I saw him again. The Flaming Dragon from my dreams. He has come to visit much more often lately. He roars and shouts with the flames emanating from his bones and the ones spewed from his mouth cause me to wake in a feverish sweat. He flies and hovers above me, taking destruction anywhere I try to run and hide. Everything burns around me, I suffocate on the ashes and he lands blocking me from any chance of escape. He fixates on me with his yellow piercing stare, eyes aflame like the rest of his body. It is then he shouts at me, the unfamiliar language rolling off his tongue in a thunderous clash sending me flying through the air. When I fall, I remain suspended in a black void swallowing me whole, sending me catapulting into the real world when I awake with a sense of panic.
I have seen this Dragon as a man. This man is like no other – Pale marble skin appears as smooth as stone and a strikingly straight jaw line, framed with silky white and silver hair flows down far past his shoulders. He stands taller than any Mer or Man in current existence and his lean muscled body is draped in black robes, his feet bare showing from where they pool on the floor around him. Though it is the eyes glowing yellow and aflame that always catches my attention. It is the Dragon within, escaping through the small bits the man allows.
When the man appeared I was no more than a small child. The Flaming Dragon flew above me for the first time and I curled away from him in fear. When he landed I screamed above the roar of the flames, trying to hear my own voice. Then there was silence and the Dragon was gone. The man appeared before me, crouched down at my side. He held his hand out for me to take, his long fingers wrapped around my tiny, stubby childish fingers and he pulled me to him. I was lifted in the air and was face to face with those glowing eyes. The fiery eyes flickered in the wind as we stared at each other. He reached his hand up and tucked a wavy lock of my hair behind my ear, moving his hand smoothly against my cheek before he brought me to him and kissed my forehead. He spoke in that unfamiliar language, his whole body rumbling with each syllable. I do not remember but only his final words, yet I do not know their meaning. He whispered them to me as if I was meant to keep them a secret. "Lokaalii Elskahii Saviik" Those words have remained a whisper, forever bouncing around in my subconscious.
I have not been graced by the man since my childhood dream. It is the Dragon and his destruction haunting my dreams as of late. His shouts grow louder, his flames hotter and the void expands. His eyes glow brighter with every encounter and I cannot fathom what the Dragon wants of me. I always try to run, but I only end up falling. I fall and I fall, yet always the dream returns and I still run…
Asmara's eyes flew open, her body launching into an upright position. She gasped for air, her chest heaved with her deep breaths and sweat glistened on every inch of her skin. She was hot and needed to cool down quickly. She took in her surroundings, greeted by the lush greens of Farlkreath Hold and the smell of pine would have been nearly overwhelming if she had not lived in the southern parts of Skyrim all her life. She shoved her bedroll down her legs and brought her knees up, resting her elbows atop them. She unbraided her rich dark brown hair in the sweaty mess it was and attempted running her fingers through it only to give up after a moment of trying.
She stood, feeling exhausted despite the fact she slept through most of the night. She lifted her arms above her head, interlinking her fingers together and pushing away from her as she stretched. A satisfying crack came from her back and she shook herself loose. She collected her hide, knee length boots, slipping them on quickly and grabbed her quiver full of arrows, buckling it around her torso. Her wooden hunting bow sat perched against a nearby tree. She shifted the bow over her soldier and positioned it so it the string went directly between her breasts along with the quiver strap. She rolled up her bedroll neatly, stuffing it into the leather bag she crafted from a bear pelt.
When all her things were gathered, she slowly began trekking through the forest. She quietly moved over the fallen pine needles and pine cones, listening for a sign of water or food. Her ears twitched slightly when she heard the rush of a small stream to the south. She moved closer, the sound getting louder. Nearly ten minutes later she found a small stream, just big enough for what she intended. She placed her bow against a tree once again, the quiver sitting next to it. She removed the thick furs and leather trousers, soaking each in the stream momentarily while rubbing dried mountain flowers on them to take away any smells. She flung her clothes over a tree branch to dry while she did the same to her skin and hair, cleansing herself of the remnants of her dream.
Her clothes were still damp when she finished due to the soggy weather that seemed a consistent companion while in Falkreath Hold. Looking at the fog around her, she made a point to head back towards the Rift soon. She preferred the Rift to Falkreath. Asmara always favored the warm autumn toned trees, the scent of honeysuckles and the summery sun compared to the rainy days and green forestation that spread on forever. Her mother, Elsyeril, however preferred Falkreath. Nothing in Skyrim represented her home of Valenwood, but Falkreath was the closest. The green, tall trees held the best resemblance to Malabal Tor, but nothing could compare to the taller and thick trees of those in Elden Root. Asmara had never left Skyrim, but she could sometimes feel drawn to the southern border, bringing her closer to the warm climates that would be present in Valenwood. Her mother would tell stories of her time spent in Elden Root with its large graht-oaks and the wild, untamed creatures that inhabited the jungles. Asmara had always cherished the stories of monkeys and imga, her mother always moving her arms drastically explaining their movements.
