Finding Destiny While Avoiding Fate

So this is a project in the works; I've waited so long to post it because I don't normally take on multi-chapter stories but I was inspired for this one. With bouts of writer's block making it all the more challenging; I am determined to slay this beast and get it done.

So quick notes: I have taken creative liberties in this story. One being that High King Torygg and Elisif are quite a bit older than what is cannon. Another is what I decided to call 'Naming'. Instead of Nord's having last names; they having naming ceremonies once they come of age (i.e. Elisif the Fair, Argis the Bulwark etc.) Imperials on the other hand do have last names. I think that is about it, but feel free to leave a comment if there is something else that I missed.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the names Hjolinn Saber-eye and Erilana.

So without further ado!

Prologue

Him: Helgen 4E 201 17th of Last Seed/ Jorrvaskr 4E 202 31st of Evening Star

"Who are you?" Asked the soldier, obviously confused as his check list had ended before the last prisoner was herded off of the cart.

Said prisoner was still gazing at the now dead Lokir, a sickening feeling creeping over him as realization set in that this would be his last day on Nirn... Talos guide him, for he was not yet ready to step into Sovngarde.

There was a clearing of throat that brought his attention back to the Imperial soldier who was awaiting his response, "Who are you?" He asked again.

"Hjolinn Saber-Eye from Falkreath. I'm a hunter."

The soldier checked through his list again, but there was no sign of the Nord's name. He looked at the bound man; he did not look like a Stormcloak. He wore rags that the soldiers from the ambush had placed him in much like the now dead horse thief, if he had been a rebel, they would not have dressed him in prison rags. The General was making a show of executing Ulfric and his men after all. The Nord was tall, his skin tanned, evidence to the fact he was not from the north. His dark hair hung around his ears, unkept and wild. Under his left eye were three jagged scars, close enough that he had to have been gods blessed to still keep it. His irises were the color of conifer trees, there was a feral shine to them that reminded the list holder of a wild animal. There was little doubt that this man was from the woods, if not born of the woods as well.

Unsure of how to proceed he looked to his commanding officer for guidance, "Captain, what should we do, he is not on the list?"

Hjolinn turned his attention to the severe looking woman in imperial armor, she had a look in her eyes that could only be described as blood thirsty, he already knew that there would be no mercy from her before she could even open her mouth... Damn imperial!

"It doesn't matter, he goes to the block." She said with a sneer, he was right; not one once of sympathy.

While there was an apologetic look in the list holding soldier, he followed the order, "You picked a bad time to be lost Kinsmen, but we will make sure your remains are returned to Falkreath."

Hjolinn mustered all of his honor and shrugged, what else could he do? He thought back to home and the graveyard that was already bigger than the town itself and how he would now be making it a body larger. He hoped that damn elk got eaten by a bear for all the trouble it's placed him in.

"Follow the Captain, Saber-Eye. Nice and easy."

The Nord obeyed the order and followed the woman to join his brother's in chains. Ralof; the blonde haired man that had been in his cart, nodded silently as Hjolinn stopped beside him. At least he would die along side brave men, and a Jarl no less! It almost seemed ironic that he would have chosen to live a life as a hunter hidden in the woods to avoid this war, only to end up dying alongside the Stormcloaks.

Hjolinn had tuned out the happenings around him, instead focusing inward to pray his final to Kyne and Talos. He missed the strange sounds from the sky and the beheading of the first Stormcloak as his mind's eye imagined what Sovngarde would look like.

"I said next prisoner!" Came an irritated growl.

The hunter looked up to see eyes upon him, impatience in the glare of the Captain and a solemn sympathy from the now deemed useless list keeper. It was his turn it seemed, he numbly trudged his way to the block. The body from the previous victim still lay on its side twitching next to the concave stone, warm blood still dripped and pooled onto the ground, there was a desire to empty his stomach but he held it back. If he was to die today, then he would do so with his dignity intact. Time almost seemed to slow as his knees hit the ground, smells of blood and dirt would be the last thing the hunter was sure to smell. Funny enough, those were the smells Hjolinn expected when he died, but it would have been the blood of his final kill and the dirt of the forest as he breathed his last. He dared not open his mouth for fear of dishonoring himself and his ancestors with a choked sob. His forest green eyes closed as the ax swung up over the headsman's shoulder, and he waited for the death that never came. There was a startled cry from somewhere behind him and his eye shot back open to see a shadow swoop down behind the north facing tower.

