Hiya. This was written for a prompt on the kink-meme but I thought I'd post the rating approved parts here as well to see what people think. :) You don't have to review or anything, I certainly won't hold the chapters for ransom or anything like that, but if you do find something you like, let me know, and the same for if you hate it. I'll never improve my writing if people won't tell me there's something wrong with it :) (It'll also be on the kink-meme and AO3 for those of you who want something a bit more explicit when I get round to writing 'that' bit :P )

Wren sat facing the giant blond man, apparently a Nord, who had introduced himself as Ralof. She knew, without question, that had he been standing he would have towered over her. Ralof had immediately began questioning her as to her reasons for entering Skyrim. Wren had been too terrified to even open her mouth before the horse thief jumped in, blaming Ralof and his companions for their involvement in the mans capture. The argument had escalated further from there and all Wren could do was shrink back in fear, her bound hands useless, as these violent Nords began to take each other apart verbally.

"Quiet back there!" Wren flinched as the voice of one of the seemingly nameless Imperial Guards called back at the squabbling Nords. The men around her quieted down, though Ralof seemed intent on providing a running commentary on their progress, and Wren felt calm wash over her once more.

She'd never been around so much noise in her life.

Wren had been orphaned early on in her life and had been living on her own for the last eight years. She could use a bow and arrow with some small skill but had only ever used it to hunt small animals to provide meat for her table and furs to sell. Her magic had been bound at the age of one by her mother, partially for her own protection (after almost burning down the village at a sneeze they thought it would be best to wait until she was older and able to control the magic flowing through her veins) and partially as punishment for being the 'sprog-who-ruined-her-mothers-life'. As a Breton her natural magic being bound was tortuous.

Unable to use her natural defences and being cut off from her magicka so young had turned her in to a shy, reclusive youngling. When her mother had died whilst Wren was in her tenth summer she was left without protection in the wilds of Cyrodil. She had retreated further in to her shell, occupying only the little shack she and her mother had once lived in on the outskirts of a small mining town near Kvatch.

Knowing that the spell that bound her magic would begin to fade in her twentieth year and having little idea of the scale of her journey, Wren had made the momentous decision to head towards the college in Winterhold. Leaving her hovel had not been hard, it had never been a true home even when he mother lived. What daunted the young girl the most had been the idea of facing the outside world.

Now here she was facing an uncertain future, possibly containing her execution, imprisonment or both, with these rowdy, terrifying Nords.

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Hadvar sighed as the bell rang out throughout Helgen. He knew what was coming. The runner carrying news of three wagons full of Stormcloak rebels had arrived only yesterday. Arrangements had quickly been made regarding their instant execution. General Tulius had been notified and had arrived earlier that morning with a full regiment of Thalmor Justicars. He knew that it was important to catch the Stormcloaks, and further, knew that it was dangerous to allow them to live among the people. Allowing them to spread a rebellion that could get the citizens of Skyrim killed by the Thalmor.

In spite of the Empire's desire to protect it's citizens, the Thalmor legally had the right to search out, question and detain those who continued in the illegal worship of Talos. Despite this, Hadvar couldn't help but feel saddened that his birthplace was being torn apart like this, with old allies forced to take a stance and brother fighting brother. But, Hadvar knew from experience, not to bring any of his concerns up with his commanding officer.

Putting on his armoured boots he picked up his helmet and followed his men out in to the courtyard.

Three wagons rolled in to the square one after the other but Hadvar's eyes were drawn to the first of them. Amongst the three burly Nords seated in the cart there appeared to be a small female. His view of her was blocked by the slightly slouched form of the blond Nord, gagged and bound and seated in front of her, but her dark, inky hair stood out from the traditional blond hair of the surrounding Nords.

Even as he was trying to catch a glimpse of the mystery female he realised the Captain was talking. Pulling himself together Hadvar tried to decipher what was occurring.

"When you hear your name called, step forward and then move toward the block."

Hadvar stood ahead of the line that had come from the first wagon. Realising that the mystery woman's name might be on his list he quickly scanned down but could see, out of the corner of his eye, that the Captain was becoming impatient.

"Ulfric Stormcloak." The gagged man stepped forward, sending a proud glare Hadvar's way before turning towards the fort.

"Ralof of Riverwood." Hadvar couldn't help the shock that coursed through him as he recognised the man who had once been his childhood friend. Once as close as brothers, now on different sides of this terrible civil war, he would be forced to execute a man he had grown up with.