She threw on the damp furs and trousers, stuffing the bottoms into her hide boots. She ran her fingers through her hair in which she never bothered to trim. Starting from the top of her head, she began braiding her hair, gathering more of her hair into each section as the braid progressed. She draped the braid over her right shoulder as she tied it with a small strip of leather. The thick braid reached past her breasts and had small bits sticking out, the unruly ends refusing to completely cooperate. She crouched down to shuffle through her bag taking stock of the items she had left. She found her small coin purse and was disappointed by the light weight of it. She was disappointed further when she opened it to see only three septims left. There was a single minor healing potion left but she had easy access to the ingredients for another. She found her two daggers she pulled off a dead bandit and strapped one to her thigh, the other around her calf, inside her boot. Other than her bedroll and the Amulet of Akatosh her mother gave her as a child, there was nothing left in her bag. She sighed to herself, stuffing the items back in her bag before she slung it over her shoulder. She had not been lucky in her hunt as of late and would need a heavy bounty to fill her coin purse. She would also need to find herself an Alchemy kit so she could make herself more potions. She had a close call with a frostbite spider a few days prior and did not anticipate needing to make more so soon.
She grabbed her bow and quiver from their place against a tree. She strapped the quiver around herself but kept her bow in hand, ready to start her hunt. She tilted her head towards the grey and clouded skies, closing her eyes when she inhaled slowly through her nose, picking up the scents of the woods around her. She could smell the fresh water from the stream and the slight hint of the mountain flowers on her clothes, skin, and hair. The scent of pine was heavy as well as the moldy smell of moss and morning dew. The wind picked up from the west and that is when she caught the scent of her prey. After she let out a steady breath she turned her head towards the smell. She steadily walked towards her target, her eyes still closed while her ears did all the seeing for her. They twitched with the changes in the wind, listening for any signs of the warm blooded animal she was tracking through the forest. She was soft in her footing, making only sounds she herself could hear as she crushed the pine needles and sticks beneath her.
She opened her eyes when she heard hooves thumping on the ground. She gently and quietly pulled an arrow from her quiver with her right hand and positioned it near her bow, ready to fire when needed. She crouched low to the ground as she moved, her bow held out in front of her. She heard the hooves move again and she silently picked up her pace. She continued on with her deep inhales, the animal's scent growing stronger.
She stopped in a small open area. Knelt down on one knee, she examined the pressed grass before her. A larger animal had rested in the clearing. The blades of grass felt slightly warm to her touch, much warmer than those covered in morning's dew. The animal had just awoken and could not be far, so she observed the rest of the clearing, following the tracks that would lead her to creature.
After nearly fifty or so yards, the tracks met a small patch of disturbed earth. Asmara picked up the remnants of the grass and soil and rubbed them together in her hand. The grass was pulled from its roots, the animal fed here. She continued her path in the tracks, her ears listening more carefully. She heard the hoof steps only meters from her to the left. She stopped and tilted her head towards the sound. Her eyes scanned the forest, but all she could see were trees that spanned the area. She heard the hooves on the ground again and still saw no sign of the animal, but it was close.
She grabbed a small pine cone at her feet and through it behind her and to the left. She heard the pine cone make contact with a tree then bounced to the earth below. She turned to observe her left again and saw the large elk step out from behind the trees. She smiled to herself as she shifted on her feet, still squatted close to the ground. Her left leg stood out in front of her with her right leg at a ninety-degree angle, her right heel directly underneath her and her left foot kept her steady. She lifted her bow and arrow while keeping her breathing calm. The elk was oblivious to her presence. She aimed her arrow at the elk's skull and pulled the bow string back to her cheek. Her fingers holding the arrow brushed against her face and she took a deep breath.
The wind picked up and the elk trotted away before she could get her shot. She lowered her arms, slightly frustrated. Her braid swayed in the wind and she slowly and quietly followed its direction. She came to a rock formation that gave her a beautiful perch to watch her prey. She scooted to the edge of the flat rock and readied her bow again. The elk made its appearance, bending its head to grab another patch of grass. She inhaled, ready to fire once more.
Just before her exhale, her ears twitched as the ground beneath her rumbled. It was not often Skyrim had earthquakes, but it was not unfamiliar. Her elk moved once again, startled by the grounds shakes. She only had to move slightly on her perch to see the animal stilled once again. She wasted no time readying her bow this time, hoping the third time was truly the charm. She fired her arrow on the exhale, the same moment more rumbling and a large crash resonated through the mountains to the southeast. The elk took off running and her arrow embedded itself in the tree the elk had been placed in front of.
Asmara let out a sound of frustration through gritted teeth and jumped down from her perch to retrieve her arrow. She reached the tree and looked above her, the arrow sticking out from the trunk. She sighed as she reached up to grab it only to find it was only barely in her reach. She stretched and stood on the tips of her toes, trying to dislodge the arrow from the tree trunk. The arrow wouldn't budge so she placed a foot on the tree while trying to pull the arrow out. She lost her footing slightly and when she held the arrow for leverage, it snapped sending her flying back towards the ground, her back hitting the earth with a small thud. She grunted once again in frustration before throwing the arrow's tail back at the tree.
Shouts began to echo to the south and her curiosity spiked. The earth shattering crash she heard earlier sounded perilous and she only hoped no one was injured. Asmara positioned her bow across her torso and started off on a light jog towards the sounds of the shouts. She passed Halldir's Cairn, making sure to keep her distance from the tomb that did nothing but give her chills. She headed up the path towards the border of Hammerfell. She never strayed this far to the border, especially on the roads but they were empty and it was still early morning.
As she grew close to the border's gates, the sounds of shouting grew louder and her pace slowed. When the wooden Imperial gates came into view along with the Imperial border patrol she snuck over to the bushes so her presence was not known. There were a little over half a dozen Imperial soldiers stationed at the gates. They were rushing around the area, and what form, she could not know. She listened carefully to their words but could not hear clearly enough. She attempted to move closer but remained hidden in the bushes.
