Ember coughed and blinked her watering blue eyes, the sunny-yet-snowy landscape blurring into view. She slowly looked about her, in an attempt to figure out where she was. Three men were sitting in a wagon with her, each man's wrists tied and set in his lap. One was dressed formally, in royal robes and furs. A gag was tied around his mouth. The man across from him wore yellow-green ragged clothes. The one across from Ember began to speak, catching her attention.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake." His eyes were fixed on her's, his voice deep and a mite upset-sounding. Hoof beats from the wagon's horse echoed with every movement forward. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.
He nodded his head to the side to signify he meant the scruffy man in rags. Ember's heart raced as she struggled to recall the events of the early morning. What came to her, though, was an utter blank.
"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy…" The alleged thief glared at the man across from Ember.
She stayed silent. Ember had never quite been the talkative type, and it occasionally caused her trouble. Like when her childhood neighbor, Benjamin Fjord, told her that the cave-dwelling Falmer would find her in the night. She asked no questions, only suffered silently as night terrors danced in her mind for months after.
She smiled slightly at the memory and tuned back in to the conversation a little. As they entered a small, stone-walled village, the Stormcloak man who had spoken to her first glared to the side. "Look at him. General Tullius the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."
Ember was appalled at his words. When she was young and living with her mother, she had always taught her daughter never to question the Empire and that all they did was for the good of the people. Of course, Ember was no sheep and certainly tried not to be a pushover, but she had always been an Imperial at heart. Possibly because she was one of the only Nord girls living in the Imperial City in Cyrodiil.
Suddenly, the wagon halted. Ember was jerked forward quickly, whiplash irritating her neck muscles. She cursed silently and stood to follow the exiting men out of the carriage. A large Imperial man stood beside a woman in a Captain's armor, scribbling words on a checklist as he spoke each criminal's name aloud. She shifted uncomfortably, her scratchy rags biting into her tanned skin.
"Ulfric Stormcloak." The Imperial man spoke with a bitterness edging his voice as he scribbled the name. "Jarl of Windhelm."
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," The Stormcloak man behind her called as Ulfric set on towards the line of criminals waiting to be executed.
"Ralof of Riverwood." The writer continued. The man behind her stepped out of line, walking to an empty spot behind Ulfric without a fight. A horse whinnied. "Lokir of Rorikstead."
"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" The thief shouted before breaking into a run, sprinting past the Imperial Captain. "You're not gonna kill me!"
"Halt!" The Captain yelled after him. "Archers!" Two men in Imperial uniform beside the right facing tower drew their bows in unison. They both shot, but which one's arrow hit first was unknown. Lokir collapsed to the ground.
"Anyone else feel like running?" The female Imperial growled. Ember gulped, everything become more factual suddenly.
The writer glanced up with a glint in his eye. "Wait…you there. Step forward."
Ember slowly stepped toward him, leaving a good six feet in between them. He squinted at her. "Who are you."
"E-Ember. Ember Sullen-Shade. Nord, of the Imperial City…" She said quietly, intertwining her fingers nervously and shifting them over and over.
"Captain, what do we do? She's not on the list…" He leaned over to the woman, speaking quieter.
The Captain glared at her, her eyes stone-cold and her voice loud and commanding. "Forget the list; she goes to the block."
The writer gave her a sympathetic glance. "I'm sorry. Atleast you'll die here, in your homeland." His words shocked her so much that she didn't even correct him to say she came from Cyrodiil still.
Her heart dropped to her feet. This is it, She realized quicker than she wanted too, I'm going to die without ever saying goodbye to my friends or family.
Numbly, Ember walked the same fine line to the waiting soldiers in binds. She scarcely heard the rude comments yelled by the townspeople as an unknown Stormcloak man was executed. Blood spurted every which way as his head rolled into the waiting basket, matching Ember's scattered thoughts. His body was kicked carelessly to the side. The Nord girl waited in silent dread to see whose name would be called next.
Time slowed down as a familiar name was said, followed by a "To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy," behind her.
Suddenly, time came back and she realized the name was her own. Ember mustered up the bravest expression she could, walking to the executioner's ring slowly and solemnly. She was shoved down to her knees and hit the dirt hard, where she set her head upon the sticky, blood-spattered dip in the stone calmly. At least I shall be with my dear Luna.
The executioner raised his bloody axe. Just as it was about to come down, a large black figure swerved through the sky, its body landing heavily on the watchtower. The executioner stumbled, nearly dropping his axe and falling to his knees beside her. The world tinted yellow as the dragon let out a deafening sound.
"Come on, kinsman! The gods won't give us another chance!" Ralof, who was crouched a few feet to her right, called. Black, angry clouds clotted in the sky, blotting out the wavering sunlight.
Ember didn't need to be told twice. She stood up the best she could on the trembling ground. Her eyes darted toward an entrance to the watchtower behind Ralof, where the archers had before been posted. Before she knew what she was doing, her rag-wrapped feet were propelling her through the stony entrance.
Up the sets of hard staircases she went. A Stormcloak soldier stood in front of her, weapon drawn. Ember gasped, backtracking in fear he would attempt to stop her. But before either of them could speak, the stone wall beside the soldier burst. He disappeared beneath the rubble.
The black dragon that had landed on the tower shoved its head inside the newly-made hole. She pressed her back against the wall that remained, her breathing quick and her heart racing. Never had she seen a dragon before, none the less one three feet from her.
Her terror increased as flames leapt from the dragon's open maw. Ember could see every tooth in its mouth. The fire engulfed the stones, sputtering out almost immediately as it realized there was nothing flammable to cling to.
After what felt like hours, but was probably only seconds, the scaled creature's head dipped away. Ember peered out of the jagged hole for an escape. The only route was a house a few feet below, a section of the thatched roof burnt away. Taking a deep breath, she leapt.
Her feet met with the still glowing floorboards. She stumbled. If she fell now, with her hands bound, she would never get up until it was too late. Slowly, she stood again. She ran across the creaking floor, jumping onto the first level without a moment's hesitation. Ember ducked out of the house and brushed ashes out of her brown hair quickly.
She ignored the yelling of the man who had written the checklist, sprinting past the child in the road. Normally, she would stop to help boy, but gods damn it, there was a dragon out there, no doubt looking for blood to spill and flesh to burn. And after such a close encounter, she was determined. This wasn't her day to die.
Ember stumbled as the ground wavered unnaturally. She got to shelter and pressed her back to the house wall in the small alleyway between a burning, blackened house and the village's stone wall. With a glance back, she realized the dragon had landed on the ground, where the child had been. Oh, no…I hope he's safe.
While the dragon was distracted, she went on. Ran up the few wooden steps and out where the door used to be, but was now only cinders and stumps of darkened wood. A woman lay in a pool of her own blood on the cobblestone walkway outside, curled to the side and twitching. Ember almost stopped to help, but instead urged on.
Regret and guiltiness twanged in her stomach. She glanced back at the smoldering ruins of the home, only to see the woman was now still, the Imperial man with his hand over the woman's side. He glanced up and met her eyes.
In terror, Ember ran towards the large cobble building she could only guess was the village's Keep. She passed the first door, running straight to the second. She grabbed the handle and flung herself inside without a second to catch her breath or focus on the Imperial and Stormcloak men's voices behind her, arguing loudly.
((Want Ember to go on an adventure in your favorite quest? Just PM me and I'll write a chapter for it, dedicated to you! ;P -Alleycat))