I lack the necessary funds to control either RWBY or TES:Skyrim
Prologue: In Our Tongue, He is Jaune!
Jaune was running for his life, he didn't know where he was running, but anywhere else was better than here!
Jaune could respect the rustic vibe from the town he was in, with its stone buildings and thatched roofs. What he didn't like was the fact that these people had just tried to kill him and taken Crocea Mors!
Plus there was a dragon.
An honest-to-Monty dragon!
Said dragon was now currently burning the town to the ground and the village people ran abou in the chaos. There was a roar, and Jaune instinctly ducked his head in reflex to lower his own profile.
There was another roar and the earth shook and Jaune lost his footing, landing face first into the ground.
Jaune wasn't sure what he should do; Beacon never taught him how to fight dragons!
But he'll be damned before he stood about and did nothing!
But first, he needed to get Crocea Mors back!
Jaune felt it coming before he even saw it; a weird prickling at his neck hairs that just told him so.
It's happened more than once before, and they've never been wrong.
Jaune turned around and saw why his little neck-hairs were so accurate; coming at him was a powerful blast of fire; shaped and enhanced by Dust to even take on the characteristics of a snarling dragon as the attack came at him.
Jaune hunkered down, and braced himself behind his shield as he began to pump Aura through himself to help lessen the blow.
Even then, Jaune wasn't prepared.
His shield and body held for maybe a second before the attack began to push him back as a wave of heat washed over Jaune.
His feet digging into the dirt as he was slowly pushed back until ultimately, his legs buckled under the pressure.
The slight change in stance completely destroyed his defense as when his leg buckled, the pressure behind the fire finally pushed him over, sending him flying as his body smoked.
The last thing Jaune remembered hearing, wasn't the sounds of battle, weren't the cries of the Grimm, especially not the gleeful laugh of Cinder, but the cries of alarm from the person he loved more than anything else in the world.
"JAUNE!"
'Py... rrha' Jaune thought disjointedly as he fell over the side of the cliff.
The battle of was over, the victors decided, the outcome had been inevitable.
The Imperials had easily succeeded.
Working on information painstakingly gathered over the past several months, they had set the bait and waited for the trap to be sprung.
And when he was finally lured from his fortress at Windhelm, they had overwhelmed him at Darkwater Crossing, surrounding him and his entourage, and killing all whom raised weapons at them.
Jarl Ulfric had surrendered without any more of a fight and him and his surviving men were rounded up and placed onto carts to be transported to Cyrodiil for trial.
"Sir!" An imperial soldier cried as his horse cantered forward. Behind him was another horse tied to his, and tied to the second horse was a man with his hands bound in rope.
"General, I caught this man attempting to run away" the soldier explained as he gestured to the captured man behind him.
"Place him in any cart with room" General Tullius said dismissive as he turned his horse as he made his way to the head of the column.
"Sir!" the soldier said as he saluted before cutting the man free of the horse and throwing him onto a passing cart.
It was as the column was traveling down the road did they come across a peculiar sight; it was the body of a young man upon the side of the road, his clothes bearing burn marks, and clutching in his hands a long sword and a shield of shining white.
General Tullius stopped the column, his eyes scanning either side of the road, though the trees were too thin to hide an ambush, the burnt clothing meant magicka.
General Tullius hated magicka and hated mages even more.
"Did the scouts report any bandits in the area?" he asked the man slightly to his right and behind him.
"No sir" Legate Rikke answered as her hand wandered down to the pommel of her sword, eyes roving back and forth across the area.
"Check the body"
"Yes sir" Rikke answered as she gestured to one of the foot soldiers to the assigned task.
Said soldier saluted before pulling his sword free of its sheath and cautiously making his way forward, hunkering slightly behind his shield as he did so.
after a moment, the soldier finally arrived at the body.
Taking a look around before getting down on one knee to roll the body over.