A few moments later, an Imperial driving a horse cart appeared and a dirty man in rags was loaded onto the cart. The man pleaded the entire time, though it was only his tone of voice she could hear and not his words. A soldier handed the cart driver a parchment he stuffed into his vest and snapped his reigns to get the horses moving. Asmara took this as her cue to leave and began to sneak away.
She got a few yards before the cart was instructed to stop. She pivoted to find an Imperial headed in her direction with his weapon drawn. She quickly spun and continued crawling through the bushes to make her getaway, but she was not quiet enough in her movements.
"I knew I saw something!" She heard the Imperial shout as she heard his footsteps pick up speed. She chanced a glance behind her to see five guards chasing towards her. Her eyes bulged as she jumped up and sprinted off towards the forest. There was a reason she never ventured too close to the border and this was why. Her mother had warned her enough after the Civil War had started and she always listened. Why now, was it that she disobeyed once to find herself under the pursuit of a troupe of Imperials.
She weaved through the thick forestation. Her hunting bow hit the backs of her legs as she ran – an annoying tick in the back of her mind while her main focus was to lose the Imperials. Her shorts legs and light weight carried her quickly though the forest, but the taller and stronger Imperials were winning out. They were shouting for her to stop running, to come willingly so they would not have to use force. She planned on going nowhere with them and their words only carried her farther.
She knew these woods better than the Imperials who were transferred from Cyrodiil. She had a small advantage. She cut to the right, running down a steep hill filled with trees, boulders, and overgrown weeds. She jumped over a large boulder, rolling on the ground when she landed. The angled ground rolled her farther down the hill. Sticks and thorns scraped at her skin as she tumbled and her body ached from the impact of the larger rocks and sticks that stuck out from the ground beneath her. When she finally fell to a stop at the bottom of the hill she yelled out in pain from the harsh punch of the ground. She twisted onto her back to see two of the Imperials carefully maneuvering their way down the hill while the other three aimed their arrows from atop the hill at her.
She jumped to her feet again, slightly limping this time as she continued the chase. Asmara took advantage of their slow descent on the hill and threw herself at the first tree available to climb. She charged up the tree, her firm grip on each knot pushing her higher. When she held a good balance, leaning against the trunk of the tree she looked down in search of the maroon red of the Imperial's armor. They were close but oblivious to her position above them. She swung from an overhead branch to the other side of the tree in an attempt to remain hidden. The Imperials scoured the area looking for her all the while shouting out to her in hopes of her surrender. She would give them no such thing. She pulled the dagger from its holder on her thigh and held it tight, ready to attack if needed.
The three archers finally joined the other two pursuers and their search grew. She bit her lip in her nervousness, hoping to wait them out longer. They would give up the search eventually and she could slip away to the Rift where they would never find her. She drew in quick and heavy breaths through her nose, still trying to catch her breath from her run and the climb up the tree.
She waited longer than she anticipated, her legs nearly cramping from her position, crouched in the tree. The Imperials looked ready to give up and she heaved a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. One of the Imperials sheathed his weapon and a soft ice blue light formed in his hand. The light flared slightly as he cast his spell and a trail of light and fog travelled from his hand. The fog headed straight for the tree. As the fog spiraled up the tree, the Imperial's eyes landed on her. She cursed as she ran to the end of the branch she was perched on and threw her knife down at the archer that had spotted her, who was readying another arrow, aimed straight at her. She did not look to see if the dagger met its target as she leaped from the end of the branch and caught the limb hanging in front of her from a separate tree. She swung down to the ground, landing on her feet with a loud thud, her knees bending to soften the impact. Still knelt down on the ground she turned and saw the Imperials running towards her, while one of them sat in fetal position on the ground, clutching his right shoulder where her dagger pierced. She snatched the second dagger from her boot and threw it at the nearest Imperial as she raced to her feet and darted away.
This time they were much closer and quickly gaining on her. She could hear them but wouldn't dare chance looking behind her to see where they were. She kept running, her legs and lungs were burning but she couldn't think about that, she had to focus on her escape. Finally, once she thought she was safe, she hid behind a tree, standing straight against it. Her breaths were heavy and her chest heaved. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears from the exertion and wanted to topple over to rest. She swallowed as she heard the first Imperial's approach. He was going to fly right past her. She took her bow from its position across her torso and she held it in a tight grip in her left hand. She closed her eyes and listened closely, concentrating on the heavy footsteps approaching and the panting breaths. The moment he stepped near her she spun around the tree, her left arm whipping out with her bow, knocking into the Imperials throat and sending him to the ground on his back. His hands reached towards his throat as he gasped for air and she looked up to see the other Imperial's running towards her.
She nocked an arrow, aiming for the first Imperial's thigh when she let it fly. The arrow went straight through, the arrow head piercing through both sides of his thigh. He screamed and fell down to one knee, clutching his thigh around the protruding arrow. She pulled another arrow from her quiver, but a hand reached around her ankle. The Imperial she hit in the throat had a firm grip on her and yanked her leg out from underneath her. She fell to her back, coughing as all the air in her lungs was sucked out of her. She gasped for the air when the Imperial straddled her legs and reached to grab her arms. She struggled against him, trying to loosen her hands from his grip. She yanked her wrist free with no small amount of force and then elbowed him in the groin. He reached for his manhood groaning and she turned onto her stomach to crawl away. Her bow lay just out of reach and she crawled using her elbows to get to it. Right as her fingers touched the wood, a strong and sure grip was on her ankle again dragging her back. She cried out as she dug her nails into the soil to stop the Imperial from dragging her away from her only weapon left. She kicked at him with her free leg, snapping his nose. His hands shot up to his face and blood seeped out between his fingers. She crawled on her hands over to her bow then took off running again.
