Ok, so... my brother, sister and I started playing Skyrim this summer. I'm not normally a video-gamer (I prefer to watch, not play) but Skyrim is addictive man! I totally suck at fighting in it, but it's fun, and apparently I've been playing it and/or watching my sister and brother play it too much lately because I had a dream where Sam and Dean found themselves in Skyrim and I just had to write a fan fic about it. Now because my own game play sucks, I'm using Skyrim Lets Plays on Youtube as my models for the gameplay storyline aspects of this fic. Now the first couple of chapters of this will follow straight story from the game, but as things progress I'll add more original(ish) input and adventures in for our boys. Oh, and just so y'all know, for Sam and Dean this takes place during season 3 after Mystery Spot and before the finale. All you guys really need to know is that Sam has been trying to find a way to break Dean's deal but has had no luck and Dean's only got a little under a month left. Ok, enough from me. Enjoy the fic!
Chapter 1: Dean, I Don't Think We're in Kansas Anymore
POV – Sam
Sam wasn't sure what to think anymore. One minute he and Dean had been running through a forest in North Dakota after a black dog that Bobby had sent them after, and the next they had found themselves in a skirmish that was right out of Lord of the Rings. In the sudden confusion, Sam tried to keep track of Dean, but something struck him from behind and he fell to his knees. He heard his brother cry out to him, but everything was quickly fading to black.
When he awoke, it was to the jarring sensation of hitting a pothole. Instead of hearing the soothing rumble of the Impala, however, there was the creaking and bumpy movements of a cart or wagon. Confused, Sam opened his eyes and tried to blink his vision back into focus. He was startled to realize that he was indeed in a cart and that his hands were tightly bound. In front of him was a blond man who looked to be around Dean's age, but with long blond hair that reached his shoulders. He was dressed in grey and blue armor and his hands were bound as well. Looking to his left he saw the driver of the cart – a man in red and brown armor – and another cart ahead of them carrying more bound men in blue and grey. There were more men dressed in red and brown walking beside the carts. Clearly those in the carts were these men's prisoners.
Alarmed, Sam quickly looked to his right and felt a minor wave of relief to find Dean slumped beside him. There was a worrisome gash on his brother's left temple, but other than that and a few forming bruises he looked fine. Next to Dean at the end of the cart was another man in blue and grey armor, but his appeared to be more elaborate, suggesting a higher rank than the man sitting in front of Sam. The man was slightly older too, with long light-brown hair, but unlike the man in front of Sam, this one was gagged in addition to being bound.
Across from this older man was a younger one that looked to be around Sam's age. He was clean-shaven and had short dark hair. He wasn't wearing any armor like the other two; only a yellowed tunic and brown breeches and foot wrappings. Glancing down at himself and Dean, Sam realized that they were wearing similar garb as well. The hell?
Lifting his head a bit more, Sam took in their surroundings. They were still in a forest, but clearly they weren't in North Dakota anymore. Not with mountains like those. Hell, he and Dean hadn't even been near mountains before they found themselves here. He wasn't even sure he knew the names of the kinds of trees that now surrounded him. And it looked like they were on a well-used cobblestoned path to somewhere.
Before he could really panic, however, Dean groaned beside him and started moving.
"S'mmy?"
"I'm right here, Dean," Sam said softly, pressing his thigh up against his brother's since he couldn't do much else with his hands bound.
Their short exchange attracted the attention of the man in front of Sam.
"Hey, you two. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the boarder, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush same as us and that thief over there," the man said.
"Damn you Stormcloaks," growled the young man that had been called a thief. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."
Sam and Dean traded worried looks. Stormcloaks? Empire? Skyrim? Hammerfell? Just where the hell had they ended up?
"You there," the thief said, catching Sam and Dean's attention again. "You and me – we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
Sam couldn't help but agree. Wherever this was, it was far from home. He wondered if they had managed to wander into another mystery spot or something of the like. He was honestly hoping that this was all a bad dream after watching a marathon of the Lord of the Rings movies.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the man in front of Sam said.
"Shut up back there!" the driver of their cart barked.
"And what's wrong with him, huh?" the thief said in a softer voice, glaring at the man seated across from him.
"Watch your tongue," growled the Stormcloak. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."
Sam and Dean shared another look. High King? What was this? Narnia?
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you… Oh Gods, where are they taking us?!" the thief cried.
Sam felt a sinking sensation in his gut. Just great. He and Dean had somehow managed to land themselves in the middle of a rebellion. A rebellion that might be nearing its end if its leader had been captured. He had a really bad feeling about what awaited them at the end of this ride.
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits," the Stormcloak rebel said calmly. Resignedly.
"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening," the thief whimpered.
Sam felt Dean shift uneasily beside him. He couldn't help but scoot a little closer to his brother, providing comfort as well as seeking some for himself. Dean stilled and pressed closer until they were touching from thigh to shoulder. The cart hit a jarring divot in the cobbled path not a minute later, though, rocking them violently. Dean groaned, his face turning ashen. Sam worried that the blow to Dean's head had given him a concussion. He started to worry even more when Dean voluntarily slumped against him and rested his head on his shoulder. Dean was hardly the affectionate type and never sought out his own comfort in Sam's presence. Usually they were only in this position if Sam nagged him enough. Stupid macho older brother.
