Chapter One - Fire

Skyrim was the last place in all of Tamriel that Élusia wanted to find herself. Particularly in the back of an Imperial wagon with fetters on her wrists and stripped of her worldly possessions.

She had been travelling from High Rock to the Imperial Province in order to attend the Arcane University. Or that was what she told herself. Right now Élusia wished she had never set foot in this Divines-forsaken frozen wasteland of a province.

The road from Jehanna had been a difficult one to travel, and at this time of year it was covered with a thick layer of ice that the wagon driver had outright refused to travel down, sending the Breton woman trailing through the Nord homeland, by boat to Solitude and then by road to Falkreath.

"You picked the wrong time to visit Skyrim, my friend," a man in the cart told her. He was fettered too, a Nord with more scars than she had fingers and hair that was matted with blood.

"I'll say," Élusia muttered acidly, looking around the cart. She had been warned by her family not to travel into Skyrim during the Civil War. 'It's too dangerous,' they had told her, and she had assured them that there were no issues at all. I'm not a Nord, she reminded them, their quarrel does not concern me.

Though apparently it did.

The Breton woman had walked herself into a battle, of course. And now she was on her way to be executed, she just knew it. The Stormcloak soldiers had picked the exact day that she was passing through town to mount an assault upon it, even picked the exact hour, the exact road she was travelling down.

"I didn't do anything! I don't deserve to die!" one of the men whined. "I'm not a Stormcloak!"

"You and me both," snapped the Breton. All she had done was cast a ward spell and suddenly one would have thought that she was the most wanted woman in all of Skyrim. Or that was what the Imperial Legion had made it feel like. Nords don't trust mages. She had found that out the hard way. "Try and die with some honour."

At the far end of the wagon, a man in official looking clothing chuckled. Élusia supposed he would have said something if not for the gag across his mouth. The man beside her didn't look like a Stormcloak, though she guessed he had to be if he was caught up in all this – though he could have just been in the wrong place and the wrong time like her. He looked like a Redguard, but his skin was too pale to be sure and he kept his head down and his mouth shut for the entire journey.

The solitary woman looked around. I suppose I should take in the scenery before I die, her mind interjected unhelpfully and she almost swore at herself before the soldier driving the cart snapped at the prisoners to keep quiet.

It looked as though they were in a convoy of wagons, or at least there were more than one, with mounted Imperial soldiers riding alongside to keep the prisoners in check, their armour chinking as the horses moved slowly. The air was cold but clean, fresher than she was used to, and her lungs ached from the sudden change in temperature.

"W-Where are they taking us?" stammered the whiner, struggling against his bonds to the extent that an Imperial soldier gave him a crack around the head with the pommel of his sword and left the man with blood trickling from the wound, groggy but conscious.

The scarred man answered, unafraid in the face of this brutality. He almost looked as though he was smiling, though Élusia was distracted staring at the life's blood oozing from the other man's head. I could fix that... All it would take is one spell... "To Helgen, by the looks of this road, lad... And then to Sovngarde."

A spreading dark stain on the other man's trousers showed that he had pissed himself with fear. The Breton rolled her eyes at that. She had always thought that Nords had more honour, or even wanted to go to their Sovngarde where they could eat and drink their afterlives away with no issue. Personally Élusia favoured the idea of Aetherius, but since she was not a Nord there was really no problem with that in her mind.

"I'm not a Stormcloak!" the man said, his eyes wide with fear as he pleaded with the nearest Imperial. "You can't do this! All I did was steal one horse! Take me to prison!" A gob of saliva hit him square in the face and one of the soldiers laughed as it slid unceremoniously down his cheek and into his lap to mix with the stream of tears in his eyes.

"Where are you from, lad?" asked the scarred man gently. Élusia couldn't help but notice that the possible Redguard sitting beside her shifted uncomfortably as he spoke the words. Thus far he had been completely still, completely silent, and so the reaction took her off guard and she frowned heavily. "Think of home when the time comes. Sovngarde is far better than this awful place, I'll tell you that!" he laughed heartily as the whimpering man muttered something about Rorikstead. "And you, lass," he grinned. "I'm sure a pretty thing like you doesn't deserve your head rolling across the floor. You may not be a Nord, but take some comfort in home."

