Prologue

It had been a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When Alessia had stopped at Darkwater Crossing for the night and asked the group of soldiers there if they would mind sharing their fire with her, she'd never imagined that it would end as it had.

"I said, next prisoner!"

The order snapped Alessia out of her stunned silence and finally allowed her to take her eyes off the headless body that lay next to the chopping block. For one insane moment she wondered why on earth she couldn't go to her death as calmly and bravely as the man before her.

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy," A Nordic voice prodded at Alessia, prompting her to step forward on trembling legs that were threatening to collapse beneath her.

Onward she stumbled slowly until the headsman seized her with hard and callused hands, roughly forcing her onto her knees and bent her head to the block. The barely kept in check panic that she'd been feeling threatened to bubble over when she discovered that the blood left behind from the previous victim of the Empire's justice was still warm. She locked her eyes on her executioner; the thought of looking into the dead eyes of the head in the basket was unbearable.

Somewhere in her frazzled mind, a voice was whispering that she should be praying to the Eight (or was it the Nine, like her aunt had told her?) for forgiveness, but the words of prayers learned in childhood were long forgotten and refused to spring to her lips.

As the executioner hoisted his heavy axe, Alessia squeezed her eyes shut, forcing tears from her eyes that ran down her cheeks and splashed down to mingle with the blood on the block. Her muscles tensed as she braced herself for the fall of the axe.

But it never came.

What did happen, however, wasn't much of an improvement on her current situation.

All around her she heard the suddenly panicked shouts and shrieks of onlookers and prisoners which made her open her eyes in time to see a massive black dragon perched on one of Helgen's keeps. It's glittering ebony eyes seemed to peer into her own, studying her, before releasing a roar that seemed to bring the very heavens down upon them. Blazing boulders crashed from the sky, shattering upon hitting the ground and setting the thatched roofs of the houses on fire.

Alessia, not wasting a moment further, tried to quickly jump to her feet but with her hands tied she lost her balance and landed face first in the dirt. Before she had a chance to try again, she felt herself being grabbed and set on her feet. "Move it if you want to live, Imperial!" a gruff voice shouted to her over the tumult around them.

Now sprinting and vaulting over any obstacles in her way, Alessia ducked into the door of the keep she was being directed to and took one last look over her shoulder at the scene of devastation. She was rewarded with the sight of the executioner losing his own head in the snapping jaws of the dragon before the man beside her slammed the door shut, blocking her view.

Catching her breath, she looked around and saw that aside from herself and the man who had picked her up off the ground, the one named Ulfric and two others that had been at Darkwater Crossing had managed to make it into the keep. For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence as they all struggled to get past disbelief.

"That's impossible... Dragons are a legend!" one Stormcloak finally managed spit out.

Ulfric cast a cool look in the direction of the soldier and simply said, "Legends don't burn down villages." Turning his attention back to the others, the Jarl then snapped, "Ralof, we need to move now!"

None of them needed telling twice and Ralof instantly suggested that they all head up the stairs, although in truth the only place this could take them would be the top of the tower, out in the open and very vulnerable to attack from flying formerly mythical beasts. However, because it was their only real plan, no one questioned it and they made a run for it.

As her feet slapped against the cold stone steps, Alessia became acutely aware that the tower was starting to quake. Upon reaching the halfway point, the outer wall suddenly burst in, sending rubble flying and part of the upper floor crashing down to block the rest of the way. The gaping hole was then filled with the dragon's snapping maw, eager to tear into whatever it could. A rage-filled roar shook the tower causing a more debris to shower down on them. A gout of fire burst from the dragon's mouth, making the tower feel like an oven. Letting out a shriek, Alessia managed to turn away in time to avoid the worst of the blaze, but she was certain she could smell singed hair as she stumbled down the steps and bumped into Ralof.

Stunned by the attack, the others further down the steps stood motionless until the other Stormcloak announced, "Jarl Ulfric! Follow me!" before ushering the Jarl of Eastmarch towards the door to make their escape that way. Just before disappearing through the door, Ulfric cast one look back at Ralof and Alessia, their eyes meeting briefly as he gave a nod of farewell.

"We need to go now, Imperial!" Ralof shouted, snapping Alessia back to the here and now.

"Alessia!" she shouted back. "My name is Alessia!"

"Your name won't matter one whit if you end up a pile of char!" Ralof growled as he shoved her in the direction of the hole left by the dragon attack. "Now jump through to that house there if you want to live!"