But then again, with time running out and the end of his deal coming up, Dean had started to allow himself and Sam small moments like this. Especially after the mystery spot and the trickster. At the mere thought of Dean's deal, Sam felt his eyes sting with tears. He still hadn't found a way to save his older brother. There was a little under a month left, but if this strange turn of events played out the way Sam was dreading it was, then it wouldn't matter. He wished that his hands weren't bound so that he could hold Dean. Then again, maybe it was a good thing. Dean wouldn't care for that kind of thing. He'd consider it an intimate chick-flick moment and those had always been a no-no unless it was Sam that was really hurting. Really, really hurting.
"Hey. What village are you from, horse thief?" the man in front of him asked, bringing Sam out of his despairing thoughts.
"Why do you care?" the thief grumbled.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," the rebel said gently.
"…Rorikstead. I'm… I'm from Rorikstead," the thief answered haltingly.
Sam had no idea what a Nord was – though clearly it was what could be considered these men's nationality – nor where Rorikstead was, but he admired the man in front of him for trying to reach out and calm the thief.
"General Tullius, sir!" someone called out. "The headsman is waiting."
It was then that Sam realized that the forest around them had thinned out and that they were now entering a village that looked like it came straight out of a medieval fantasy movie. Again, like something out of Lord of the Rings.
"Good. Lets get this over with," someone answered. Sam couldn't see who.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me," the thief prayed, his brief moment of calm gone.
"Look at him. General Tullius the Military Governor," growled the man in front of Sam. Sam looked around as much as he could with Dean resting against him, but still couldn't catch a glimpse of this General guy. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."
Elves? Dean glanced up at him, eyebrow raised. Sam shrugged gently so as not to jostle Dean and hurt him further.
"This is Helgen," the rebel sighed after a moment of silence. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."
Dean snorted softly, but the Stormcloak rebel apparently was too lost in his reminiscences to take notice.
"Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?"
Hearing a child's voice, Sam glanced around him to his left and saw a house were a young boy sat on the steps leading up to it. A man – clearly the boy's father – rushed forward and pulled the boy to his feet.
"You need to go inside, little cub," he said.
"Why? I want to watch the soldiers." The boy pouted.
"Inside the house. Now." The man said sharply, tugging the boy towards the house's door. Sam couldn't watch any more without becoming an owl, so he returned his gaze forward. He heard the boy say, "Yes, papa," just as the cart ahead of his come to a stop at the edge of a cleared courtyard filled with more red and brown armored soldiers and villagers that were beginning to crowd around at the outskirts.
"Whoa!" their driver called as he angled their cart to come in beside the other one.
"Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!" A woman's voice cut through the air.
"Why are we stopping?" the thief asked.
"Why do you think? End of the line," the man opposite Sam said ominously before addressing Sam and Dean. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us."
Sam felt Dean sit himself upright and slowly rose to his feet. Sam quickly followed, not wanting to stray far from Dean.
"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" the thief cried as he hopped off the cart after the gagged man.
"Face your death with some courage, thief," the Stormcloak rebel scoffed from behind Sam and Dean.
Dean jumped down behind the thief, swaying unsteadily on his feet for a moment. Sam hurried down and reached his bound hands out to help steady him. He really didn't like how pale his brother looked.
"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" the thief continued to cry out as they all approached a woman in elaborate brown and red armor with silver plating. Sam was surprised to see a woman soldier, one clearly high in rank in comparison to the man beside her who was holding a list of some kind.
"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time," the woman barked.
"Empire loves their damn lists," growled the Stormcloak now standing beside them.
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm," the man with the list called out.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," the blond muttered as they watched the gagged man follow a soldier to the courtyard on their left.
"Ralof of Riverwood."
Sam watched the man next to them follow his Jarl's example, wordlessly passing the woman soldier and headed towards the courtyard.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
"No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" the thief – Lokir – cried before making a run for it.
"Halt!" the woman yelled.
"You're not going to kill me!" Lokir cried desperately as he fled.
"Archers!" the woman called, and Sam noticed the armored bowman in the shadows of the building on their right aim and took the thief out with only one shot. Dean stiffened beside him and Sam pursed his lips. Obviously running was not an option.
"Anyone else feel like running?" the woman demanded, glaring at him and Dean, as well as the Stormcloak rebels from the other cart.
"Wait. You there. Step forward," The man with the list said to them.
Sam and Dean traded nervous glances before approaching together. The woman continued to glare at them, but didn't say anything.
"Who are you?" the man asked.
When Dean didn't answer Sam spoke up.
"I'm Sam, and this is my brother, Dean."
"They are Nords from the look of them," the woman scoffed. "No other men in all of Tamriel are that tall."
