Is this the excitement you were looking for?
Isobel's father had always said she was a wild child who would land in a world of hurt at an early age, and she was indeed hurting a great deal when she awoke, feeling herself jostled about against the side of a wagon. Her head was pounding and she hurt all over. A man's voice cut through the mead-induced haze in her head, a whining, frightened sound, complaining of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She wanted to tell him to shut up, but it seemed prudent to keep quiet until she knew where she was. She opened one eye a crack and tried to pull a hand up to shield her eyes, but her efforts were cut short with the rattle of chains. She looked down at her hands to find them manacled together, the chain looped through a metal ring along the side of the wagon. Imperial guards were steering the wagon. She felt a growing pit of unease in her stomach.
"What the..."
"Quiet, lass," came a whisper from behind her.
Isobel straightened up and looked over her shoulder to find a Nord staring back at her. "You."
"The name's Ralof." he said with a smirk.
She looked back at her hands, trying to figure if she could get herself out of this. With no lock picks, it looked rather hopeless. "Yeah, I remember. What the hell have you gotten me into, old man?"
"Oh ho, last night I was an experienced warrior, today I'm an old man?"
"I was well into my cups when you happened along," she hissed. "I can't always be held responsible for my actions."
"You hold your liquor well enough for a little Imperial girl," he snickered. "Is this the excitement you were looking for?"
She snorted and swivelled in her seat again. "Where are we?"
"Skyrim, lass. You've been arrested for crossing the border. You bragged quite loudly about sneaking over for a meal at exactly the wrong moment."
She gaped at that and leaned against the side of the wagon. Unable to think of anything to say, she held her tongue and scanned the others she was with. All Nords, for the most part, one of whom was gagged. He was watching her with great interest, or so it seemed. Although his gag covered half his face, he looked familiar and she tried to remember the night before, how she might have fallen in with these men. They all looked familiar, these Nords, and they were just her type. Big, muscular, marked by battle, drinkers with a more liberal attitude toward a woman like her. She was an Imperial by birth and her father's lineage, but her mother was a Nord, and Isobel was very much like a Nordic woman. She gambled, fought, and drank, and likely had done the last two very recently if her bruises and hangover were an indication. She was also a very charming and randy young woman who was quite comfortable in the company of men. She could imagine herself talking her way into their party, looking for someone to bed down with for the night. A memory of Ralof hitching her up onto his hips as she leaned against a wall came back to her and she groaned.
"Starting to remember are you now, lass? It was a good night...a very good night...until we were arrested."
By the Divines, if I make it out of this alive... "And what sort of trouble are you in, Ralof?"
"We're Stormcloaks."
"Shit." This was not good news. She had crossed the border illegally and was caught with rebels, and to insult to injury, she was an Imperial consorting with the so-called enemy. If she was particularly unlucky, and she felt she was, they would have discovered her cache of stolen goods; her coin purse was certainly gone, if there had been anything in it when they caught her. "Where are they taking us?"
Ralof didn't respond at first and she kicked at his leg. "Where are they taking us, Ralof?"
"Helgen. They haven't exactly said yet, but I imagine we're all to be executed."
Isobel's stomach rolled and she closed her eyes against the sting of tears she thought she felt there, wondering if this was the sort of trouble her father had imagined. Fear and anger raged within her. She had done some stupid things in the past, but this...She opened her eyes and saw the walls of Helgen growing ever larger on the horizon. Swallowing hard against the tightness in her throat, she breathed deeply and began testing her manacles. There had to be a way out of this. She'd gotten herself out of all sorts of trouble in the past. Think, think.
"Relax, girl, you'll hurt yourself."
She scowled at Ralof. "As if losing my head won't hurt. This isn't exactly what I wanted for my birthday," she hissed between clenched teeth. The guards were paying attention to them now.
"Oh, I didn't know you were celebrating. Happy birthday. How old are you, lass? Apparently I'm of an age that I should brag about being with a girl as young and pretty as you."
