(Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, I have not finished Skyrim, and this will deviate heavily from the official narrative. Please don't flame, and review fairly. On with the show)
"General Tullius, your carriage of executionees approaches" a womanly voice says to the General.
"Yes, I must thank you I suppose. We will finally be able to execute Ulfric Stormcloak, thedamned traitor" with those words, Tullius leaves to go observe the executions.
The world, is quiet and still as the high elf begins to ride out of Helgen. Her hair was a dark and blackish color, but obscured by her intricate hood. She stops at the gate. With a slow gaze she watches the carriage of traitors ride off to their deaths. She tears her eyes away and with the sigh of one bound by job, stalks off on her horse. Little did she know, of the plan fate had in store for her that day.
It was quick, nearly bloodless in fact. Yet another Nord given a shave with the axe. "Next! Ralof!" The legate calls, and the blonde nord approaches. He's out to the chopping block when a roar shakes the landscape. A giant form blots out the sun for a brief moment.
Alduin hovered there for some time, watching the shocked locals as he looked down at the head of the one who was supposed to kill him. Some dragonborn. No matter, one less thing to worry about as he lands onto the tower and unleashes his meteor storm upon the helpless fools. The dragonborn is dead, he thinks in the back of his mind. Who can save this world now?
(What did you think? Make sure to review please. This is my first real story so I hope it gets a few looks. I'll post the next chapter soon hopefully)