"Don't waste your breath," she told him flatly. "You Stormcloaks are the reason I'm in this mess, and if you truly believe that I wish to speak with you about it, you are tragically mistaken." She turned away and looked at the mountains in the distance, grey giants coated with white snow, green trees, blue sky... She had never spent much time around nature as a child and yet suddenly she yearned for it as her life came to a close. Looking forward along the procession of wagons, Élusia could see the dark wooden gates of the town of Helgen looming, civilians in the streets pausing in their everyday lives to gape at the prisoners being hauled inside by the Imperials; she hoped that they got the show that they were after.

One of the soldiers from the town approached an Imperial man in a red tunic and golden armour as they entered the city. The man was old but looked important and it was obvious that he was not beyond wielding a sword himself when it came down to getting the job done. "General Tullius, sir," the soldier said, snapping to attention in front of him. "The headsman is ready, sir."

"Good," replied the man presumably called General Tullius. "Let's get this over with." His voice was flat and almost disinterested, and he turned back to the High Elven woman he had been speaking with as the soldier saluted smartly and turned on his heels to leave.

Élusia rolled her eyes as she heard the horse thief praying to every god he could remember the name of.

"Look at him, General Tullius, chatting to those damn Thalmor. I bet they had something to do with this," the scarred Nord opposite her growled under his breath, spitting over the side of the carriage as though the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The cart shuddered to an uneasy stop in a courtyard beneath a large tower, and the Breton was almost sure that the whining man had wet himself again as he panicked over why they were stopped. "Why do you think we're stopping, genius?" she snapped at him irritably. People like him made her wish she had died already.

"But... But we're not rebels!" he insisted again as the soldiers ordered them to descend from the cart. The man shook as he found his feet and almost collapsed in fear as he dropped the short distance to the dusty ground.

"Face your death with some courage, thief," said the Nord, his voice soft as his muttered straight into the man's ear. "The gods take all of our souls eventually."

"But this is a mistake! You can't let them kill me!" His voice was growing louder and drawing attention.

An Imperial captain stepped out. A woman in heavy armour and a helmet with a plume with a sword on her hip and, no doubt, a dagger somewhere on her person should the need arise, she cut quite a strange figure. Élusia supposed that the woman must have been among the best to rise through the ranks of the Legion; the Nords didn't seem to mind following female leadership, but the Imperials had a tendency to cause a fuss about it. Though these days such things were becoming less and less of an issue. "When your name is called, step forward," she told the prisoners succinctly, her hand straying to her sword hilt. "Try anything stupid and you will be killed. You will not be missed, you rebel scum."

"But I'm not a rebel!"

"Silence!" she shouted. "Say another word and I'll take put my sword through your throat to shut your filthy mouth." The way she spoke through gritted teeth showed she was serious, and there was a glint in her eyes that Élusia knew meant that she had ended more than one life before... And enjoyed it. It was hard to tell if she had joined the Legion because she believed in their cause or because she loved the idea of bloodshed. The captain gestured calmly to a Nord soldier beside her to begin calling names.

There were all sorts among the prisoners. Old, young, man, woman. They were all Nords save for Élusia and the man who might be a Redguard, and every one towered over her head like a group of giants as she stood between them. She suspected that aside from the whiner who was so obviously 'not a rebel', the rest were all Stormcloaks caught in the rebellion; at least they had enough pride and honour to maintain a sense of dignity as they went to their inevitable death. When their names were spoken they moved towards the block with an air of dignity, knowing their heads would roll but far from afraid of the outcome.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," the man called loudly in the midst of it all, creating a din. The gagged man moved with such a grace that Élusia was surprised she had not realised who he was. People who were not Stormcloaks hurled abuse at the man while the men and women who served him bowed their heads in reverence. The Breton did not know his crime, but she knew that he had started the war that was going to cost her her head, and the thought of that alone was enough to make her blood boil with anger towards him.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." The frightened man stiffened, frantically shouting about how he wasn't a rebel and how they couldn't kill him like this, how he didn't deserve it. He shoved Élusia to the ground and ran, his feet only in wraps as they galloped over the pavement. You're not going to kill me were the sentiments he would die with, she supposed. From her position on the ground, the Breton could not see a vast amount of what occurred, but she heard the man calling names shout "Archers ready!", and the twang of a bowstring followed by a gurgle of pain and the respectful silence that only comes when a man is brought to a sudden death with a group of witnesses.