She only took a few steps before a sharp pain shot through her left leg. She fell to her knees, looking at the back of her calf to see an arrow sticking out. She looked behind her to see the archer readying another arrow. She drew an arrow quickly then twirled on her knees as the Imperial sent an arrow flying towards her. Her hair wisped around her as the arrow zipped past her. She quickly aimed and fired her own arrow, sending it slicing through the air and puncturing the soldier's arm that was reaching for another arrow. He screamed in pain and she didn't waste another minute before yanking out the arrow in her leg with a strangled cry. She took a moment to swallow the pain before stumbling to her feet.
She turned to sprint off again and came face to face with a large silver plated chest. Hands gripped her throat as she was slammed against a nearby tree trunk, her grip on her bow lost and it fell to the ground at her feet. She looked up at the imposing Imperial who wore commander's armor and felt more than a twinge of fear when she met the scowl on his face. She struggled against his grip, finding it hard to breath. He reared back, puller her with him in his vice like grip and slammed her against the tree again. The wind was once again knocked out of her and she saw white spots dance across her vision. She clawed and pulled at the hand gripping her neck. She couldn't breathe! Her vision started to disappear before he finally released her. She fell to the ground in a gasping heap. Her hands went to her throat, caressing the sore spots left from the Imperial's thick fingers. Her throat hurt and she could barely swallow.
She had no time to recover before she was hoisted up with her arms by two Imperial Soldier's and forced to face the silver plated Imperial once again whose scowl was firmly in place. He glared at her and she hoped she at least had a similar look in her eyes. "What were you doing at the border?" He asked her, his deep voice shaking her slightly. She shook her head before answering.
"Not a thing sir." She didn't recognize the hoarse and breathy voice as hers. The man had squeezed her so tight she wasn't sure how long it would take before she would talk normally again.
"Nothing?" He asked, not buying her answer. She just shook her head, avoiding eye contact. "You know there's a bandit camp not far from here… you sure you don't belong to them?"
"No sir, it's inhabited by Orc bandits." She shook her head as she corrected him. He eyed her and she continued to stare at the ground, refusing to meet his glare.
"Then explain your dress." He stated, picking at her furs.
"I am just a hunter, I use what I kill." She said truthfully.
"You don't look like any kind of hunter I've seen." He stated flatly. He looked between the two guards holding her up before fixating on her one last time. "Load her onto the cart with the thief and get her something else to wear. She won't be needing these where she's going." The soldier's began to pull her away and she began to struggle and panic.
"Where…!" She started to ask before he cut her off.
"You're going to Cyrodiil. The Borders are being monitored by the Empire due to the civil war; no one leaves without the Imperial Permission."
"I wasn't trying to leave!" She yelled to him. She continued struggling as they pulled her away. She would scream if it were not for her hoarse voice. Her legs and arms flailed about as they battled with her. "Please!" She said to the soldiers who held their grip on her arms. Panicking, she didn't know what to do. She continued struggling, but their grip would not relent. Finally, she did something she vowed she would never do seeing she was half Bosmer with their terrible reputation for cannibalism. She turned to one of the soldiers and sunk her teeth into his arm. He howled as he jerked his arm away and she was able to loosen her grip from the other soldier. He reached for her again and she backed up out of his reach. She stood and turned to see the commander looming over her. He grabbed her head and banged it against a nearby tree. She fell to the ground on her stomach. Her head throbbed in pain and it was all she could feel just before everything went black.
It was colder than Ulfric had expected it to be on their journey to the Pale Pass. As they continued their ascent up to the mountainous border, the snow began to fall. This was far better than the tundras and autumn forests of the Rift they had already traveled through. He loved the cold; of course he did he was a Nord after all. Any Nord who didn't like the cold was a milk drinker.
He gazed up at the cloudy night sky, wishing he could see the beautiful auroras the decorated Skyrim's skies at night. At least he would get to remember the feel of the snow on his skin one last time before his journey's end in Cyrodiil. Or at least that is where he assumed they were taking him and his men. March him right up to Mede's doorstep for him to be executed for all to see. They would make an example of him, of what happens when you rebel against the Empire and Aldmeri Dominion. He had somehow, always known this day would come, but he never prepared himself for it.
Ralof sat quietly across from him. He was a good soldier. Ralof was always one of the first to volunteer. The poor sap loved Ulfric, he looked up to him and along with the other Stormcloaks thought he was truly meant to be Skyrim's High King. Ulfric had thought the same for a long time. That was years ago. The war has dragged on and more and more Nords die every day fighting it. The war needed a turning point, one he couldn't give. The Empire needed to be run from Skyrim but after all this time and all the deaths he was no closer to eradicating them as he was when he left Markarth twenty-five years ago.
