The first thing she noticed when she awoke was the dull aching pain in the back of her skull. It hinted at what had happened she knew, yet for the life of her could not remember anything. The second thing she noticed was that her wrists were bound. This was not good, on the one occasion before that she had awoken with her wrists bound before, the rest of her family had not awoken with her. She winced at that pain, stronger and still more painful than any bruise on the back of her head.
The seat she was slumped on suddenly jolted, a similar jolt had probably been what had awoken her- she certainly didn't feel ready to wake up. She emptied her mind of thoughts of the past and tried to focus in on the confused sounds around her. She heard a horse whinny, over the constant noise of wood on stone- wheels turning. She reached down and grasped the solid wood below her. On a cart then: the plot thickens.
A voice suddenly cut through, to her left "Finally woken up have you?" She thought about ignoring the voice and remaining in her listless state but instead forced her eyes open and looked towards where the voice was coming from. A tall blonde Nord sat on the other side of the cart, also in chains. "Who might you be?" he asked as she sat up and took stock of her surroundings. She was sat with three other bound prisoners- three Nords, the talkative one in mail, a dark haired shifty looking man next to him and to her right a very tall, powerfully built man, gagged and bound in chains, not mere rope as on her own wrists. Behind the cart rode a soldier on horseback, another Nord by the looks of him, with long brown hair and a strong face, this one however wearing the red and silver armour of an Imperial Legionnaire.
Just like my father's armour, a though unbidden surged through her mind.
No, she would not think of that now, there are a few more pressing concerns, she thought dryly. To her left another Imperial soldier drove the cart which appeared to be at the end of a convoy including one other cart and several horsed soldiers, one of them dressed resplendent in a General's armour.
"Not the talkative type, ey?" the blonde Nord's voice cut through her observations.
"Sorry," she replied, her voice cracking with her dry throat. "Trying to work out who I am before I commit to an answer."
The Nord laughed. "Aye, that's a pretty lump you've got on your head there. You were trying to cross the border, got caught up in that Imperial ambush with the rest of us." Yes, an ambush- at first she had thought it was bandits making to rob her, as she made her way through the mountains into Skyrim, yet these men had been better armoured than any bandits and fought with better discipline, loosing off arrows at an enemy she couldn't see. She had tried to run, away from the battle raging ahead on the road, but had tripped in her haste, seemingly smashing her head on the floor. Not the most heroic way to get captured, she thought.
The darker toned Nord to her right had joined in the conversation and now turned to face her. "You and me, we shouldn't even be here, it's these Stormcloaks they want!" Had the Imperial Army really taken her for a Nord rebel?
"I was only trying to run away," she said looking towards the man; he was clad in rags and had a massive scar across his cheek.
"Me too," he replied. "I could have been halfway to Hammerfell by now." He looked towards the blonde man. "Skyrim was all good until you Stormcloaks came along, Empire was nice and lazy."
The man just gave him a look of contempt and instead looked across the cart. "I'm Ralof of Riverwood," he said- looking into her eyes. "Who are you then, Breton?"
"My name is Claudia Avici."
His eyes widened. "No Breton then! Do the Legionnaires know they have an Imperial in chains?"
"I shall try and let them know as soon as possible," Claudia said whilst turning to look at the driver of their cart, who was paying them no heed. Further ahead, the General had moved ahead bearing left down the hill, only just visible through the early morning mists. He would be the one to appeal to when they stopped.
They sat in silence for a while, Claudia sitting up straighter as she felt the sun begin to warm her back. It also illuminated the scenery they went past- wild bushes and shrubs dotted the hillside to the right of the cart, whilst butterflies and birds flew through the air nearby. At one point a deer, startled by their progress ran across the road in front of them and into the woods behind Claudia.
"Do Stormcloak prisoners get fed?" Claudia asked after a while. Ralof chuckled and gave her a look of pity.
"I don't think we'll be having another meal as long as we live," he said sadly.
"What?" the man to his left said. "I haven't eaten for two days already. Do they mean to starve us to death?"
"You should have eaten that horse you stole, thief," Ralof retorted.
The thief gave him a dirty look but didn't rise to the argument. "Who's he?" he said instead, pointing towards the gagged man to Claudia's right. He had barely moved since she had woken and did not even look up at the sound of the thief's voice.
"Show some respect, that's Jarl Ulfric you're pointing at, Lord of Windhelm and the true High King of Skyrim"
The thief's face blanched. "The leader of the rebellion?" he asked in a squeaky voice. Ralof nodded in response, "Oh gods, where are they taking us?"