"You, on the ground. What is your name?"

A man standing in front of Élusia moved aside when they realised that it was her who was being called. Scrambling to her feet was a far from graceful affair as her hands were bound and nobody dared make a move to help her up. "My name is Élusia Gaerwood," she told them, making a feeble attempt to wipe some of the dust from her legs and the filthy outfit they had forced her into when they took her possessions.

The Nord soldier scanned his list. "I don't see you on here. Where did you come from?"

"The town of Jehanna in High Rock."

He muttered something to the female captain, who scoffed something and then said: "Move over with the others, scum." She spat on the ground in their direction to make their point. "Even if you are unlucky enough to be in Skyrim at this time, at least we won't have to worry about you joining up with these Stormcloak bastards."

Not that I would even consider it, Élusia thought in reply to her.

"And you, Redguard!"

Having kept an eerie silence until now, Élusia half expected the man to say nothing, but instead he raised his gaze to look the Imperial captain dead in the eye. "My name is Jonna," he said with deliberate slowness. His voice was thick as tar and laced with enough hatred to fall an army. "The people of Hammerfell call me Imperial's Bane, and were I not bound, you would not be living." He moved across the courtyard without a further word and took his place beside Élusia, his dark eyes turned to the ground once more. Even if he were not a Stormcloak, the Breton was fairly sure that he was arrested for the same crime as them.

When the name-calling was over, the Imperial captain and the man who had been calling names advanced to beside the block. "You," the woman shouted, pointing at the nearest Stormcloak without ceremony. To his credit, at least the Nord soldier who had chosen to side with the Imperials looked upset, unlike the other people around here who seemed to be enjoying the show. Women from Helgen were leaning over balconies while men leant with their backs against walls, content to watch these people die. There were children too, though only a select few that had not been moved inside by their parents to spare them from this moment.

"You will never keep down the true sons and daughters of Skyrim!" the condemned man called, garnering a response from every Stormcloak soldier in the area who called their allegiance to the bound and gagged Ulfric. The Imperial woman kicked him sharply in the back of his legs so that his knees buckled and he fell to the ground over the wooden block. A headsman stood nearby, honing his axe to a deadly edge with a whetstone; he wore a hood and was dressed in black mail and dark fur, presumably so the blood would not stain him.

The woman put her foot square into the back of the Stormcloak soldier and forced his head down onto the block, where he kept it with dignity as the headsman advanced. "I go now to feast in the halls of Sovngarde!" he called, and his comrades shouted their agreement once more. The axe was raised and fell some quickly that Élusia could have sworn it jumped from its high position to its low position, whistling through the otherwise still air. She almost felt ill as she watched the Nord's head fall into the basket waiting to catch it in a shower of blood; his trunk continued to ooze red as the captain kicked it aside and called the next victim, though the spreading pool of crimson was rather too distracting for the Breton to realise who had been ordered to die next.

Her heart skipped a beat when she looked up and saw the woman's finger pointed firmly in her direction, until she heard the words "The Redguard!" and allowed herself to breathe again. It made sense that someone with such open opposition to Imperial rule would be killed so early on, while Ulfric Stormcloak would be saved until last, likely so that General Tullius could say a few demoralising words, or even land the fatal blow himself.

Jonna stepped forward with an air of stoicism. "Kill me, bitch," he growled and spat directly into the captain's face. She swore and drew her sword in a flash, but the Nord soldier grabbed her swordarm to stop her from running him through as Jonna sank to his knees willingly with a look of smug satisfaction on his usually so emotionless face. Looking around, Élusia saw that the Stormcloaks had also adopted satisfied expressions at the sight of this outburst.