"What in Oblivion is that?!"

"Sentries! What do you see?" Called out the Captain.

Suddenly that ground around them shook as an ominous black figure landed atop the tower, massive wings spread out from its body as a thunderous roar exploded from razor fanged jaws. Hjolinn could not register what he was seeing, it was impossible! There was no way this beast could be here! A creature straight from children's nightmares, a legend that was never meant to crawl out of the depths of Oblivion! Yet there it was, starring into his very soul! A Dragon!...

That had been the beginning of his story, and the bane of his very existence. A terror that still haunts his every waking moment and more so his dreams. It seemed like almost a lifetime ago now; in a way he supposed it was. Back then Hjolinn was merely a hunter, no destiny, no responsibilities, just a simple life in the woods of Falkreath. Now he was the Dragonborn, a burden so heavy, more often then not, it was like being back on the chopping block awaiting the Headsman's ax. Yet here he was, juggling the life of a living legend, Thanehood and being a Companion all at once. In truth, he preferred the title of Companion more than anything. It was what he focused all of his energy on at the moment, avoiding his so-called destiny as long as he could. Fitting that he would dwell on such things now, on the Eve of the New Life Festival. Hjolinn snorted, 'new life' indeed.

"Hjolinn!"

his green eyes shot up from the tankard of mead he had been staring into, searching around for who had called him. Vilkas; wiser twin of Jorrvaskr... Or so everyone says.

"Yeah?"

"Got a job for you." The older Companion replied, handing him a formal looking missive.

Hjolinn got to his feet and took the letter from Vilkas reading it over, "Runaway? Since when do we deal with runaways?"

"Since the pay is so good," Vilkas said with a smirk, "Also when the said runaway is the daughter of a late High King."

His eyes shot up in surprise, "... Seriously?"

Vilkas nodded, "Are you going to take it? If not I'm sure one of the other whelps will be more than happ-"

"I'll take it. No need to goad me Vilkas." Hjolinn grumbled, stuffing the letter into his armor.

His fellow Companion chuckled and slapped him on the back; as he walked away, Vilkas called out over his should, "That's what I like to hear! Now get going, I'd hate to think what could happen if you are to late."

Her: Blue Palace 4E 201 30th of Evening Star

"No." A young woman ground out.

"My dear, it is only an appraisal, you do not have to decide tonight." Replied her mother.

"I will not be paraded around like some prize pony to appease your Empire!"

"Erilana! Take care how you speak!" Elisif reprimanded her daughter, she was a child of nobility and yet she spoke like a riotous commoner.

"I will not mother! I will not cower before an Empire that causes conflict in our lands, and I will not frolic in front of their bachelors like a simpering maiden either!" Erilana shot back scathingly, sneering at the flustered queen.

"That is enough! It is not the empire's fault that the land is divided, you sully your father's very memory stating otherwise!"

The young women scoffed brushing her red hair from her face, "It is the Empire's fault, and it is their fault that father now lies in Solitude's catacombs! That you are telling the people otherwise is an insult to father's memory!"

Elisif stared at her in shock, "How could you say such a thing? We do not speak lies, as you should very well know! You were there to stand witness same as I when that murderous traitor killed your father!"

Erilana glared at her mother, her ice blue eyes reflecting the fire that now scorched through her blood, fueled by her mother's denial of the truth. Of course she had been there, it was only natural for the whole court to be present when a challenge was issued for the right of succession. A challenge, one of which her father had accepted... And lost; pain shot through her heart briefly, but she brushed it aside. He had died honorably but Elisif made it sound as though Ulfric had murdered the High King in cold blood, a falsehood that she and others of the court had spread all throughout Skyrim, from Haafingar to the Rift. It was a lie that the Empire said would keep order to things, so that Elisif could keep her station and Ulfric would be unable to take the throne by right of conquest.

"You and I have very different recall then mother. For the way I saw; it was an honorable battle where the stronger won. Do not dishonor father by claiming he was murdered. That lie has already torn our country in two! You should not have listened to the Empire, they have no say in what laws we are to abide to or not."