"Keep it down, back there." a guard warned them.
"Or what, you'll cut my head off?" Isobel retorted in a whisper.
The gagged man chuckled, drawing her attention back to his face. "Seventeen. How can you be so...so...ach. Who is he?" she asked Ralof, jutting her chin toward the other side of the wagon.
"Ulfric Stormcloak."
The smirk on his face managed to bring back more memories of her debauchery over the past few days and she felt her cheeks flush. She'd had a very good run pick pocketing and burgling her way along the Skyrim border and had stopped at an inn to celebrate her birthday with a drink and dinner. Somewhere along the way she had decided not to spend the night alone, and through some massive stroke of terrible luck, had fallen in with the leader of the Stormcloaks and a band of his men. That had surely been the beginning of this end. Isobel Navale, beheaded for wandering off in search of a good time. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.
They were at the keep's gate now, slowing down. The milk drinker was whining even louder, the guards yelling at him, pulling them out of the wagon one by one. Isobel felt numb and tried to convince herself she was dreaming, passed out in a drunken stupor somewhere, anywhere else but here, but the ground was all too real when she stumbled and fell out of the wagon onto her knees. She had never feared death. It seemed too remote, something that happened to old people, and her adventurous streak had shown her that she could defy death. Now, however, her blood ran cold and she thought to plead for her life with the kind looking guard who pulled her up to her feet again. Pride kept her mouth clamped shut and she bit her lip to lock it, watching with some pity as the fearful man tried to run and was shot in the back with an arrow, killed instantly.
And suddenly a guard was demanding to know her name. "Come on, we don't have all day," he snapped irritably.
"I-Isobel Navale of Imperial City, Cyrodiil. This..." Pride quickly went out the window. She should at least try reasoning with the guards. "This is a mistake, an accident, I haven't..."
"An Imperial in the company of these rebels? What, are you a spy?" he scoffed, turning to his captain. "Her name's not on the list."
"Who cares? Bloody deserves what she gets, doesn't she? Little slut whoring around with the Stormcloaks. Won't be long before she's betraying the Empire just like the rest of them."
"Hey, that's not..." she started. The captain slapped her, nearly sending her to her knees again.
She staggered, but held her ground and righted herself to glare at him defiantly. He grabbed her chin and held it tight. "Shut it, bitch, or I'll knock you down a peg or two more before we end you for good. Let's get on with this." He pushed her toward the growing line of men headed for the chopping block.
Isobel's eyes narrowed. Even with her imminent demise looming, she was envisioning ways to make the man pay for the way he'd treated her. The chopping block glistened in the sunlight, and with another twist in her stomach she realized it was wet with blood.
Someone was being forced to his knees and bent over the block. The executioner lifted the axe, dropped it, and the man's head fell into a bucket. The bucket was collected by another hooded man, dumped into a large barrel and put back by the block. Isobel closed her eyes and swallowed hard. This is not how I thought I'd go, not even remotely.A strange sensation rippled through her then, and she rolled her shoulders and lifted her face to the skies, eyes scanning the clouds. A roar in the distance drew everyone's attention. It sounded like a bear.
"Did you hear something?" one guard asked another.
The captain called her name and a hand reached out to grab her arm, pulling her toward the chopping block, and then she was on her knees, her head being forced into place. The smell of blood made her gag. Tears welled up in her eyes and she squeezed them shut, tensing against the inevitable blow, but it didn't come. Again, a strange sensation passed through her body and the roaring sounded as though it was coming closer, and fast. Someone shrieked and a great force of air knocked her over. As Isobel rolled onto her knees, she caught sight of something she'd only ever seen in books, and the cold dread of death that she'd felt earlier paled in comparison to the fear that took hold of her then. A dragon was suspended in the air, mere feet away from her, its attention focused in the opposite direction. A great gout of fire shot out from its mouth and several Imperial guards and a few of Ulfric Stormcloak's men were set ablaze. The force of air from each flap of its monstrous wings stirred up dust and garbage within the courtyard, making it hard for her to see and find her footing.