"We will see that your remains are sent back to Hammerfell," the soldier who had called the names muttered as he gave the woman leave to sheathe her blade.

A deep rumbling shook the whole town so suddenly that the Breton wondered for a moment what it was until the Imperial captain ordered them to carry on. Black shadows coalesced and Élusia watched in horror as they swooped right over her head as Jonna put his head on the block. She searched the skies frantically but saw nothing, and then looked around to see almost all the onlookers and prisoners doing the same, save for the captain and her headsman. Even General Tullius, who had stayed a good distance back with the High Elf companion of his, seemed at least slightly alarmed as the shadows passed over a second time. The mage could have sworn she saw a glimpse of a tail as black as night in the corner of her field of vision – though when she looked it had gone.

"Carry on!" the captain barked. The executioner raised his axe obediently as the top portion of the tower behind him seemed to explode into bricks and dust, knocking him sideways as the ground quaked.

Élusia too fell to the ground and when she looked at what had once been the upper section of the uniform grey structure, she found herself face to face with the spiked visage of evil, black scales and razor sharp teeth glinted at her in the light and she was frozen in terror as around her men and women began to run in horror.

Yol, she heard and a column of flame exploded from the creature's mouth. A dragon. The Breton had a ward spell covering herself before she could even comprehend the words to cast one, and it was all that saved her from the fire as it ripped to her left and to her right, devouring the people who had not moved in time with savage hunger.

"Get up!" the scarred Nord was shouting at her and the Redguard on the block, who seemed to have escaped surprisingly unscathed. The headsman who had been standing beside her was still burning, a charred hunk of flesh that seemed to have melted away, oozing something. Élusia scrambled to her feet and stumbled towards a tower, finding her way inside only a few moments before another burst of heat washed behind her, destroying the door and making the stones hot to the touch.

Inside wounded men and women lay cowering in pain, bloodstains around them. Some had been burnt so severely that they were unrecognisable as living creatures. The dragons screams overhead made the whole building shake and threaten to collapse on top of them. Behind her, the Redguard man who had been on the block sprinted inside.

"We need to move," said a new voice. Ulfric Stormcloak was no longer gagged but remained bound, his regal clothing in tatters. "Ralof, get to the roof. See if we can't down this thing with arrows." The scarred man nodded. "You, girl," the leader of the rebellion continued. "I saw that magic you used to survive the dragon flame. Whether you like my cause or not, accompany Ralof to the roof if you wish to live. And you, Redguard, follow them too. If you would be as lethal to the Imperials as you claim, you are a man I wish to have on my side."

Élusia ran mindlessly up the stairs with the two men as the wall beside her shattered and the face of the dragon appeared, snapping at her. She almost fell from the spiralling staircase until Jonna grabbed her and forced her back into the wall. "The roof is no longer an option," he growled at her over the din of people screaming and dying, flames burning and the dragon calling upon its evil magic. He looked through the hole in the wall. "Jump, girl," he said barely a second before he threw her through the gap.

She shrieked with terror and her mind raced in a million different directions in the brief milliseconds she was in the air. He is trying to kill me. Stupid Redguard knows I hate the Stormcloaks and wants to kill me before I join the Imperial Legion. Why did I ever come to Skyrim? If not death by beheading then death by dragon-. Her feet hit the roof of a nearby building, which shattered under her weight. It had been weakened, obviously by the dragon landing on it as it made the hole in the tower. She fell through, sprawling on her hands and knees on the top floor of the building which was in ruins but not burning.

Pain spiked through Élusia's knees as she forced herself to her feet. She span around in time to see the Redguard and the scarred Nord man called Ralof land behind her, the floor of the building creaking and threatening to give out. "Keep moving, girl," Jonna told her. And she ran through the agony until she noticed that the stairs of the building had collapsed, forcing her to jump through a hole in the floor that exploded into a shower of splintered under the strain of holding up her weight. Her entire lower body screamed as she hit the ground below, cuts covering her entire body from where the savage pieces of wood had torn at her skin.