Then the rumors started. The Imperials were traveling towards the Rift to gain a port and with Maven Black-Briar's influence and loyalty to the Empire, he saw it fit to intercept them. They headed out for the Rift, ready to intercept the Imperials only to be ambushed at Darkwater Crossing. They were outnumbered five to one; even General Tulius himself was in attendance. They never would have made it out alive. He called for his men to surrender and they all did so willingly, knowing what their fate would be otherwise. The Imperials tied them up, gagged Ulfric and loaded them on the carts. He had been chewing on the cloth stuffed into his mouth for nearly two days now. He was dreading the rest of the ride to Cyrodiil and the Imperial's would never risk removing his gag.
During his time with the Greybeards, Ulfric only learned one shout but it is the most useful he believed. Unrelenting Force has aided him more times than he cares to admit. It would only make sense for the Imperial's to gag him. The Thalmor were smart enough to do so as well, but he pushed those thoughts away just as they began to surface.
Ulfric continued to gaze up at the falling snow and lost himself in a meditative trance, something else he began doing at High Hrothgar. His soldiers were quiet and he was sure they were tired. They hadn't slept the entire journey. He wasn't sure if it was due to the fact they didn't trust the Imperials or because there was no way to sleep on these damnable carts. Even when the Imperial's made camp the previous night, they did not unload their prisoners. They could not even give them a good night's sleep before they lugged them off to meet their death.
Ulfric chuckled to himself at the thought of his last conversation with Galmar, who is probably having heart failure at the moment. The man was nearly relentless in his request to assist Ulfric and the other Stormcloaks to the interception. Ulfric had insisted Galmar take a different approach with another band of Stormcloaks. He only hoped Galmar's company was not also ambushed, but he has heard nothing giving that away from the Imperials on their trip thus far.
Ulfric is taken from his thoughts when the cart stops abruptly. He turned to look towards the gates at the border. General Tulius dismounted his horse as he spoke with the commander at the gates. As Tulius approached, two prisoners in rags were dragged from the gates over to their cart. The first prisoner appeared to be a Nord. He had dark hair and skin but Ulfric could not tell if his skin was naturally dark or if it was because of the obscene amount of dirt that covered this man. He was loaded onto the cart, shivering and cold in his thin rags. The Nord protested the entire time before he was threatened to shut up or else. Ulfric didn't care to know what the "else" was but he can't imagine the Imperial's would care how they treat a Nord that appears so lowly.
The second prisoner's face was hidden by long, wavy, and dark mahogany locks. It was obviously a woman telling from the small frame and the obvious endowments. She was unconscious, unlike the dirty man and was thrown onto the floor of the cart. When she landed on her back, her hair was moved away from her face. She was a Bosmer, or appeared rather close to one anyways. Her ears had a point to them but were not as straight as elven ears. Her nose rounded at the tip but was still rather small and was only slightly tilted up. She had defined lips, but they looked soft and currently pale and dry. Her skin was tan, but also covered in dirt at the moment. She had scratches up and down her arms with a few small cuts on her face as well. Her throat had horrible black and blue bruises around it. There was a large blood stain on her ragged trousers on the back of her left calf and he wondered if it was an old stain or if she was injured.
Ralof wasted no time questioning the conscious prisoner. "What did they capture you for?" Ralof asked the dirty Nord.
"I stole a horse to cross the border to Hammerfell." Ralof started boisterously laughing at the Nord man and Ulfric couldn't help but chuckle at Ralof's reaction.
"And how did that go for you?" Ralof said still laughing as the horse thief scowled at him.
"They shot an arrow at the horse." The thief grumbled and Ralof shook his head still chuckling.
"The border hasn't been open for years. Only those with the permission of the Imperial's can pass through and you thought you could take a stolen horse and just run right through the gates into Hammerfell – which that gate specifically is heavily guarded seeing as Hammerfell is one of the few places in Tamriel that has defeated the Aldmeri Dominion and successfully receded from the Empire." Ralof started laughing again. "You must be really brave horse thief or rather very stupid." The thief continued to grumble to himself as Ralof still chuckled.
Ralof looked at the Bosmer female laying at the bottom of the cart, still unconscious. "What of her?" The thief shrugged his shoulders.
"She's been out since they carted us over here. I think they said she was trying to cross the border at the same gates, but I never saw her until they loaded her in with me." The thief still grumbled as he spoke but answered Ralof's question nonetheless. Ralof nodded in acknowledgment and then turned his attention to Ulfric.
"Why do you think we're still stopped?" Ralof asked, directing his question to Ulfric even though he was gagged. Ulfric just shrugged his shoulders and turned his head towards the gates where Tulius stood speaking with the commander, his thumb and fingers were focused on his temples and the small man looked even older than what he already was. Tulius took the parchment from the commander and then mounted his horse, turning away from the gates and walking back down the path into Skyrim.
"Where are we headed General?" Their cart driver asked.
"There was an avalanche this morning blocking the Pale Pass, looks like the prisoners won't be going to Cyrodiil after all." Tulius said dodging the question then continuing on down the path as the cart drivers began maneuvering the carts around.
The ride was rather rough on the way down the mountain and the Bosmer rolled around on the floor in her unconscious state. Ulfric observed her for a moment as her head rolled back and forth with the carts movements. They hit a rock and the cart jolted up. A whimper escaped her soft lips and he noticed the wound on her calf was bleeding again. A few moments later she began to shake despite the sweat she was covered in. Ulfric concluded her wound may be infected then felt hopeless for her. She will probably be dead before the infection even worsens.