The soldier suddenly recoiled away from the body, almost falling over as he rapidly stood up.
Tullius had his sword halfway out of his sheath before the soldier up front cried out.
"He's alive!" The soldier cried. "The boy is alive!"
"What do we do now, sir?" Rikke asked, turning to Tullius.
"Bring him along with us to Helgen" Tullius answered as he lead his horse forward once more.
"Helgen, sir?" Rikke asked, confused. "Are we not suppose to be heading to Cyrodiil for justice?"
"Justice will be done" Tullius assured. "And peace will finally be restored"
"Yes sir!" Rikke saluted as she brought her horse in line with the moving column once more. "Get to it, Hadvar!"
"Sir!" the soldier said as he half-threw half-carried onto a passing cart, a slight pang of sympathy welled in his heart.
Coincidentally enough, the cart in which the soldier half-threw, half-carried the young man was the one Ulfric Stormcloak resided in, alongside one of his loyal soldiers and also the runner caught earlier.
What a coincidental series of events.
When the unconscious young man was hauled onto the cart, his hands were tied in front of him and he was left resting against the cart bench.
When the cart began to move, the jostling of the vehicle upon the dirt road caused the unconscious man to shift in his seat, ending up with him resting his head upon Ulfric's shoulder.
Ulfric ignored the unconscious individual as best as he could while he contemplated his life up to this point.
The road he had taken that lead him here.
The choices he had made.
... Though, it was increasing getting harder to find inner peace with the young man now snoring upon his shoulder, his breath blowing uncomfortably upon Ulfric's neck.
Suddenly, the cart hit a large bump in the road, sending everyone on the cart jolting upwards.
The sudden bump also had the effect of waking up the youngest person on the cart when his body slipped from leaning against Ulfric's shoulder to landing face first upon the wood planks.
There were several muffled grunts as the young blonde man tried to sit up, and when he found his arms bound behind him, he floundered for several seconds, knocking into the knees of Ulfric, and the horse thief.
But the cart was too narrow for the young man to even be able to turn over, so he was stuck at the bottom of the cart with his face pressed against the wood.
Jaune had no idea where he was, all he knew was that he was tied up, Crocea Mors was missing from his hip, and that he was currently being transported somewhere, judging from the horse neighing and bumping about.
He was also with a couple other people, at least from what he could tell with the number of boots poking him in the sides.
Jaune tried one more valiant attempt to right himself in his cramp position, but to no avail, he was stuck staring at some grey planks of wood.
It still didn't answer why he was currently tied up... Grimm don't take prisoners.
He was about to speak, raising his head off the wooden floor when someone else beat him to it;
"So, you're finally awake" the owner of the voice noted.
Jaune couldn't see the person talking, but from his voice alone, the other person was male, was not the owner of either pair of boots digging into his ribs, and had an accent that Jaune could not place for the life of himself.
"Where... Where am I?" Jaune asked, raising his head high enough to get a small glimpse of the trees on either side of the road.
"You were found near the border of Skyrim, just outside of the Imperial ambush that captured us" the voice answered.
Jaune frowned, the man's reply having raised more questions than answers.
"Where in Vale is that?" Jaune asked.
"You come from the Forgotten Vale!?"
the other person sounded utterly shocked as he completely misheard what Jaune had said.
"For-what?!" Jaune asked incredulously.
Then another voice broke into the conversation, adding even more confusion on top of Jaune: "Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was fat and lazy, I could have been halfway to Hammerfell by now!"
Jaune vaguely recognized some of the words used, but he had no idea whom the Stormcloaks were, or the Empire, or of any place named Hammerfell... in fact, Jaune was beginning to seriously doubt that he was anywhere remotely in Vale.
Maybe when he fell off the cliff, a river had washed him away from the kingdom of Vale.
That must be it!
Jaune became slightly more confident in his theory. He was probably somewhere outside the four kingdoms and had accidentally entered some territory governed by inhabitants that had created their own society outside the influences of the four kingdoms!