The dragon's shadow appeared over her head again, and she was afraid that it would land on the building she was in and crush her to death, though it continued to swoop past and set fire to the few homes she could see. Jonna picked her up and carried her through the door out into the streets of Helgen where she saw a wounded man being carried by his son until the Nord Imperial soldier from earlier grab the boy and drag him away moments before the dragon landed and doused his father in flames. The boy screeched, tears streaming from his eyes as he watched his parent's body all but melt away under the intensity of the heat. "Take care of him," the soldier said to a nearby Nord, pressing the boy's hands into those of the man he had enlisted.

"We need to get these bindings off," Ralof shouted to them, crouching in a slightly sheltered corner between a stone wall and a wooden building that seemed to be largely in one piece. Jonna crouched with him, dropping Élusia to the ground in front of them. "Our best way out is through Helgen Keep," the Nord suggested. "It leads out of a cave on the road to Riverwood. My sister lives there and we can get help from Whiterun to fortify the town."

"How does one fortify against a dragon?!" Élusia demanded, half paralysed with fear.

Ralof shot her a grin. "You clearly don't know how unlikely it is for a Nord to go down without a fight. The horse thief back there is an exception, not a rule. We Nords will fight for our homes until our lives are forfeit. I know Riverwood, and I know that the people there would stand firm until their dying breaths." The ground beneath their feet rumbled again as the huge dragon landed and spewed flames towards the keep that Ralof had indicated. "Do you know any spells that would get these off, lass?" He frowned when she shook her head and explained that focussing any sort of magic that much would probably be more deadly than fighting a dragon with your bare hands. "Hadvar!" he snapped sharply, causing the Nord Imperial soldier to spin around to face them.

The man approached quickly. "I'm surprised you're still alive, prisoners," he grumbled, on his toes and looking around.

"Hadvar, cut these bindings," Ralof appealed. "You were in Riverwood with me when we were kids. Does that mean nothing to you?"

He scowled. "Why did you have to take up with the damn Stormcloaks, Ralof?!" he demanded, obviously considering it and fighting with himself. "Damnit, man! I didn't want to watch you die on the block, but you're a damn traitor!"

"Fighting for my homeland is not treason."

"Ulfric murdered High King Torygg!"

"In fair and honourable combat... Hadvar, please..." The two men stared at each other for a moment. "There is no way we're getting out of here like this. What man deserves to be burnt alive by dragon's breath?"

Without warning, Hadvar put his fist into the wall in frustration, the weakened wood and stone crumbling to leave behind a hole. "Ralof, I can't!"

The scarred Nord stood and bowed his head. "Well be sure to tell my sister I died fighting then, even with my hands bound." He growled something unintelligible before reaching down and pulling Élusia to her feet, Jonna standing without encouragement. "You were like a brother to me once..."

"Damn you, Ralof," Hadvar grimaced. There was a dagger in his hand that Élusia had not seen him draw. He dropped it on the ground before unsheathing his sword. "Make sure you escape now or this will all have been for nothing." He took off at a run, dashing across the open courtyard before dropping into a crouch next to the opposite building and slipping around the corner out of sight.

Ralof stooped and took up the small blade before slicing through the bindings on Élusia's wrists followed by those on Jonna's. He then handed the Redguard the dagger and allowed his own to be cut.

"Helgen Keep is a bad idea," the Breton told them. She pointed to where the flags that had been on the building were burning and the bricks appeared red hot.

The Stormcloak man grunted in frustration. "Well Hadvar had the right of it... Get across this road, lass. From there we'll find our way out."

Above, the dragon swooped over the small and defenceless town again, roaring in its horrible language while the people below suffered its wrath. The three prisoners dashed across at the first opportunity they saw, their feet pounding on the paved streets that were still hot to the touch, past unidentifiable corpses. They slipped between the wall and the buildings just as the dragon's huge head appeared where they had been moments earlier, too large to turn and send a stream of fire onto them it hauled its massive bulk up over the wall and scorched the courtyard behind it, the screeches of men boiling in their armour unable to ignore. When the beast took off into the sky again, its tail flicked through the building they had taken shelter behind and sent a deluge of debris slumping onto their heads. Élusia felt a lump of wood strike her on the head and pin her to the ground before she had a chance to react, sending the world around her into darkness.