"Come, lass! Trust me." Ralof reached out to grab her arm and hauled her up off the ground. "Run!"
As she scrambled to her feet, she saw Ulfric finally free himself of his bonds and gag. He lifted his hands to his mouth and shouted something at the dragon, pushing the beast forward as though he had the power of the wind in his voice. He turned and ran toward Isobel and Ralof with some of his men. Ralof tugged at her arm again, pulling her toward the keep.
For what felt like an eternity, it was as though the gates of Oblivion had opened up. Fire, stone, and mortar rained down on the courtyard and the ground shook with such tremendous force, Isobel marvelled that she was able to keep her footing. Everything was a blur and it was unbelievably hot. The sounds of men and women screaming mixed with the flapping of wings and the dragon's roars provided a deafening background for her chaotic struggle to escape. She was scared witless, she realized, but an instinct to survive, and Ralof's grip on her hand, kept her going.
They paused once they were in the confines of the keep, and Ralof and Ulfric talked in hushed tones, both looking over at Isobel every now and then. She stood near the body of another Stormcloak, staring down at him, trying to comprehend how her life had come to this, and she started to feel her control slipping away. Ralof caught sight of her sliding down the wall, tears rolling down her face, and went to her side.
"Isobel," he said sharply, pulling her to her feet again. "Isobel! Stay with me, lass. We're almost free."
She stared at him. "Free? There's a bloody dragon out there, Ralof! A dragon."
"I know, lass." He gave her a little shake and stared into her eyes. "But if you stick with me, you'll get out of here alive. Can you trust me?"
"Y-yeah, I think so." She squared her shoulders, trying to look braver than she felt. "But we have no weapons or armor, and there are these." She held up her hands, showing him the bindings and pointing to his.
Ralof looked down at the body by their feet. "Gunjar. Take his gear. He's rather small for a Nord, you should be able to adjust some of his armor so it doesn't fit too badly. We'll find weapons around here somewhere, something to get rid of these, and then we are going to get out of here."
As Ralof checked the locks on the doors, one of them opened and the Imperial captain and two of his men confronted them. Seeing Isobel, the captain sneered.
"I knew it, you traitorous little..."
Isobel cut his insult short, throwing a dagger into his throat. Ulfric and Ralof killed the other two guards in short order and searched the bodies for anything that might aid their escape. Keys, potions, more weapons and armor.
"Don't call me a bitch." Isobel muttered as she pulled the dagger out of the captain's throat.
Ralof laughed, unlocking their manacles. "I'll remember that. Let's go."
It was a test of Isobel's will to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and time slipped by. Guards, more guards, looting for supplies, killing frostbite spiders, cave bears. The fighting never seemed to stop, and then they were finally out in the fresh air again, just the three of them, the rest of the Stormcloaks either dead or fleeing in other directions. She wanted to shout out with joy when the sound of rushing air stopped her cold. Ralof and Ulfric pulled Isobel down to her knees behind a bush and Ralof pointed to the darkening sky. The dragon was flying off into the distance and she finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"I can't believe it. A dragon. And we're alive. I need a drink."
Ulfric laughed out loud. "Your drink is what got you into this mess in the first place, lass."
Ralof dropped a hand on her shoulder. "Isobel, we can part ways now, or you can come to Riverwood with me. My sister and her husband live there, you could rest a few days, stock up, and then you can decide where to go next."
She had nothing, knew no one, and had no place else to go. She nodded slowly. "Okay. Yes, I...by the Divines, this is insane." She ran a hand through her hair.
Ralof and Ulfric stepped aside to have a private conversation and then gripped arms, clapping each other on the back. They returned to Isobel and Ulfric gripped her shoulder.
"You're a brave woman, lass. If you want to join us, you'll be able to find us." And with that, he slipped into the trees and was gone.