But now that two of the three Nords in his section had moved off, Hadvar could see the diminutive woman who had travelled with them. She shivered even in the relatively temperate climate of Helgen, her over-large rough-spun tunic clearly not providing the warmth her body needed in these harsher climes. Concern touched him briefly but he pushed it away. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted and he knew that there was no point feeling anything for a Stormcloak prisoner, as all were destined for the axe this day. Frowning slightly he looked at the last name on the list. Only one? That couldn't be right.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." he called. The jumpy thief standing slightly ahead of her sprang forward.

"No wait. We're not rebels. You can't do this." The captain glared at him, letting him know that his execution was occurring whether he liked it or not. The thief started running.

"You're not going to kill me!" With that passing shot he ran past the guards towards the gates of Helgen, arms still bound.

"Archers!" The shout came from next to him and he heard the sounds of the Imperial Archers loosing their arrows and the dull thunking sound as every one of them found their mark. Unable to help himself, he turned to see the reaction of the young girl and almost gasped in shock.

He couldn't stop his heart from going out to her this time as he saw the terrified look that crossed her face. She seemed to have taken an involuntary step backwards and was pressed against the side of the wagon, tears in her eyes. This was no battle hardened Stormcloak rebel, not a thief either, from the tears in her deep blue eyes.

"Let's see if anyone else is thinking of escape now." Crowed the Captain from next to him. Jerked from his thoughts, Hadvar checked the list once more.

"Who are you?" he asked after checking the lists of the other guards to make sure she hadn't been put on one of those by mistake. When she still didn't step forward, Hadvar was about to ask again but the Captain strode forward. Violently grasping hold of the girls shoulder length hair, she dragged her forward to stand before him. He tried to hide his shock at the Captain's loss of control but wasn't sure he managed it completely when Rikke's frown grew deeper.

"State your name Prisoner!"

The girl struggled to right herself, looking up at the Captain with undisguised terror.

"Wren. From near Kvatch. Please, what's going on?" She stuttered.

Hadvar forced himself to ignore her pleas, but deep down he longed to offer her some form of comfort, and inappropriate though it was , his interest had been peaked when the shoulder from her tunic had slipped down her arm revealing the top curve of one of her lush breasts. Hadvar, after months on duty, itched to taste the skin in the slight hollow of her collarbone.

Quickly shaking the lust from his eyes, knowing his Captain would not be impressed, he turned to his superior.

"What do we do Captain? Her name's not on the list."

…...

Thrice damned Bretons! Captain Rikke knew her hatred of the race was bordering on the the extreme but she just couldn't help it. She hated that Breton females garnered so much attention from her Nordic kinsmen just because of the novelty of their diminutive size. She had seen the lust in Hadvar's eyes even as he tried to hide it. She strode forward and grasped the bitch's hair in her fist, hauling her forward. Rikke watched as the little Stormcloak slut wriggled pathetically in her hold. Death was too good for scum like her.

That was when the idea hit her. A punishment worse than death. What could be worse for what had to be a staunch Stormcloak supporter than to be defiled by one of her enemies, and on the off chance that she wasn't a rebel, it would be far too late to do anything about it by that point.

"Support of the Stormcloak rebels is punishable by death!" She said sternly in response to Hadvar's question, hoping to goad him in to saying what she wanted him to. Ah, there it was, in the widening of his eyes.

"Forgive me Captain, but should we really be executing what could be an innocent without further questioning or a trial? What if she isn't a Stormcloak? She doesn't wear their armour."

"Oh...and would you vouch for her Hadvar? A possible Stormcloak spy?" She didn't allow him to answer as she plowed on.

"Well then, you have responsibility of her. Your own personal prisoner-of-war!"

…...

Hadvar stared, shocked, at his Captain as she violently shoved the young Breton in to his arms. He staggered slightly at the force behind her blow. Hadvar felt as Wren's bound hands came up to steady herself, the only purchase available being the slight folds of his tunic and armour.

"Please...I'm s...sorry."

Hadvar could barely hear what she was saying, it was so quiet. With his hands on her waist, holding her up, he could feel every tremble and sob as they wracked her slim frame. Putting an arm around her to steady the girl against him, he straightened and raised his gaze to the drama unfolding before his eyes in the courtyard.

Despite the fact that he had just been gifted a living person as though she were nothing more than a trinket from the local market, Hadvar knew that he didn't have time to really process what had happened. Nor did he have time to offer any real words of comfort to the poor girl shivering in his arms.

General Tulius stood before the assembled Stormcloaks. Hadvar wasn't close enough to hear what he was saying but the General seemed to be berating Ulfric Stormcloak and he could see Captain Rikke heading towards the gathering as he spoke. As Tulius turned to leave, Rikke politely tapped him on the shoulder, levelling a deep bow towards him to show the appropriate respect. Hadvar still couldn't hear what they were saying, but when Tulius frowned and turned once more towards the courtyard he knew that something further had been initiated by Rikke.