"I will hear not one more word on this matter." Elisif said sternly; her nerves frayed with stress, "You will get ready for the festival and present yourself before the delegation respectfully. Should you cause an upset in anyway, I will sign the first marriage contract that comes across my desk and you will be shipped straight to Cyrodiil."

Erilana startled, a look of horror spread across her face, "You would not dare!"

"Indeed I would young lady! There are many suitors wishing to meet with you tonight; it will be a perfect opportunity for you to find an agreeable nobleman to court. However, should you continue this nonsense I will choose one for you and that will be the end of it."

"You would marry me off, just like that? Before my naming ceremony no less?" Erilana asked quietly, her eyes dulled a bit in betrayal.

Elisif made a dismissive gesture, "You will not need one, Imperials do not have namings, they have surnames, you will take on your husband's."

The younger scowled again, "You already threaten to take my life away, and now I will have my heritage ripped from me as well?"

"There is no point. This match is to keep the peace between Skyrim and the Empire, to give you a name now would show we are not willing to honor their customs."

"So it is alright for them to ignore our customs and take away our gods, but you cannot be bothered to give me this one thing before I am passed off?"

"What is your decision dear? I grow tired of your tantrum." Elisif asked, folding her arms, impatience at its pinnacle.

Her daughter was silent for a moment, desperate for a way out. She would not be sold to the highest bidder, nor would she choose a husband among Imperials, the very though sickened her. The queen had come into her room more than pleased to inform her that she and the delegation had decided to use the night of the Old Life festival to create a unity through marriage. Erilana's refusal had sparked this argument, but now Elisif had backed her into a wall. Either she chose a suitor tonight dressed up like a songbird, or her mother would chose one and she would be exiled from her home like a common criminal. There was no way out of it... Unless... A thought struck her; there was no way out of it as a lady of nobility; but what if she wasn't? A new hope exploded in her chest, she began the scheme.

Elisif took her silence as acceptance, "I'm glad you could finally be amiable. Now, I must go prepare myself; I will see you in the main hall just after dusk." She paused before she walked out of the room, "And do something about your hair, having it hang down around your face is not befitting your station, nor is that ridiculous braid."

With that the queen took her leave. Erilana barely heard her go, she was far to caught up in the idea of freedom. There would be no wedding, no Imperial man would ever be good enough. She would be damned if anyone thought her so weak willed as to allow the delegation to decide her life for her. Her destiny was not with the Empire, and now it seemed that her life within the walls of Solitude had come to an end as well. With the decision made, Erilana stuck her head outside the door to her room and summoned her maidservant.

"Do you require something my lady?" The maid asked as she approached the door.

"Yes, inform my mother that the dress she had picked out for me is not a correct fit and that I am going down to Radiant Remnants for a different one."

"Would you rather I send the steward to fetch-"

"No!" Erilana exclaimed, then she cleared her throat and with a softer tone continued, "No, I will go myself, Falk would never be able to pick out something I like. Just inform the queen please."

The maid nodded hesitantly in acknowledgment, then bowed and walked away. Erilana quickly raced around her room, gathering jewelry that would fetch a good price, she threw in some extra smalls for her escape leaving her fine clothes alone, she would not need them for where she was headed. The last thing that she grabbed was an amulet of Talos that her father had given her in secret on her last birthday, it was the one gift that she had cherished more than anything in the whole world. She held it close to her chest and offered up a prayer to the Hero-god as well as her father. With this crazy plan Erilana would need all the blessing she could get. Just as she was about to leave her room she hesitated.

What she was about to do would change everything forever, if ever caught, her mother was surely to follow through with her threat, or she would be labeled a traitor by the Empire and be executed for treason. But this life was not for her; and with that thought Erilana fled, leaving behind royalty, luxury, comfort and Solitude.

When she was born she had been named 'Erilana'; it was an Imperial name, given to her as a way to show favor to the Mede Empire. She was giving up her life, to be a True Nord, and an Imperial name would be ill-fitted. From now on she would be known as Eri, and one day soon, she would have a naming ceremony among her brethren. Eri would prove herself to be worthy of a strong name, nothing pretentious like that of her mother's. 'Elisif the Fair'; the only thing about her mother that was fair was the cleanliness of her skin. No, she would have a warriors name and it would be known on the front lines of the war, because she was on her way to join the Stormcloaks.