The journey to Riverwood was a hard walk and progress was slow. Ralof and Isobel had to deal with Imperial soldiers, wolves, bears, and many more creatures. When they finally reached his sister's house in the dead of night, Isobel nearly wept with relief.
"Gerdur, this is Isobel," Ralof explained as his sister served them some bread and cheese. "We're in a bind and need a place to stay."
"I thought as much, Ralof. It might be best if you stay hidden a few days, down in the cellar. You know the room. We have supplies there as well, help yourself."
After they had eaten and cleaned up, Gerdur gathered blankets and pillows and a spare bedroll and led them to the cellar. Hugging Ralof and patting Isobel on the shoulder, she left the room and closed the door.
Isobel leaned against the wall and stared at the lone bed in the room. She wished she could stop thinking. Visions of the dragon, the execution, the view she had while her head was on the block, it all swirled around in her brain, making her stomach churn.
"Isobel, why don't you take the bed?" When she didn't respond, he stepped closer to look her in the eye. "Isobel?"
"I...I...don't want to be alone." Her dark green eyes pleaded with him.
Ralof slipped his arms around her and pulled her into an embrace. "You'll be all right, lass. It's been a rough day, even for an old man like me, but you've done well and you're safe now."
She let out a short laugh and rested her head against his chest. "I'm sorry I called you an old man."
They separated long enough to undress and then found each other again, bodies melding together. They made love slowly and drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.
In the morning, they made love again. Later, as they dressed, Ralof announced that he would be leaving to meet Ulfric and the Stormcloaks. Isobel tried to hide her disappointment. She hadn't expected that they would stay together, but the thought of travelling alone had lost a great deal of appeal since her arrival in Skyrim.
Sensing her discomfort, he sat down. "Isobel, you can stay here for a while, see what work you can find, and earn enough coin to move on. Gerdur thinks you should head to Whiterun. Jarl Balgruuf will likely have work for you and you can settle there. You don't have to, but the further away you get from Helgen, the safer you'll be from any Imperials who survived the attack. Besides, if you make a good impression and earn the title, you could become thane." He paused a moment and pulled her into his lap.
"You weren't thinking that we..."
"No," she replied gently, catching his drift. "I wasn't. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy your company, but I wasn't looking for anything permanent, and now..." Shrugging, she put a hand to his cheek. "Thank you, Ralof, for looking out for me."
"Well," he sighed as they stood and finished dressing. "I did feel a bit responsible for getting you arrested. If I had kicked you out of my bed that night, you might have left the inn."
Isobel laughed. "I doubt it. I doubt it very much."
Finally dressed and ready to look for work, she helped Ralof pack a bag with clothing, potions and enough food to get him to the next town. After a hearty meal with Gerdur and Hod, she walked with Ralof to the edge of Riverwood.
Ralof looked down at Isobel and smiled. "Take care of yourself, Isobel, and watch who you drink with."
She punched him in the arm. "You, too, Ralof." Standing on her toes, she kissed his cheek. "I hope we meet again."
"Until then, lass."
She watched Ralof walk away until he disappeared over the horizon, and then turned her eyes to the skies. It was clear and sunny and the birds were singing. The events of the previous day seemed far way and if she tried, she could almost pretend nothing had happened. Isobel wasn't prone to fantasy, however, and could not deny the reality of her situation. Returning home, in the immediate future at least, was not an option.
"Whiterun," she whispered to herself. "Whiterun it is."
A/N: This is a little something that crept into my head and refused to leave, and so I am putting it out there (without a beta read, so hopefully there are no errors!). Thanks to The Elder Scrolls V for the universe. I envision that this will be a series of one shots from Isobel's life. I am, however, working on two others stories at this time (Dragon Age Origins/Awakening), so updates may be spotty. Shameless self-promotion - look those up if you have the time.
I do hope you'll review, because reviews are like candy without all the calories, and that is a very good thing.