Hello this is my first fanfic, so please don't judge to harshly, i'm writing this story based on a character iv made in game (yes using cheats, lots of 'em). And you may notice the Dialog is different from the game. I am aware and I chose it to be so. And I will make up a few events unseen in the game so again, please do not criticize too badly. I'm 15 so a lot of what I write might not be exactly what older audiences wish to read, but if you don't like it, don't read it.
Updated: Hi everybody! 3 years ago I began this story, and very very slowly updated it and worked on it. I can not promise speed or efficiency today, But I do intend to continue it and before I do that I am going to update the existing chapters to suit my updated writing style and skill. If you enjoyed it in the past, I hope you do today too with longer and more fleshed out chapters! And Like I said in the past, If you do not like it, do not ready it. But please do read and review- feedback is greatly appreciated!
The sound of horses beating their hooves against dirt and stones was so familiar, any other time it could have meshed into the background with the rest of cities banter and crackling of braziers. The smell of horse would been just another scent amongst the baking breads, meats curing, and the sewage. Everything intensified by the humidity trapped inside the cold stone walls in the day. All the sounds and smells never acknowledged until longed for.
Conan inhaled sharply through nose and mouth; welcoming the smell of home. Instead he greeted a cold bite that streaked his throat and even stayed frozen a second in his lungs before at last cooling to his body. He exhaled and coughed, his eyes opening the process, only to be snapped back shut by the naked glare of the sun.
"Finally awake are you?" Said a voice Conan didn't recognize, but he knew he recognized the accent. Slowly he cracked his eyes open to look at the source. A man, clad in a set of strange armor Conan didn't recognize. Conan rose his hands to clear his eyes, he felt a rough pain dig into his numbed wrists he realized were bound together. He cleared his eyes to see a rough leather thong wrapped too-tightly around is wrists.
"A little young to be crossing the border" The same voice said "Alone, at that". Conan looked now at the source with clearer sight. The armored man had long hair and a scruffy beard that seemed to match his fair skin and rough feature, was staring at him, a strange look in his eye Conan was not sure if he recognized. Akin to what he had seen only once before when Varn Garrent announced he would have to put down his boys new pup because the thing kept slaughtering their poultry is that pity?
Conan sat silently slowly studying his immediate environment, feeling motion now, he was on the back of a wagon with three others, one other clad in armor similar to the one who spoke, and another dressed in rags- plus another steering- the driver Conan thought he could recognize the armor, though it seemed bulkier than he remembered: Imperial. A soldier! That should be good though.
Conan shuffled uncomfortably at a breeze that sent pinpricks along every inch of his skin- he only then acknowledged the thread-bare sack outfit he wore, much the same to what another in the wagon wore, loosely fit and held in place in multiple areas by tight leather bounds to accommodate his small frame.
"Not used to this kind of cold it seems." The same man commented. Conan looked at him again, studying him a little closer now, unsure of what to say to this complete stranger. He thought for a moment before settling on a single question.
"Wha-" Conan croaked, his tongue was sandpaper and cotton and throat little better. He brought what little moister he could to the mouth and tried again.
"What is this?" He asked. It was weak he knew, but given the situation- whatever it was he didn't know what else he could say.
"The Imperials ambushed us and brought us here, you were caught in the crossfire- same as that thief over there." The man motioned to one sitting next to him, in the rags. "We are prisoners now."
"You damned Stormcloaks! If not for you I could be halfway to Hammerfell by now!" The thief spat.
"Relax, we're all brothers and sisters in binds now, horse thief." He looked back to Conan "I am Ralof by the way."
Conan thought for a moment, unsure whether he should really share his name with these men. "Conan" He decided there was little harm in it. Ralof nodded.
"And you?" Ralof looked to his side.
"Lokir." The thief said through gritted teeth.
"Our fate is sealed, there is no reason for grudges."
Conan looked at both men for a moment, who are they? Stormcloaks He had heard that name before. Some kind of rebellion started in the north his father had told him.
"No reason for grudges?! Before you Stormcloaks showed up, the Empire was nice and lazy. Now they're so tight packed their hunting thieves and arresting children!" He whipped his head to Conan "How old are you anyway, kid?" The question cause Ralof to turn his attention back to Conan aswell.
"Eleven. I think." Conan said quietly, shrinking into himself.
"A true threat to national security this one!" Lokir stamped his foot on the wagon floor. Conan flinched.
"Shut up back there!" The soldier steering the wagon barked at them.
"And this guy? What's his problem? Lokir asked ignoring the guard. Conan followed his gaze. To the man sitting directly next to Conan. He was large, towering over Conan by twice his height, in similar armor to Ralof. But what drew Conans attention the most was the gag he was wearing. Did it matter what he said?
"Watch your tongue! You are speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" Ralof snapped.
"Ulfric Stormcloak? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion, if they've captured you… oh gods where are they taking us?" Everything but fear now taken from Lokir. The way he said it almost instructed Conan to look ahead of the wagon past the soldier steering. Another group of people dressed in armor similar to Ralofs were crowded in a wagon ahead. But Conan looked past that, where a great wooden gate was now being pulled open to allow the soldiers entry.
"Relax my friends, Sovengarde awaits. Best not to keep the gods waiting for us." Ralof said, Conan couldn't understand how he could be so calm in the face of death. Glancing at the one they had named Ulfric, he wore the same mask of calm. How? Conan could only ask himself. Lokir was shaking and panting trying to make his last rights to the gods.
"What village are you from?" Ralof asked Lokir.
"What do you care?" Lokir hardly managed to choke out.
"A man's last thoughts should be of his home."
"Rorikstead, I'm from Rorikstead." He answered in another choke.
"And you, friend?" Ralof asked Conan.
Closing his eyes to keep from crying, Conan fought to keep his voice steady "The Imperial City." He mumbled, it was all he could manage.
"A long ways from home; But fear not, your loved ones will find you in Sovengarde, no matter who gets there first." Ralof spoke confidently. The words brought no comfort to Conan, he didn't want to die.
They entered the small town where every citizen stopped to murmur to each other as the wagon past. Parents told children to go inside, and others came out to watch. "Look at that" Ralof barked, "General Tulius himself, even the Thalmor show themselves here".
Conan followed everyone's gaze and spotted a white-haired Imperial clad in heavy elegant armor, a mark of leadership. Speaking to someone in radiant gold armour. He couldn't see the faces, but knew they were the ones Ralof spoke so poorly of.
"Are they really going to kill all of us?" Conan said in a hushed shaky voice.
"Here in Skyrim, those who can take care of themselves are treated as any other adult would be. And finding you illegally crossing the border, helps you not at all." Ralof said sadly. "Damn the empire. It's funny, growing up Imperial walls used to make me feel so safe. But now…" He trailed off.
Lokir was still mumbling his prays when the wagon came to a stop. "Oh gods why are we stopping!?" He cried.
"Why do you think?" Ralof said calmly "end of the line."