They hit a bump in the road again and she groaned in pain this time. Ulfric looked to Ralof who was also looking at the Bosmer with a helpless expression on his face. Ralof met Ulfric's eyes and then glanced back down at the Bosmer. "Maybe we should sit her up next you." He said nodding at the empty space on the cart beside Ulfric. He nodded and reached for her with his bound hands. Ralof helped and they were able to get a good enough grip on her arms to hoist her up into a sitting position. Her head hung on her shoulders and moved back and forth with the cart. Her long unruly hair curtained her face from him and he raised his hands to move the hair behind her ear. Ulfric nodded and grunted towards the wound on her leg. Ralof looked at her calf and his eyes widened in recognition of what Ulfric wanted him to do. He reached down gently grasping her ankle and brought it up to rest on his knee. He pulled back the rags that could barely pass for clothes and they both winced at the exposed wound.
It did not look infected yet but it was swollen and bruised. Ulfric knew it was an arrow wound and he figured that's how they caught her. At least they had the decency to take the damn thing out. "Looks like the work of a steel arrow all right. You think she'll be okay?" Ralof asked and Ulfric gave him a deadpan stare. Ralof took a second before it hit him then nodded solemnly. She moaned again as Ralof positioned her ankle better. "Hey…" He tried speaking to her to bring her back to consciousness. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and Ulfric was shocked to see she had human eyes, well more human than any Bosmer he'd seen. They were an amazing shade of bright golden yellow and they were glazed over from her sleepy state. Though the color of her irises was inhuman the whites around them showed she must be of mixed race. He was drawn to them in those quick seconds they were open before she hung her head again going unconscious, her hair falling in front of her face once more. Ulfric moved her hair back again and sighed when she didn't awaken again. Ralof shrugged his shoulders but kept her leg up to help the bleeding.
Ulfric turned his attention back to the sky as he had done so before. The clouds were still covering the sky, but they were showing signs of the sun peeking behind them as morning approached. Ulfric took a deep breath before sighing to himself and praying to Talos that it will all end quickly.
The Dragon is with me again. He's roaring above me, shouting to the heavens. Fire and debris fall all around me and everything is burning. I run from the dragon again but he always finds me, burning away the shadows hiding me. I want to scream at him for tormenting me for so long, but I cannot find my voice.
I reach the part where I fall through the void, but it does not come. The burning just continues and the flames mark every area around me. The dragon circles above me but he is silent, only the roars of his flaming bones can be heard.
He lands in front of me, blocking me from running again. I want to scream but I know it will do no good, for my voice is lost in my dreams. He stands to his full height and the flames are so hot I can feel them burning me. He opens his mouth to shout to the heavens and I cover my ears. He turns back towards me, his yellow eyes flaming. I become angry with the dragon. Will he never leave me alone? He speaks that unfamiliar language again but this time I understand him. I do not remember the words for what happens next distracts me. I stand before him and take a deep breath to shout at him. As the words leave my mouth a force is thrown from me into the dragon and he stumbles back, causing the ground to shake beneath him. It is from the impact of my shout the Dragon turns to the man. I am in shock and awe at seeing the man that once graced my dreams as a child. He looks more striking than I remember.
He speaks to me again, but I am too mesmerized by his eyes. I am drawn towards him and it feels like I'm floating. I am in front of him, my head reaching his chin and he looks down at me… and smiles. He smiles! He's whispering now, still using that language I never understood until this moment. I stare at his yellow flaming eyes and he softly smiles once more. I smile back at him and he takes his hand, brushing the hair from my face to behind my ear as he speaks the only words I remember. "Tinvaak Lokaaiil ahrk Elskahii Saviik." He said to me in the softest of tones. "Tinvaak fah Keizaal…"
Her sense of hearing was the first to come back to her. She could hear the birds in the trees, the wooden cart moving over the cobblestone road and the horses that pulled them. The wind swooshed through her hair and she could soon feel it on her skin, the chill causing her to tremble slightly. She could smell the pines of Falkreath, but the scents of the cold mountain air drifted with them.
She finally and slowly opened her eyes, blinking a few times as her consciousness hit her in full swing. Her hands were bound with thick strips of leather. She was no longer wearing her comfy furs or hide boots. She did not feel the security of her bow and quiver strapped across her chest and even her hair was no longer braided as it blew in the soft winds. She coughed at the uncomfortable feeling in her throat, wincing at the action afterwards. The cough caught the attention of the blonde Nord sitting across from her. He was dressed in Windhelm colors, which means she could only assume he was a Stormcloak. The first thing she noticed about him, however, was her injured leg was outstretched with her ankle resting on his knee. The sharp, cramping pain she was slowly remembering from before was now a dull throb. She winced as she moved her leg, gently placing her foot alongside her other on the floor of the cart.
"Hey you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." He said nodding towards the dirty man in rags sitting next to him.
"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." The dirty Nord's voice sounded panicked. "You there," He said facing Asmara, "you and me – we shouldn't be here. It's the Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
Asmara ran through the events that led her there, trying to recall what happened before she was unconscious. When she remembered the scowling Imperial Commander slamming her against a tree she winced, reaching up to feel the back of her head where a large lump presided. She then remembered why her throat hurt so badly and reflexively reached up only to pull her hand away from the bruising pain on her neck and collar bone.