He looked down at Wren. She was still clinging to his armour, shivering in the cool wind that came off the mountain in to Helgen, though her sobs had quieted somewhat. General Tulius was making his way over to them and Hadvar didn't like the frown on his superior's face. He tried to comfort Wren as much as was possible in the short time allowed to them.

"Look. It'll be all right...I'll do my best to make sure you get back to your family and get out of this unscathed. I'm so sorry this has happened to you."

His breath caught in his throat as she looked up at him. A bolt of shock and lust running through him as he looked in to the glacial blue of her eyes. It may have been inappropriate to feel lust at such a time, but she had peaked his interest, though he would never act upon it. It had already struck him that it would be a complete breach of his honour and the trust Wren was putting in him, written in her silent acceptance of his words, to take advantage of the young girl.

Wren tucked her head back against his chest as Tulius joined them and Hadvar was astounded once more by the tender feelings evoked by her trust in him. He held her tighter to him, hoping to tell her without words that he would keep her safe.

…...

Wren couldn't help but feel safe in the arms of this soldier. She had never really been able to read people or their intentions but his solid warmth and the softly spoken words of moments ago had her instinctively seeking shelter within his protection. She prayed desperately that this was not just a ploy and that she could truly trust the soldier currently keeping her shaky knees from dragging her once more to the rough cobbles beneath her feet. There was nothing she could do if he was tricking her and so she left her fate in the hands of the Nine and surrendered her care to him. Within the comforting circle of his arms she was only peripherally aware of the drama playing out next to her.

The first warning that the gods were laughing at her prayers once again came in the sudden tightening of the arms around her. It didn't feel crushing, just tighter, and seemed almost to turn her away from the source of attack, though she didn't even move. Wren pricked up her ears and paid attention. Surviving on her own had made her cautious. Even with his promise. Listening intently, she heard words like 'questioned' and 'rebel' coming from the man stood beside them. Lifting her head cautiously she sneaked a peek, trying to get a hold on what was going on. Stood next to them was an older man, though definitely military, and behind him, sneering, the Captain who had shoved her in to the arms of the man currently holding her up.

"Sir, please. Respectfully, you can't seriously believe this girl is a rebel, much less a rebel spy." The words seemed to rumble deeply as they were spoken and even through the armour, Wren could feel them against her chest.

"Legate. I understand your reluctance to part with your property, however, be assured that she will be returned to you unharmed after questioning. Providing, of course, that we find her to be innocent of association with the Stormcloaks. I cannot allow one soldier's disagreement of our methods to stand in the way of the Empire's cause."

Wren didn't understand what was happening entirely, although she found that, whilst she didn't care for being thought of as any person's property other than her own, there was nothing she could do about it at this point and if that's what it took to get away from all these people then that was fine. Although she still did not know his name, she had never heard him call her his property and he had promised to return her to her family. She had no family but he didn't know that and it was the intention behind the promise that really made her feel safe. She looked up at him to see what would happen next. The line of his jaw was tensed and the look on his face grim. Moments went by with no action and Wren glanced, confused, at the other two participants of this strange conversation she'd only heard half of.

"Do I need to make that an order Legate?" He sounded less controlled now, as though the thought of this man disobeying him wasn't just offensive but ridiculous.

Nothing happened for several seconds. Then the arms holding her up slackened somewhat. Wren caught herself as her knees almost gave way once more but she couldn't bring herself to let go of the man's tunic completely.

"No Sir. May I just have a moment to tell her what's happening?" Wren couldn't help it, the empty feeling of dread returned to her chest at his words. She told herself she should never have got her hopes up. Safety was an illusion. Allowing herself to trust, a mistake.

"Fine, Legate. But make it quick. You still have an execution to supervise." The other man moved away somewhat and suddenly Wren found herself staring in to warm brown eyes. He held her up by her elbows, giving her time to steady her legs. Her hands were just in front of her face, brought up by the sudden movement and the instinctive desire to protect her face and head from whatever may be coming next, but the way he was bending, locking eyes with her, put his face almost within her hands, bound though they were.

"I swear, on my honour as a member of the Imperial Army, that I will get you out of here and back to your family. I will do my best to ensure that no harm comes to you. I have to oversee the execution now, but as soon as I can, I'll come and find you and work out how to get you home. Do you understand?"