When Élusia came to, she saw Jonna standing over her and felt her head thumping. "The dragon is gone," he told her. There was blood gushing from a badly bandaged cut on his arm and the shirt he had been given by the Imperials was torn along with the flesh beneath it. "We must escape from this place before it returns to claim any more victims."

Climbing to her feet, the Breton felt her knees give out from beneath her and she tasted the ground once again. Looking at her legs, she saw that they were crimson and one looked oddly misshapen as though she had broken it, causing her eyes to widen in shock. "I can't..." she told the Redguard. She knew a spell to fix it, but her head was such a jumble that she could not remember the incantation. "Ralof?"

"Helgen Keep," he said gravely. The man picked her up as easily as carrying a child, barely even wincing as the movement brought a fresh gush of blood from his arm. "The dragon landed there, but I suspect some people have survived..."

"Why didn't you leave with him?"

"Why did the dragon not kill me when my head lay upon the block? Some things cannot be explained, girl." When he stepped out into the street, Élusia saw nothing but burning buildings and smoke; in the air she tasted ashes and burnt flesh, enough to make her choke and want to vomit. Jonna crossed the road to where the dragon had caused the entire top floor of a house to fall in on itself and catch fire. The wood was nothing but charcoal now, but in some places still looked red as fire clung to life inside of it, the struts that had held up the ceiling how at a peculiar angle on the floor, surrounded by the remains of old furniture. The Redguard put Élusia on the ground outside and slipped in, sidling around some of the timbers.

"Don't just leave me here!" she shouted after him, her legs stabbing into her senses with daggers of pain. "What if the dragon comes back?!" He had left her in the open and she knew that she would be the first thing that the dragon would attack if it saw her; a ward might have saved her last time, but if it picked her up in its mighty jaws then there was no way that she could survive.

Jonna's face reappeared around the empty door frame. "Don't be an idiot, girl," he muttered, leaving again.

"You bastard!" she yelled at him, struggling to her feet with a good deal of pain.

This time when he returned there was an incredulous expression in his features. "Girl, if you shout like that half of Skyrim will hear you, let alone one dragon."

"Well don't leave me!"

He gave her a withering look and leant against the only wooden wall of the house that seemed to have survived most of the damage. "Who said I was leaving you, girl?" Rolling his eyes, Jonna vanished behind it again. "And sit down before you fall down," his voice instructed her from the other side of the wall.

Stubbornly Élusia attempted to remain on her feet until he legs gave out beneath her again and she hit the ground hard.

"I would hate to have to tell you that I told you so." Jonna's voice was almost bemused, which was about as emotional as she had heard him sound in the short time she'd known him. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. "But I think you've learnt your lesson without the additional punishment." The sound of timbers being moved reached her ears, followed by grunts of exertion from the man inside and a noise that sounded somewhat like a foot colliding with weakened wood. "What did you tell them your name was, girl?"

The woman growled. "Élusia Gaerwood. And yours?"

"My name is Jonna, after the General who brought reinforcements to Titus II after the Sack of the Imperial City. While the Emperor bravely ran away..." he scoffed and returned to Élusia's line of sight.

"Sounds like a woman's name..."

"And I'm not surprised yours wasn't on the prisoner register... I doubt the guards could spell it."

"For your information, Élusia means 'chosen' in the language of High Rock."

The Redguard chuckled. "And what were you chosen to do, girl? Die in a dragon attack in a country that isn't your home? Tell me, girl, how were you planning on getting out of Helgen on your own? Maybe you should have chosen to burn alive. If you had chosen to jump out of that tower of your own accord, do you think we'd be alive now?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "Come along, girl. I have cleared a path." Jonna stepped towards her and took her into his arms. "I need you to hold on so that I can balance. The path is hardly smooth."

Élusia did as she was told begrudgingly. Stupid Redguard thinks he can mock my name... He slipped around the fortifications with her and she saw what he had been doing: he had moved some of the smaller pieces of wood to one side and kicked a hole through the weakest part of the wall of the house, big enough for a person to slip through. With a little bit of clambering and very nearly knocking the Breton out against a singed beam, the pair managed to free themselves from the debris and find the road that led south.