Wow, everyone was going to be really surprised when he came back with news of a possibly new group of people, maybe even another kingdom from the sounds of this 'Empire'.
... Though that still hadn't answered why Jaune was currently being carted away with what sounded like rebels and a horse-thief.
"You there!" the person Jaune recognized as the horse-thief said, nudging him painfully in the ribs with his boot. "We don't belong here, it's these Stormcloaks that the Empire want!"
Jaune still wasn't very clear on where 'here' was technically, but was saved from answering when the first voice spoke up again.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief!" he said sharply before sighing.
"Shut up back there!" Jaune heard someone further back say.
'That might be our guard!' Jaune thought before speaking up, trying to get his attention, even though he couldn't see him.
"Uh, hey, excuse me!" Jaune piped up. "Can I, uh, talk to someone? I think there's been a very, very big mistake..."
Jaune tried several more times, but whomever was supposedly watching over them was pointedly ignoring him.
"It is no use" the first voice said solemnly.
"Hey, what's wrong with that guy?" the horse-thief asked suddenly.
Jaune, in his position, had no idea whom he was referring to, so remained facing the wooden planks, on the other hand, Jaune could see each individual mark, blemish, and line upon the wood in front of his face!
"Watch your tongue!" the first voice snapped, heat rising. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"
"Ulfric?" the thief thought aloud. "The leader of the rebellion! If they've captured you... then that means... Oh gods! Where are they taking us!?"
Jaune's eye widened as he listened to what was going on around him; apparently the Empire had captured the rebel leader, so they must be taking everyone here to face trial.
Jaune nodded his head at his own train of thought. He could definitely clear up the misunderstanding in front of a judge.
Jaune tuned back in when the first person began speaking again. "Wherever we are going... Sovngarde awaits"
Sovngarde didn't sound that bad of a place to stand trial, sounded almost religious from the way the first voice had said it. Jaune noted to himself as his rising fear calmed slightly.
"No... no!..."
The horse-thief was now beginning to freak out, though Jaune had no idea why... it's not like they were all going to be executed without trial...
"Calm yourself. Where are you from?"
"Wh-Why do you care?" the thief replied, voice beginning to shake.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home" the first voice answered.
"W-Wait!" Jaune interrupted. "So we are going to be executed!? What about a fair trial!?"
Jaune was getting more and more hysterical as he kept asking about random things the other occupants of the cart have never heard of; especially something like a 'phone call' or a 'lawyer'.
While Jaune began to struggle anew and continued babbling to himself, the other people in the cart still able to talk continued on their conversation;
"Ro-Rorikstead..." the thief whispered.
"I didn't even do anything wrong!" Jaune was heard crying out as he was finally able to turn himself slightly, now facing his left, and giving him a good view of a man with a gag.
Suddenly, there was shouting up ahead of the column;
"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"
Now it was the thief's turn to begin mumbling to himself as he said a bunch of words that meant completely nothing to Jaune, other than that they might have been names.
as the cart passed through the gate, Jaune had a good look at the outer walls of wherever he was, and he was quite impressed with the structural strength of the stone walls that surrounded the area; they looked quite strong, there were even walkways and guard positions upon them as well.
Wherever Jaune was, it looked at least somewhat experience against Grimm attacks.
when the cart entered the town, Jaune had a good view of thatched stone buildings and cobble streets.
Though he had somewhat calmed down from his earlier freak out, he still desperately needed to talk to whoever was in charge, everything was a misunderstanding.
Jaune's ears piqued up at hearing about a General Tullius whom was military governor, though he had no idea what a Thalmor was, since elves were only in fairytales... right?
As the cart continued on its way, Jaune listened to the first speaker begin to reminisce about the now name town; Helgen.
I got this idea from a crossover picture of Jaune wearing an Iron Helmet and shooting Cardin in the knee with a bow and arrow.