A/N: Yep, getting out another new plot bunny as I careen toward the publication of my first novel. I'll post info on my profile once it's ready. Again, none of my stories are abandoned; life and my own wandering imagination just get in the way. If you love a particular story, it will be completed…eventually :\
Disclaimer: As is usual, I'll only post this once, since it's unlikely to change. Bethesda Softworks and its subsidiaries own the Elder Scrolls series and all in-game characters. The plot is, for the most part, also theirs. I'm only adding in my own character and adjusting the story at some points.
1: As the Scrolls have Foretold
The quartet huddled together in the snow, un-tanned bear pelts their only protection from the frigid conditions as they shared body heat without regard to what sexual connotation their positions might suggest.
"Tch! Xadam, watch your elbow! That fringe is pointy!"
"Piss off," Xadam replied from somewhere in the pile. "If you expect me to go into battle less than fully armored, you're dumber than you look."
"Then quit jamming it into my thigh!"
From the bottom of the pile, a feminine baritone interjected, "Lavis, Xadam, if you don't stop bickering I'm going to come up there and crack your heads together."
At the top of the pile their scout, and the group's only Wood Elf, added his two cents. "Trust me, you don't want to see Niniereh mad."
Lavis bit his lip, not wanting to aggravate the biggest and scariest of their group. Niniereh was taller than most male Altmer and her musculature rippled in her training leathers, though the iron plate she wore now covered much of that. She preferred entering battle with a heavy blade in one hand and a fistful of Destruction magic in the other. Despite how new she was, none of the others had any inclination to anger her.
"Let's just go over the plan one last time; make sure we've got everything in hand," Xadam said to break the silence.
"Alright," the Bosmer replied, "we are radicals from the Aldmeri Dominion, unsatisfied with the surrender. We're trying to cripple Skyrim and the Empire alike with one decisive strike."
"Quite the backstory for one attack," Lavis quipped. "What, is our commander a frustrated playwright?"
Lavis received a reply in the form of an iron-clad hand cracking him in the forehead. "Shut up and listen," Niniereh cautioned.
"Our objective," the Bosmer continued in an irritated tone of voice, "is to foil the Imperial capture of Ulfric Stormcloak. We need this war to continue, or the Empire could rebuild its power base and challenge the Dominion."
"So they sent us?" Xadam quirked a brow. "Wouldn't master Justiciars work better?"
"We need to be unknowns," the Bosmer replied. "In case we get caught, we can't be recognizable."
"We won't get caught," Niniereh said decisively.
Their scout rapped on Lavis' helm, signaling them to be silent. Their targets were approaching.
The moment the Imperials leapt on Ulfric, the quartet burst from their hiding place and charged into battle.
The fight was over in minutes.
Ulfric's use of the Voice threw the elves into Imperial arms. The Imperial soldiers simply mowed through the Aldmeri ambushers: Xadam and Lavis were dead before they hit the ground, filled with arrows. Their Wood Elf scout was run through with a sword. Niniereh's heavier armor saved her from a similar fate; better still, her lack of a uniform appearance with her fellows made it difficult to tell if she had been with them or simply an Altmer traveler. After all, combat is chaotic. Perhaps it was luck or fate that a horse thief blundered through the ambush site as the battle ended, lending credence to the idea that Niniereh was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Regardless, the soldiers bound the unconscious High Elf and stripped her of her armor. One of the female soldiers cut up a burlap sack and placed it on the elf like a tunic when the males on both sides couldn't stop gawking at the large woman's curves.
Niniereh awoke on the road, some Nord imbecile speaking to her. She mostly tuned him out, trying to get a bearing on where they were. She cursed under her breath when she realized they'd not only bound her wrists but also tied her hands closed so she couldn't channel magic. The Nord said the place was called Helgen, not that she cared. To Nin all the cities in Skyrim looked alike: worthless snow depositories.
Niniereh's eyes widened when she saw her commander, Lerutix, speaking with the Imperials' general. Surely he could save her from this. She was being treated as a civilian, just an unlucky woman drawn into a fight. He could exercise the Dominion's power and save her, give her another chance. Nin shrugged her soft burgundy hair from her eyes as the cart bumped repeatedly before stopping. This was it, she could go home.
Lerutix never called for her release. The jailer – a Nord! – was more interested in her release than her fellow Altmer. The commander stood at the sidelines as she was called to the block. Niniereh lost it. She screamed, pulled against her bonds, thrashed at her captors and Stormcloaks alike. It took three large men to drag her, kicking and swearing in the Aldmeri tongue, to the chopping block. Forced down and finally realizing that she was helpless, Nin's screams turned to sobs. Her tears intermingled with the freezing blood of the slain, creating clean rivulets through the bloody neckrest.