"That Nord said to go to Riverwood..." the female pointed out, still clinging to him as though he would drop her despite the fact that he was holding her himself now. "It should be in this direction... I think."

Jonna rolled his eyes. "The dragon flew off in this direction," he pointed out.

"Yes, but a town means that we can get help," she said, blinking at him. "And at the very least, something for my legs..." She looked down at them and winced, noting the blood staining the trousers she was wearing; whenever she stood on them she felt sharp pain stabbing into her senses, which led her to believe that at least one was broken. The Breton was still too stubborn to admit that to the man who had rescued her, though, even if he was the person who caused it by throwing her from the tower in the first place.

"Can't you Bretons do magic on that sort of thing?"

Élusia sighed. "Originally I thought that I had just forgotten a spell that I could use to fix them. Now I'm fairly sure I never knew one. I was travelling to the Imperial Province to learn magic; that which I know already is hardly sufficient. With some alchemy equipment and some ingredients I suppose I could make a potion to ease the pain a little – though even my alchemical skills leave a lot to be desired – but with these current conditions I'm afraid it's quite impossible." She wished she could, though. Being carried around with bloodied legs by a man who seemed to be almost twice her size while dressed in rags was not exactly the most dignified position for a woman to find herself in, not to mention that certain cruder people might find some implication to the situation.

Murmuring under her breath, she removed one arm from his neck to run her fingers through her hair. It was full of blood and broken wood and Divines only knew what, but she was oddly comforted by the sensation of it. Her eyes screwed up and she hissed in pain as she touched the area that had been hit by the building that had exploded on top of her. She suspected she would have a bruise there and innumerable headaches for quite some time.

Jagged stone cliffs erupted from the ground on one side of the road, while on the other a blanket of snow lay on the ground. In High Rock it would have been almost unusual to see anything more than a layer of ice at this time of year, but in Skyrim it snowed all year round and none but a select few if the hardier plants could grow in this harsh environment. Looking behind them, Élusia saw that Helgen was nothing but a column of smoke now, no longer burning but still smouldering. "Why didn't we leave through the gate?" she asked Jonna when she noticed that it was intact.

"After I pulled you from the rubble I tried it. Locked. No doubt bandits will find that town the perfect home now. At least those Imperial bastards won't be using it to their ends anymore," he spat with venom in his words.

"The Imperials didn't cause a civil war."

Jonna stopped walking abruptly and glared at the woman in his arms. "No, they just sold out Hammerfell to the Thalmor, they just slaughtered thousands of men who were only seeking to safeguard their homes from those greedy High Elf bastards. Maybe they didn't cause the civil war, maybe not... Maybe Ulfric Stormcloak caused it by being a true man who could see what was happening to Skyrim, because he would not denounce one of his gods on the say so of... of some mer! The Thalmor caused the damn civil war! They cannot tell people what they can and cannot worship! They know nothing of the ways of men! And the Imperials... The Imperial bastards allowed it!"

"What do you have against the Empire?"

He put her down roughly into the snow, which melted around her and soaked her to the skin, the cold doing a tiny amount to alleviate the burning of her skin. "You should not pry in things you know nothing about, girl. If you would freely support the Empire then I will have nothing more to do with you." Turning, the Redguard man walked away, his long legs covering the ground swiftly.

"Jonna!" Élusia shouted after him. "You can't leave me here, you bastard!"

This time, however, he did not return to fetch her.

Author Note: So yes, I was opposed to Skyrim fics for quite some time - mainly because I wrote for Oblivion and did not have the game yet. Since then, however, I have purchased the game and here I am, writing a story for it. Theoretically this shall be placed in the same slightly-AU setting that has come at the end of Brothers in Arms, namely and most notably Red Mountain erupting six years earlier than canon and Chancellor Ocato being assassinated a decade early, and not by the Thalmor. Everything else, however, should be the same.

I have not written in some time, so if you spot any mistakes of inconsistencies, please feel free to point them out... And I shall not be completing One By One unless I have a few people specifically asking me to do so.