She came to the conclusion the thief was not completely correct in his assumption. He was a thief while she was just an observer in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Stormcloaks have nothing to do with her capture. She looked to the cart in front of them with four additional Stormcloak soldiers – and then including the one sitting across from her – she deducted they may have something to do with her current destination; which she had no idea as to where that actually is.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." Ralof said with a finality to his tone. She knew he was right, it did not matter how they all got to be on that cart… their journeys will all end the same.
The Imperial Soldier driving the cart yelled back to them for them to shut up, but that had no effect on the two Nords across from her. "What's wrong with him?" The dirty Nord nodded towards the man beside her. She had not yet noticed him. This man was different from the other passengers. He wore a fine bear cloak and his clothes told of nobility. His shoulder length dark blonde hair had a braid on the front side. But what caught her attention was the gag covering his mouth. He was the only passenger on both carts who was gagged which called to her heightened curiosity.
"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King." Asmara's eyes widened in recognition to his name. She had never seen the Jarl herself. This was the man who started the rebellion against the Empire? He seemed like the typical Nord if it weren't for the fancy clothes.
"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?"
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." Ralof said solemnly. Asmara pondered his statement curious as to where she would arrive after death. She worshiped the nine, but only Nords went to Sovngarde. She was half Bosmer and her mother never spoke of her father. She knows he was not any sort of Mer, her eyes are that of a human's except for their unnatural hue. She would be happy in her death with Bosmer traditions. She hoped maybe one day she would become a part of nature as it intends it; she's spent her whole life living with and around nature instead of holed up in a hold city, never straying from the path.
"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." The thief started to panic and it made Asmara feel just as uneasy. She swallowed the lump in her throat, wincing from the pain. She would get through this; at least she knows it will be over soon.
"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" The Stormcloak spoke in a comforting tone.
"Why do you care?" The thief spat.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." The solder said, ignoring the contempt in the thief's voice.
"Rorikstead. I'm… I'm from Rorikstead." The thief said in a defeated voice.
There was an eerie silence in the cart for a few moments, each prisoner surely thinking on Ralof's words of home. All Asmara pictured was autumn trees and smells of honeysuckles in the Rift.
"General Tulius, sir. The headsman is waiting." The voice pulled the passengers from their thoughts. Asmara turned to look in front of the cart to see the gates of Helgen opening for them. She'd frequented the town often enough just passing through. She had even stayed at the inn once.
"Good. Let's get this over with!" General Tulius replied. Another name she had never seen a face to. He was a small Imperial man with gray balding hair. He had a Cyrodiil tan and was dressed in his Imperial General armor looked far more intimidating than that of the commander who had captured her at the border.
She looked to the thief who was praying to a selection of the nine. Asmara sent a quick prayer to Akatosh, remembering the amulet her mother gave her is now gone forever. But that was the least of her worries.
"Look at him. General Tulius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this." Ralof said as they were pulled through the gates, the wooden doors closing behind them. She ignored his statement about elves, but only because she too was nearly glaring at the Thalmor, but she had her own reasons.
They continued through the small town and into a clearing as Ralof went on about his experiences in Helgen. Asmara spotted a few familiar faces among the onlookers, and she turned her face away hoping no one saw the same familiarity in her face. Surely she looked terrible as well, covered in blood and bruises. Maybe they would not recognize her at all.
"Why are we stopping?" The thief asked, dragging Asmara away from her thoughts. She looked to the cart ahead of them, which was already parked with the Stormcloak soldiers unloading out the back.
"Why do you think? End of the line." Ralof replied and Asmara felt her anxiety rise. Ralof turned to her and threw her a smile she would have found quite charming in any other situation. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us." Asmara went to stand, but she stumbled when she put pressure on her left leg. Ralof helped as best he could to stable her with his tied hands. She limped off the cart and he continued to guide her as she hopped down from the carriage. The thief continued to protest as they were unloaded and Asmara wished he would stop so she could compose herself.
A female Imperial captain and soldier appeared before them, the soldier carrying a quill and parchment.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." The soldier called out. Ralof grumbled something about the Empire and "their lists" before speaking to Ulfric as he walked to her left towards – what she just now noticed – the chopping block.
"It's been an honor, Jarl Ulfric." Ralof said with his voice once again solemn.
"Ralof of Riverwood." The blonde friendly Nord walked to her left to follow Ulfric. She had a name to the face now, and she decided the named seem fitting.
"Lokir of Rorikstead." The thief stepped towards the Imperials begging for his life before he took off running. Asmara gasped at his brazened cowardice, yelling back to the Imperial's as he ran. Asmara then noted the archers standing next to the guard tower in front of them. He ran up towards the gates, hands still bound but he barely made it up the hill before the archers were instructed to take him down. He was shot in the back with three arrows and she was thankful at least he died quickly.
"Anyone else feel like running!?" The imperial captain shouted. The silence following was deafening. The Imperial soldier – who she now realized was a Nord – pointed to her while he beckoned her closer. She limped towards him slowly, wincing when she stopped.
"Who are you?" He asked while looking at his list. She hesitated, shifting her eyes between the foul looking captain and the soldier, who looked up at her, waiting for an answer. She cleared her throat before speaking, but it did not help make her sound any more confident.
"Asmara." Her hoarse voice sounded with a struggling tone. The soldier tilted his head, straining to hear her. She tried to speak her name louder a second time, but if anything it sounded worse.
"Asmara…" He prompted. She shook her head and cleared her throat again before replying.
"Just Asmara." The soldier nodded then scanned his list for a moment.