"You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman," the man smiled sadly before addressing the woman. "Captain. What should we do? They're not on the list."
"Forget the list. They go to the block," the woman sneered.
"By your orders, Captain," he said before facing Sam and Dean again. "I'm sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland. Follow the Captain, prisoners."
Sam wanted to protest. Something. Anything. He wanted to say that this wasn't their "homeland." That they didn't belong here. To run like the thief had. But the Captain was watching them and the archer behind her had another arrow already knocked and ready. Instead, he and Dean followed the woman as she led them to where the rebels were gathered before the armored soldiers. A decorated armored man was speaking to the gagged rebel leader.
"Ulfric Stormcloak," he was saying as they approached. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."
Sam again shared a confused look with Dean. A power like the Voice? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Whatever it was, that was probably why the man was gagged. Sam wondered if he was a magic user or something.
Ulfric only growled at the man in response, voice muffled by the gag.
"You started this war," the red and gold armored man continued, "plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."
A high-pitched sound echoed around the mountains surrounding the village and the stone walls around the courtyard. Sam and Dean and many others looked up and around to see if they could spot the source of the noise.
"What was that?" someone asked.
"It's nothing. Carry on," the high-ranking man said dismissively.
"Yes, General Tullius," the Captain saluted.
Ah. So he was the general that Ralof had been talking about.
"Give them their last rites," the Captain said as she turned to a person wearing golden robes.
Sam took note of the other people in front of him. Aside from the General and the Captain, there was the golden robed person, the man who'd had the list, and another man dressed in a white fur skirt and boots, dark breeches, tunic, and hood, and was wielding a large sinister looking axe. Sam felt his heart jump up into his throat. Oh God…
A woman's voice came from the golden-garbed figure – she must have been a priestess or something.
"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved…"
"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with," a Stormcloak rebel said, stepping forth and interrupting the woman.
"As you wish," the holy woman said, sounding mildly irritated.
"What a dick," Dean muttered under his breath. "Someone is in a hurry to die."
"Come on, I haven't got all morning," the Stormcloak said as the Captain forced him to his knees and shoved his head onto the stone block before the man with the axe. Sam gulped when he noticed the crate where…
"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" the Stormcloak rebel sneered just before the man raised the axe and brought it down, severing head from shoulders, the head dropping neatly into the awaiting crate.
"Holy shit!" Dean whispered faintly, stepping back into Sam.
"You Imperial bastards!" a voice cried out angrily as the Captain used her foot to nudge the beheaded man's body to the side and off the chopping block. Sam looked to his left and was surprised to realize that one of the Stormcloak rebels was a woman. For a medieval society, women appeared to have an equal standing alongside the men. Seriously. A woman rebel soldier and a woman Captain.
"Justice!" cried out the voice of the father from earlier.
"Death to the Stormcloaks!" another woman's voice called out.
"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof sighed from beside Sam.
"Next, the Nord in the rags!" the Captain called out, pointing a finger at Dean.
"No!" Sam cried out just as another roaring sound – deeper this time and louder than the last – echoed around the courtyard.
"There it is again. Did you hear that?" the list-carrying soldier asked.
"I said, next prisoner!" the Captain barked.
"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy," List Soldier said softly. He almost sounded remorseful.
"No!" Sam cried again as Dean took a shaky step forward. "Dean!"
Sam made a move to follow his brother, but soldiers seized him from behind.
"Sam! Don't," Dean said sharply as another soldier came up to him and grabbed him by the elbow.
Sam stared into his brother's eyes pleadingly.
"It's going to be alright, Sammy," Dean smiled sadly as he let the soldier lead him to the chopping block.
No, it's not. Dean was such a liar. How could anything be all right about this situation? They were going to die here – beheaded! – and Dean's soul was going to go to hell.
Dean shook off the soldier's hold and walked the remaining distance to the block under his own power. Sam saw him swallow deeply, Adam's apple bobbing, before easing himself to his knees and laid his head on the blood covered stone block, facing away from Sam.
Sam trembled in the soldiers' hold, tears spilling down his face as he watched the headsman hoist his weapon up. Another roar sounded and Sam saw Dean's body start in shock, reacting to something behind his executioner.
"What in Oblivion is that?" General Tullius exclaimed.
"Sentries! What do you see?" the Captain asked.
"It's in the clouds!" a Soldier answered and Sam looked up just in time to see a…
"Dragon!" the Stormcloak woman cried out as a large black winged beast dropped from the sky and landed atop the tower behind the execution site. The force of it's landing shook the ground and caused the headsman to fall to the side and away from Dean. The dragon let out a loud roar and there was a crack of thunder, the sky suddenly darkening, dark clouds swirling overhead and an electrical energy filling the air. The dragon attacked, a shockwave of electrical energy blasting away some of the soldiers.
"Don't just stand there! Kill that thing! Guards, get the townspeople to safety!" General Tullius called out to his men.
Sam took advantage of the sudden chaos and rushed to Dean's side where he lay next to the chopping block. Sam did his best to haul Dean to his feet with his still-bound hands.