"I don't know, but Sovngarde awaits," Ralof said glumly, leaning back against the chair and looking skywards.
"Now I see what you mean about your last meal," Claudia said.
"Your last meal? It'll be all our last meals Imperial; you really think the Legion will let you go- once you've been shackled that's it for you."
Claudia gave him a defiant stare but did not reply. She thought back to what her father had said about the bureaucracy of the Legion- she could only hope the General was more concerned with not killing her unjustly than having to fill out some paperwork.
A town appeared before them; small stone walls and gates agape, a roaring fire beyond them, as if welcoming them into the gates of Oblivion. "Ah, Helgen," Ralof said wistfully. "Not two miles from where I was born- I used to be sweet on a girl from round here," He licked his lips. "And I wonder if Helga still makes that wine with Juniper berries in?"
Jarl Ulfric gave a muffled laugh and startled Claudia. He had sat up, towering over her and seemed to be paying much more attention to the surroundings.
"Where are you from, horse thief?" Ralof asked.
"W-why?" the thief asked, distracted from his moping.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," he grinned towards Claudia. "And an Imperial's"
"I'm from Rorikstead," the thief said. "I'm Lokir, son of Sven."
Ralof looked expectantly at Claudia. "I'm from the Imperial City," she said, quietly after a moment. The greatest city in all of Tamriel, all stone and marble and beautiful fountains, she still remembered playing in the Arboretum as a child- a whole district of the city populated only by beauty of Cyodilic nature, she still remembered marvelling at the huge statue of the dragon in the Temple of Akatosh, the dragon which had saved the world 200 years ago. And of course, the White-Gold tower, vast and immovable, just like the whole city had seemed to be.
Of course that had all been before... before the Great War.
The cart trundled through the gateways and into the town of Helgen, more of a village if truth be told, a collection of wooden houses wound into the side of a hill. The village was all out to greet them, children playing in the streets, wives and mothers and the men all performing their morning duties, though they quickly moved aside when the convoy approached them. It was not only the villagers out to greet them however; there was another force there, one which both Claudia and Ralof tensed at the sight of.
"I see your friends the Thalmor are here," Ralof said to her.
My friends? Claudia thought bitterly; the killers of my father, my brothers and the scourers of my beloved homeland, they shall only be my friends when I have destroyed every single one of them and cleansed the Summerset Isle with their blood. She affixed Ralof with a look which could have curdled blood. "The Thalmor are not my friends."
He at least had the good grace to look abashed. "They are no one's friends I shouldn't doubt," he said, half apologising. "Except General Tullius, or so it would seem." Claudia looked towards where the General had peeled off from the group to talk to the elves at the side of the road.
Claudia clenched her fist. Her father would never have treated with the enemy like this General was doing, the sight of it made her feel ill and for a moment she almost felt some sympathy for the Stormcloak cause. She looked at Ulfric, who too was giving the elves a look of hatred.
Well, that at least we have in common, Claudia thought. That and the fact that we're both about to get our heads chopped off. From the small amounts of news she'd heard when travelling to and from Whiterun over the past years, Ulfric had been in the legion during the Great War but now fought for an independent Skyrim, though in truth many felt he fought only for his own personal glory. Looking at him, Claudia saw a capable warrior, but there were certainly the signs of a vainglorious leader in there- the fancy cloak and great gold chains around his neck.
In any case, he had torn Skyrim apart when he had killed High King Torygg, which Claudia had only learnt three weeks past at an inn outside Bruma, and anything which tore Skyrim apart only made the Empire weaker and the Thalmor stronger. Claudia glanced once more at Ulfric sitting there with his clenched fists. However, much you hate them, they probably love you, she thought. They only profited from the division of the North, they'll be almost as upset about your death as you will be.
A cloud rolled across the sun and it grew cold as the temperature suddenly fell into keeping with the early spring month it was. Claudia shivered as the cart rolled to a stop. "Why are we stopping?" Lokir asked in that whiny voice of his.
"Why do you think," Ralof replied. "End of the Line." He turned to Claudia who had stayed seated. "Best move quickly, wouldn't want to keep the Gods waiting now, would we?"
Claudia shuffled to the edge of the cart and jumped off, standing behind Ulfric as the Legionnaire who had ridden behind then called out names. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," came the call. The mass in front of her shuffled off towards the headsman's block Claudia only now saw on the other side of the square. "Ralof of Riverwood," the blonde Stormcloak strode off to join his Lord.