"Not many wood elves would choose to come alone to Skyrim." He spoke to her still scanning his list. Asmara meant to protest against his statement but then he leaned in towards his commander before speaking softly, just loud enough for Asmara to hear.
"Captain. What should we do? She's not on the list." Asmara nearly scoffed at the statement. Of course, she's not, she did nothing wrong. She was manhandled and knocked unconscious for Gods know how long. They never had a chance to squeeze a name from her.
"Forget the list. She goes to the block." The captain said harshly and Asmara nearly flinched at her words.
"By your order Captain." The Imperial soldier turned towards Asmara and she thought she saw a hint of sorrow in his eyes. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Valenwood." He said to her. She honestly could care less where her body ended up at the moment. "Follow the Captain prisoner."
Asmara's shoulders dropped as she followed the captain to join the group of Stormcloak Soldiers who were all awaiting their death, staring down at the currently clean chopping block. The headsman stood ready with the largest bloody ax she'd ever seen. She gulped the lump down her throat, wincing the entire time.
General Tulius approached Ulfric who was standing in front and to the left of her. She could only see his profile once again and saw he had a braid on that side of his head as well.
"Ulfric Stormcloak. 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. You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace." The moment he finished his little speech a load and hauntingly familiar sound echoed through the mountains. Everyone quieted, looking to see where the sound came from.
"What was that?" The Imperial Soldier with the list asked.
Tulius brushed off his nerves and continued. "It's nothing. Carry on."
Asmara looked to the priestess she recognized as the priestess of Arkay in Helgen. Falkreath Hold seemed to have quite a few of those around. Before the priestess could finish her first sentence a red headed Stormcloak approached the block, sounding eager to meet his death. He stood in front of the block before the captain shoved him to his knees, and then used her foot to push his head down onto the block. Asmara stared at the ground in front of her, not bearing to watch the scene unfolding in front of her. Asmara heard his last words just before the sound of the axe thudding into the wood. She took a deep breath to hold back her disgust at the sounds of his decapitation. She wanted to gag when she turned to see the captain guided a headless body to the side of the block with her foot. The citizens of Helgen shouted various expletives but all the words passed by her as she stared at the headless body on the ground.
"Next the wood elf!" Asmara's eyes quickly shifted to the captain and she once again swallowed the lump in her throat.
Then they were once again interrupted by the haunting sound. The sound was now recognizably a roar and it was much closer this time. She looked to the skies and she nearly cried out when the realization dawned on her. It was the same sound she heard echoed in her dreams of late. The same sound she heard in her dream when everything burned around her. That was the roar of a dragon. Asmara's eyes bulged out in fear and she looked to her right to see Ralof observing her panic attack.
"There it is again. Did you hear that?" The soldier with the list asked once again. The captain ignored him as she ground out her command.
"I said, next prisoner." He sighed and dropped his head before looking to Asmara, the sorrow flickering in his eyes once again.
"To the block prisoner. Nice and Easy." She didn't want to willingly walk to her death, but she surely wouldn't run like the thief and if it truly was a dragon she heard, she would rather die quickly than burn to death. She slowly limped over to the block and winced every step of the way. She turned and looked down at the headless corpse, then to the head lying in the wooden box. She gagged again but forced it down as she was shoved to her knees. She gasped in pain as her leg screamed at her. The captain shoved her head down onto the block and she gritted her teeth as the still warm blood from the Stormcloak coated her cheek. Her breath was steady as she gazed up at the executioner. She decided she didn't want to see her own death coming so she stared ahead at his knees, concentrating on tower behind him. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and she said one last prayer to Akatosh.
She was so lost in her own execution, she almost didn't hear the strong roar above her and the wind from strong black wings fanning her face.
"What in Oblivion is that!?" She heard Tulius yell as the ground shook beneath her. The headsman tumbled forward, his ax forgotten. She gazed up at the tower in front of her and she was silent as she stared at the red eyes looking straight at her. The black dragon reared its head back and shouted. She heard the unfamiliar words again before the thunderous clap. The clouds turned to dark shades of gray as they swirled around the sky. Flaming debris began to fall from the sky in loud crashes around her. The dragon let out a second thunderous shout, knocking her away from the headsman's block.
Her vision blurred and the ringing in her ears was relentless. She only felt the thuds of debris hitting the ground around her as she tried to gain her composure. Her hands were still bound and her leg was in agony. She felt helpless until she felt a pair of strong hands and arms wrap around her. She was hauled to her feet and she looked up to see Ralof was halfway carrying her into a tower to take cover. He dragged her through the door and she fell to the floor, her vision and hearing slowly coming back. She heard Ralof's muted voice through the chaos and turned around to see him standing at the door, speaking with Ulfric, who now had his hands unbound and the gag removed from his mouth. Asmara's hearing cleared and she caught the end of Ralof's panicked statement.
"…Could the Legends be true?" He asked his voice becoming clear. She turned her head towards the Jarl as he answered with a deep and sure voice.
"Legends, don't burn down villages."
A/N: So first part of the rewrite. Please review and let me know what you think. This new version isn't really edited by anyone but myself and spellcheck so please feel free to mention errors and such. Also any beta readers who would like to volunteer message me, I know I've had some respond in the past but it's been too long for me to contact them back honestly.
For those of you wanting to pick my brain the song that caused inspiration for Asmara's dream sequence was the "Twilight Overture" by Carter Burwell. It almost perfectly matches up with a decent reading speed too lol.
Thanks again everyone! Review and Fave!