The killing blood never came, though with what happened next Niniereh wished it had. A dragon, a beast from the oldest tales, attacked. The entire village, the entire Imperial garrison, was helpless against the monster's onslaught as it tore through fortifications with ease. Niniereh derived some small, brutal satisfaction from seeing Lerutix's bloody corpse as she ran for cover. The Altmer hated herself for having to cower with the xenophobic Nord soldiers, hiding within a small archers' tower as the earth shook around her. She spat onto the ground and charged up the tower's stairs, looking for some other way out. Nin found her way out easily enough, as the dragon burst through the wall and doused the entire upper floor of the tower in searing flames. Niniereh dove for cover, tumbling halfway down the stairs as the flames licked at her heels. As the monster departed to seek other prey, Niniereh charged out of the hole it had created and dove through the shattered roof of a nearby house. Tumbling expertly, she fell through a burning section of flooring to the dirt below just in time to watch the jailer from earlier rescue a child and an old man from the dragon's flames. The man cared for others; had he not been a Nord, she could have respected him, but such a brutish people deserved no respect from the Aldmeri Dominion. The Nord offered to protect her. Niniereh's mind took several seconds to process that: she was a prisoner, slated for execution, yet he was willing to risk his life to save hers. On top of that she hailed from the very nation against which his people had warred.
"What is your name?" she asked in a whisper as the dragon hung over the wall behind them, incinerating all in its view.
"I am Hadvar," he replied, patting her on the shoulder as both a greeting and a signal to move. She effortlessly kept up with his pace, her greater height and powerful build making up for her restraints and exhaustion. All around her Helgen burned, the Imperial soldiers scrambling to protect the civilians.
Nin followed Hadvar to the keep, encountering the Stormcloak from before – a man named Ralof – and both entreated her to follow them. Niniereh heard neither argument, however. She stared at the dragon, completely mesmerized at the carnage the monster wrought. It then landed before her, looking her straight in the eyes, and began to speak. Hadvar and Ralof had both run into the keep, sheer terror overcoming their senses. The beast stared at her, and in return she stared at it. They remained this way, sharing some manner of connection, for an unclear amount of time before the Imperials attacked the monster again. The spell broken, Niniereh picked a door and ran inside. She nearly crashed into Hadvar, who was bandaging several burn wounds from the dragon's sweeping attacks.
"I can't believe it," he muttered. "Was that really a dragon, bringer of the end times?"
Niniereh shook her head, looking through the various leather armors for something heavier. "Considering what it did to this village, I'd say yes." She turned to him, offering a brief smile. "My name is Niniereh, by the way."
Hadvar opened his mouth to reply but no words came. Nin shed her burlap garb, her curvaceous and lithely muscular frame shamelessly exposed for several long seconds as she strapped on a set of Imperial heavy armor. Her golden skin and amber eyes seemed to glow in the torchlight and her wine-colored hair only served to enhance her almost predatory appeal. Flames danced in each of her hands before she doused her magic, donning a pair of swords just in case. "I'm ready to go," she nodded as she fastened the last strap on the decorative helmet.
Hadvar returned the nod, finding his voice again. He had seen women in less clothing, to be certain, but none who were simultaneously so appealing and intimidating. What had truly struck him dumb, however, was the businesslike way in which she had stripped. The nonchalance hit him harder than her exposed body had. "I'm almost ready. I want to finish dressing these burns before we move, or I might end up a liability."
Niniereh gave a military salute and began sifting through the barrels for anything worth taking. "So where are you from? I might as well get to know my rescuer."
"Riverwood," Hadvar replied as he rubbed salve on his calf. "It's a village a little ways north of here. When I joined up with the Legion I was stationed in Falkreath, to the west. And you?" He shook his head at the absurd casual nature of the conversation, considering all that was going on.
"Summerset Isle," she replied. "After the war I decided to wander, learn about the world. I'd actually been planning to join up with the Dominion before all this. Not so sure now. Nearly dying and seeing a mythic beast tends to put things in perspective, you know?"
Hadvar nodded, bandaging his calf and strapping on his boot. "You should consider joining the Legion, at least temporarily. If the Stormcloaks have themselves a dragon, only General Tullius can stop it."
"What makes you so certain it's the Stormcloaks'?"
"I don't believe it to be coincidence that the dragon attacks only once Ulfric is captured and only goes after Legion soldiers. Plus, Ulfric has the Voice, the tongue of dragons. Maybe he can call one."
"You have a good point," Niniereh replied as they started down the hall.
Hadvar held up a hand in the universal military sign for silence. "Shh, Stormcloaks. Maybe we can reason with them…"
There was no reasoning to be had. The moment the pair passed into the next room, the Stormcloak soldiers gave battle cries. "Damn the Dominion and the Legion to the depths of Oblivion!"
Hadvar drew his blade but Niniereh had no patience for a fight. She grabbed the two enemy soldiers by their faces and unleashed a gout of flame from each hand, tackling the bodies to the ground and continuing to burn until she was positive they were dead. "Are these people mad? There's a dragon destroying everything and they're focused on petty grudges?"
Hadvar shook his head. "I don't know what to say. I can't understand how my fellow countrymen have drifted this far from the Empire." His next thought was interrupted by Nin looting the bodies. "Have you no shame? Leave the fallen be!"
The Altmer shot him a withering glare. "Look, you want to live, you do what it takes. You might have family outside these walls, should we escape, but I have nothing. Whatever gold and valuables I can scrounge up here, that's all I have, period. If you don't like it, look away."
Hadvar worried his bottom lip but looked away, ignoring the sounds as Niniereh rolled the bodies and even removed their fur armor.
"Alright, let's get out of here. I'd hate for you to have risked so much just for us to die now."
Hadvar nodded and followed closely as the keep rocked around them, the sounds of the dragon's assault grating on his conscience as he thought of all the lives he'd failed to save. He just had to hope that the life he'd managed to rescue could help make up for his failings.