To the side the prisoners of the other cart were called out and strode over to wait for their death. Lokir was not so willing to accept his fate, however. "I'm not a rebel, please, you have to listen!" Claudia heard him shouting.
"I'm not interested, get to the block prisoner!" A Redguard legionnaire shouted back with her voice at an equal volume and with a lot more threat behind it.
"No, you'll never kill me!" Lokir declared and set off at a run towards the gates.
The Redguard woman didn't even turn around. "Archers!" she called.
Lokir's hands were still bound and he couldn't get any speed up as he waddled towards the gates, which he quickly realised were now closed. Claudia saw the look of dismay on his face for a second as he span around, frantically searching for a way out, before he went tumbling to the floor, three arrows sticking through his chest.
"Anyone else feel like running?" the Redguard woman leered a tad unnecessarily, as it was only Claudia who remained to be sorted. The Nord next to her looked up at her and then down at his sheet, pulling a rather confused face, before turning to his compatriot. "There's no one else, she's not on the list."
The Redguard woman looked irritated. "Come here!" she called to Claudia. "Who are you, girl?"
"Claudia Avici, ma'am," Claudia said, head bowed. "Imperial."
"I don't care what you are, go to the block!"
Claudia stared at her, well politeness hadn't worked. "How many Imperials do you know who have joined the Stormcloaks?" she said bluntly.
The Redguard looked ready to kill her right there but the Nord intervened. "We've heard of no one of that description in the Stormcloaks, let alone in Ulfric's own bodyguard," he said.
"She was with them, that's as much proof as you need Hadvar."
"Still, best to make sure before we execute the Emperor's cousin or something," Hadvar said, smiling at Claudia.
"Bah, she looks more a cousin to a wraith than an Emperor," the Redguard scoffed. "Very well, follow me prisoner, General Tullius will decide."
They strode over the square towards the milling crowd of bound Stormcloaks, surrounded by a ring of Imperial soldiers, swords drawn. A man was already face-down on the block, yet his words cut through the air. "My ancestors are smiling on me Imperials, can you say the same?" The headsman raised his axe. "Talos save..." his words were cut off as the sword came down, killing him instantly, though it took another blow to sever his head.
The Stormcloaks took it silently though Claudia heard a child crying behind her as the blood poured out of the stump where the defiant Nord's head had once been. Ralof turned as he saw her approaching. "As brave in death as he was in life," he said as she passed.
General Tullius had no eyes for the execution, instead he was berating Ulfric. "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," Ulfric looked down at Tullius and growled through his gag. He stood over a foot above the General, yet looking at the two leaders; Claudia thought a fight between them would be close indeed. The General was lean, wiry and stood light on his feet as he rocked from heel to toe shouting at Ulfric. "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore peace."
"Sorry to interrupt General," the Redguard said, causing the General to spin suddenly in their direction. "We have someone who wasn't on the list."
The General stared at the Redguard. "What do I care, Legate?" he asked. "All the rebel scum are to die, by order of the Emperor!"
The Legate looked at Hadvar, "I told you..." but was cut off by Claudia pushing herself forward.
"Sir, please... General Tullius..." she began. He turned his stare towards her, face hard set in anger though upon seeing her it quickly faded away to be replaced by confusion.
"Do I know you?" he snapped.
"Sir..."
"Wait," his expression softened."You're... you're Itius' girl aren't you... Clavia? Cl..
"Claudia," she responded. He knew her father! She may yet be saved.
"Ah yes," the General smiled turning to the Redguard Legate. "Do not kill this girl, take her to the keep and give her a meal, she looks like she needs it," he smiled again.
His face is totally transformed when he looks like that, she thought. Father had been the same, so serious when with his soldiers and sons, only Claudia and Mum had ever been allowed to see him smile.
Tullius' own smile did not last long, however, as he turned back to the task in hand. "Why have you stopped?" he barked. "Give Ulfric his last rites."
The Imperial soldiers bustled back into their roles one man grabbing hold of Ulfric and pulling him towards the block. He was quickly shrugged off however and Ulfric strode the rest of the way himself.
As he lay his head down upon the block however, a blood curdling shriek cut through the air, stopping the Priestess short.
Claudia turned towards the mountain, hearing the noise again, this time from behind her. Something passed over the sun casting a shadow over the square.
"What in Oblivion is that?" Tullius shouted. Claudia turned once more and saw it, a vast winged beast, black as ebony with eyes red, like two burning coals, eyes which appeared to be staring straight at her...
"D-d-d-dragon!" came the voice of the Priestess before everything went white.