Wren's fingers moved on their own, she would never have commanded them to do such a thing, and she slowly ran the very tip of her thumb along the curve of his cheekbone, just under his right eye and then down, towards the edge of his jaw. Her gaze was inextricably drawn to his lips as they parted ever so slightly and she noticed a light tinge of pink bloom just underneath her thumb. Her thumb which rested lightly on the man's jaw-line. Eye's widening in shock, she snatched her hands away pulling them against her chest. What in all the heavens had possessed her to do such a thing? Wren ducked her head, desperately embarrassed by the lack of control she had over her own limbs, unable to understand why she had felt the need to touch his skin. She didn't even know his name.

Refusing to look him in the eye again, apparently her limbs found that too enticing, she tried to centre herself and work out what was going on, both with her own body and around her.

"Do you understand?" He asked again and Wren thought there might have been a slight waver in his voice as he said it. She nodded, still unable to meet his eyes, but dragging forward the courage to ask just one question.

"What's your name?' She asked, voice so quiet it was a whisper. He didn't answer for a moment and thinking she had perhaps offended him, Wren looked up at last. The first thing she noticed was how warm his eyes still were. Surely that was a trick, or an illusion. Something she was making herself see, providing herself with comfort in this most dire of situations. She'd never seen warmth in a persons eyes before, only ever the cold, hard flash of hate in her mother's eyes, and she had never been close enough to a man to even determine the colour of his eyes, let alone the emotions within them. She could see that though he looked tense, he didn't look angry with her question, instead, the corners of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly and he was looking in to her eyes again as he answered.

"Hadvar. Of Riverwood."

"Thank you Hadvar." She whispered.

At this, Hadvar seemed to notice that the General and the Captain were coming back over. Wren's eyes widened slightly as the rest of the world rushed back in. The fact that she was standing in a courtyard full of men about to be executed had not been forgotten, but had seemed to fade in to the background some what. Hadvar seemed reluctant to let go of her arms and Wren was unbelievably grateful for the support, however when the older military man came to stand before them, Hadvar stepped back, his hands falling to his side and then in to a salute. Wren was left standing, isolated in the courtyard, at the mercy of the woman who had thrown her to the ground and then in to the arms of a soldier and the man who had demanded that she be questioned. She turned to face them but couldn't bring her self to look them in the eye. Her fear kept her timid but she knew that the fear would do nothing to help her so she tried to keep it from overwhelming her once more.

The woman grabbed her arm and dragged her off towards the keep. Her dark eyes sharp and narrowed in their hatred, Wren knew she was not escaping this new situation unscathed. She cast a glance back at Hadvar, knowing that despite his promise, this might be the last time she saw him. To her complete surprise, he was following her with his eyes, brown met blue and her breath was taken from her. He looked resolute, his jaw set and his eyes steely, and Wren knew, now without a doubt, that he would find her. She just hoped that he was in time.

She was dragged past the men she had rode in the cart with and despite her fear of them, she truly prayed that should they be executed, which looked to be the only possible outcome, that they find peace within the afterlife. She kept her head down, not wanting to give the Captain another reason to hate her, though she clearly didn't need one and being un-provoking may be completely useless. The Keep loomed ahead of them, the giant double doors flanked by Imperial Soldiers. They rushed to pull the doors open for the Captain and saluted as they passed. Wren had raised her head as they passed, not wanting to fall in the entrance to the keep and she was pulled through the door she saw one of the guards leering at her. She could only be grateful that she had been given to Hadvar rather than one of these other soldiers. She had the instinctive feeling that they would not be quite so honourable in their dealings with her.

They paused momentarily as a gate within the Keep was unlocked and opened for her and then entered a large circular room. The iron gate was closed swiftly behind them and Wren could take in the room despite the flickering torch light. Every archway had a gate in it, each one locked. The Captain had released her arm from the bruising grip she had maintained throughout their trip across the courtyard and she could feel the blood rush back in to her arms. She glanced over at the woman who'd dragged her here, she was fishing through a ring of keys held on her belt. Escape hadn't even occurred to her, but she knew it would be pointless to try now that they were within the Keep. She was surrounded by walls of steel and iron and heavy stone.

The Captain had removed a key from the ring of them, and was walking back towards her. Wren wondered why she had removed the key from the ring when it had a clasp to remove it from the belt and keep all the keys together. She was answered very quickly when the Captain wrapped her fist around the key, leaving the prongs exposed at the bottom. She tried to back up against the wall when she saw the gleam in the other woman's eyes, but she was caught by the rope that held her wrists together and the Captain swung. The world around her went black once more as her fist connected with the side of her face and she fell to the floor.