AN: I hate writing these, but everyone else does them so whatever. AN's I mean, not bad Skyrim fanfics. I love writing them, publishing them not so much. Hi. Have a read, or don't, and do whatever you like when it comes to rating, following and favouriting. Just remember I appreciate everything you do3 -F
My dad and I were always close. As far as I can recall we would hunt out deer for meat and leather, forage for herbs together, he'd have me run errands for the Companions if they needed doing and weren't too difficult. He taught me how to sharpen a dagger, string a bow and brew a potion. He taught me everything I'd need to know to survive, as if he knew that when I reached the ripe old age of seventeen we'd be separated and I'd be roughing it out on the run.
The minute the war broke out, officially, we'd packed our things and booked the first carriage out of Skyrim. My ma, my dad, my three younger siblings and myself obviously. My sisters just cried the whole journey, not wanting to leave the cat who'd adopted us behind - I was happy to see it go, personally. They didn't understand how important it was for us to leave. The Imperials weren't likely to take the news that one of there own was siding with Ulfric and the rebellion.
I remember looking over my ma's shoulder as she sat in front of me, my mind as clear as the lake I could see through the trees. We turned a corner slowly, but it didn't break my concentration. I was lost deep in thoughts of sweet nothingness. I was at ease, which was difficult for me to understand, given the situation. Or at least, I was at ease until I saw the flash of a torch being lit in the distance. My beautiful, calm lake had been replaced with the Imperial army rolling up their sleeves in preparation for battle. My heart sunk, and the collective sigh from the rest of the carriage told me that everyone felt the same. No way were they going to let us leave, probably thought we were smuggling the resistance with us. No resistance, just some questionable goat's cheese that was grabbed in the rush to pack. They could confiscate that if they wanted.
I regret to admit that I'm not exactly sure what happened after the Imperial archers began raining death from above onto us. Dad got one in the leg, I think it was only him who got injured. Sitting bolt upright I remember someone handing me a sword, or maybe I took it myself. Nobody hurt my daddy and got away with it. I jumped, maybe fell, from the back of the carriage, rolling to break my fall on the dusty ground as three guards closed in. My fault or otherwise, this encounter wasn't going to end well. The next thing I do remember for sure was looking to my right and seeing the face of the rebellion himself, Ulfric Stormcloack. He was gagged tightly with a strip of linen, and his hands were bound with rope the same as mine. A guard told us to keep quiet as another passenger in this new carriage tried to make conversation. We were nearly at our destination, wherever that was. Something hit me over the head, hard, as Helgen in all her glory came into view. I felt the bindings around my wrists being slashed as I fell from the carriage, my vision turning into nothing but a blur of green and brown.