my wrists. My pajama's had been swapped out to the prisoner rags, just like in the game. This.. is absolutely insane. Or perhaps the most realistic dream I've ever had.
"You alright, Lass? That Imperial hit you real good." Ralof asked, but I was too busy having an existential crisis.
This... I've played through this a hundred times. Maybe more. And now... I was in it. Does that mean that I'm the Dragonborn? I have to be, if I'm in this position. A familiar deep voice to my left caught my attention.
"Don't think she heard you, Nord." grunted the Orc. "Churl that she is, doubt she'd even understand you if she did."
My eyes snapped over to him, narrowed in annoyance. Oh, great. I'm stuck with this fucker. Since when is there an Orc in the opening? We sat shoulder to shoulder and I was uncomfortably squished in between him and Ulfric Stormcloak to my right. I shrunk into myself, finding I favored my right side and leaned more that way, away from the beast. What luck, to be crushed between two lumbering men. My arms were pushed in front of my chest so tightly I thought I would suffocate.
"Leave her be, Orc." snapped Ralof, shooting the man a pointed look before returning his softening gaze to me. "Walked into that Imperial ambush, same as us, eh?"
I sighed and gave a weak nod, gesturing vaguely to the Orc, "If it weren't for this brute, I wouldn't be here."
"I could say the same." The Orc hissed rather heatedly- I felt his spittle land on my cheek. His lip was puffy and bruising, likely from being beat up. He deserves it.
"What are you even talking about?" I cried in frustration. "I didn't do anything, damn it!"
"What-" he began, only to be cut off by the spindly thief beside Ralof.
"Who cares! We're all gonna die and it's all these Stormcloak's faults! Damn you, Ulfric..." the thief shouted and began rambling on about his hatred of the Stormcloaks, Ulfric and how close he was to escaping, yada, yada.
I looked around and we were headed down the mountain path leading into Helgen, the carts bumping along painfully. It was still fucking cold and I was pretty sure I was gonna lose a finger or two at this point. The air was frigid and sent a chill down my spine, goosebumps appearing all over my skin. That's when I noticed that they'd taken my bra, the bastards. Can a girl get a fucking break around here? I suppose not, since we're headed for the chopping block.
Oh, right. How had I completely forgotten about our destination? The thief was just screaming about our impending dooms and everything. It should be fine.. If Alduin shows, God help me, everything will be fine. I can't believe I'm praying for a dragon to show up and raze a village to the ground.
The rest of the ride was damn near silent, except for Ralof prattling on about his youth once we were inside the gates. I was twiddling my thumbs nervously, eyeing the executioner as he came into view, and I swear he looked right back at me. I heard as people cursed us, cursed the Stormcloaks and called for our deaths behind me.
I felt more than heard the Orc sigh as his breath hit me square in the face. When I spared him a glance, he was looking at me, resting his elbows on his thighs.
"You didn't turn me in, did you?" he sounded frustrated.
What? I scanned his features, trying to determine that expression on his face. Remorse? Regret? Disappointment? Did he seriously believe I got him caught?
"No!" I replied with equal emotion, giving him an annoyed look before returning my gaze to my hands.
And then, before I knew it, we were coming to a stop.
"End of the line. Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us." Ralof announced grimly.
Not very comforting, man. I followed after Ralof and to my discomfort, the Orc was behind me. I hopped down with slight difficulty, barely able to even feel my feet anymore - I couldn't feel the ground beneath me and nearly face-planted when my legs gave out.
It was then I noticed the massive height difference of everyone around me. I was the shortest, to be brief. The Orc towered over me, meeting my nervous eyes for a second before I hastily glanced away. He had to be over 7'0''. Ulfric was called first and went to join the growing execution line, which is when the thief made a break for it, taking an arrow in the back.
Fumbling anxiously with my numb fingers, it was my turn. Hadvar looked at me strangely as I stepped forward, scanning over his list with an eyebrow quirked.
"What's your name, kinsmen?" he called.
It took me a minute to respond, my voice suddenly frail. "Sara."
He scanned his list with a quick eye, blinked, and then looked towards his captain. Just like in the game, I noted.
"Captain. What should we do? She's not on the list."
The woman he was referring to stood off to the side with her arms crossed, staring at me hard. She smirked. The bitch actually smirked at me. "Forget the list. She goes to block." she declared, effectively sending me walking to my doom as Hadvar dismissed me.
Oh, you'll get what's coming to you. I always pick Ralof so you end up dead, anyway. Ralof is just a side beneft.
My nerves were off the charts at this point. If Alduin doesn't show, I'm dead. If he does, I might also be dead. My chances are slim here. I vaguely registered the Orc getting his name called behind me, something starting with an M; Malork, Malok, probably one of those... He seemed to have the same situation of not being on the list, but the Captain eagerly sent him to join the ever-growing line.
He came up sluggishly behind me, stopping when we were side by side, looking as defeated as I felt. I made eye contact with him, desperate for some sort of comfort. I could tell he was realizing it too; we're about to die. And despite our earlier dispute, we had a shared moment of fear. When I heard the distant roar of Alduin in the distance, I nearly jumped for joy. Tears were already welling up in my eyes.
Just like in the game, everyone dismissed it as nothing. But my eyes were on the skies, searching for my savior. Come on, you big lizard. If you save me, I'll be your own personal hype-woman. I'll make T-shirts. The priestess began reciting her verses, arms raised to the heavens - she was quickly interrupted by the red-haired Stormcloak.
I don't know about you, but I'd never cut off the only person stalling my death. It doesn't make you brave. Just dumb. He waltzed himself up to the block, where the Captain kicked him down by the backs of his knees and he collided jaw-first with the wooden block. It didn't help that he was facing us, his eyes wild - I had the jitters.
"Come on, I haven't got all morning. My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" he yelled to no one in particular.
I couldn't look as the axe came down. I heard the thunk and then cries of outrage all around me, some cheers. Ralof whispered under his breath to my right. I chanced a look at the Captain, but her eyes were already on me. I gulped, hard.
"Next, the Nord in the rags!"
Oh, fuck. I guess that's me because all eyes immediately turned to stare at me. They were all looking at me with remorse. The Orc suddenly grabbed my upper arm and brought me in close, causing me to gasp.
"I'm sorry." he whispered ruefully.
My eyes watered unconditionally as he dropped my arm and I forced myself to start walking towards the block before they made me. Everything was in slow motion. I heard another roar but the Captain didn't care. I approached the fresh corpse that they'd barely even nudged aside and positioned myself accordingly, staring down at the bloodied wood below me. Oh, god. If there's a God, save me now.
She kicked me down just as harshly and I grunted as I landed smack dab into the wood, feeling my face slide across the wet surface. I gagged. The Stormcloak's decapitated head was in front of me, sitting pretty in the basket, his lifeless eyes still wide and looking right at me. Alduin, where are you?
I force my head to the right, smearing the blood on my left cheek as I look at the other prisoners. Ralof is already praying. The Orc is just staring, looking particularly haunted. I close my eyes. He'll be here. He will.
He won't.
The blade comes crashing down on my neck. The last thing I feel is the blade cleaving through my flesh and then black.