I woke up to a bright light, and somebody saying, "Hey you, you're finally awake." Slowly opening my eyes, I waited for the white spots to fade from my vision before finding out just where I was. Blinking slowly, my surroundings finally came into view and it only served to confuse me more. I was in the back of a horse drawn carriage, with a few others beside me. They looked ragged and worn, but what I noticed next was more pressing, and sent a tingle of fear down my spine. They were all bound at the wrist. As it turned out, so was I.
Looking down, I noticed that not only were my hands bound, but the gear and clothes I had were stripped away and in their place were roughspun clothes. Meant for prisoners, the cloth chafed my skin and if it stayed on, was sure to make me bleed.
The tunic was a light brown, bordering on tan and if I were able to stand up it would have reached just before my knees. It was tied around me, resting on the top of my hips with a long coil of rope. It wrapped around me twice before settling in the front with a loosely tied knot.
I briefly allowed my mind to wonder that if I wasn't wearing what I had been before, somebody must've disrobed me. I didn't like that and slammed the door closed on that thought before it could manifest anymore than it already had. So I instead turned to the rest of my attire, or lack thereof. The pants were made of the same material and instead of giving me shoes, they took the extra material from the pants and turned it into footwraps. The pants had the added benefit of hurting even more, for what she felt, were obvious reasons. That being the chafing of her-- "You were caught trying to cross the border right?" My thoughts were interrupted by the man in front of me, whose name I did not know.
I surveyed him, trying to ascertain what he was expecting to get out of a conversation here. He was relatively large, and had bright blond hair, falling to his shoulders. His eyes were blue, and I felt like I was staring into water. Pulling my attention away from his somewhat transfixing gaze, and figuring he was just trying to ease the unknowns of our situation, I answered. "Yea. Bad luck running into you I guess." He let out a low laugh, before continuing. "Well no use lamenting it now eh, Wood Elf?" Instead of answering immediately, I paused for a minute and took this time to watch the wind sway through the tall trees, knocking bits of snow all around. Despite the situation, I found it in me to smile, something the people around me took note of.
"Why are you smiling? We're on our way to Oblivion knows where, and you're smiling?!?" The question this time came not from in front of me, but across from me and a bit to my right. I studied him carefully before I gave an answer. He had brown hair, with a wiry frame and spindly arms. His face was a bit dirty, and he wore the same roughspun tunic as I. He looked a coward, and I pitied him. Cowards didn't live very long. Not in this world, anyways. Especially not in Skyrim. From what I'd heard during my time in Cyrodiil, Nords that were not battle worthy were the lowest of the low.
I stopped critiquing him for now though, and turned to answer his justified question. "How can I smile you ask? The trees here remind me of home." I paused and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the flora and fauna around me. Pine trees, and some native wildflowers. We moved quickly, but I was still able to pick out some of my favorite flowers. Dragon's Tongue was the first I saw, and was definitively my favorite. The dichotomy of the flower was brilliant, splitting the four orange-gold leaves perfectly. Two branched out to either side, with one folding down in front to make the lower "jaw". The fourth was perpendicular to the two on the side, keeping them from folding back on themselves. Then you had the three light yellow petals matching perfectly with the orange-gold ones that made up the backdrop.
Two of the yellow petals were sideways, stretching just outside of the orange-golds. They also curved slightly inwards, giving the impression of the flower having wings. The final yellow flower went straight up, before curving to a stop, slightly looking down at the last really important piece of this beautiful puzzle. With the final yellow flower looking down and looking like the head of a dragon, a small purple flower jutted straight out of the middle curving around the edges so that the underside was hidden from normal view. Fittingly, the end of the flower was split in half, marking the tongue, and where the flower got its namesake. I also saw Lavender and some Tundra Cotton and I smiled wide. It was a little slice of home. If I survived whatever this was going to be, I knew I was going to like Skyrim.
"Not knowing where our destination is, I'll take the small blessing where I can get them." I didn't miss the half smile that appeared on the Nord who had first spoken to me's face. "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 brown haired Nord then turned to me, as if saying the words he was about to say next aloud would save us. They would not. "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
The man next to him just shook his head, and spoke. "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The mood soured even more then. "Shut up back there!" the imperial guard shouted over his shoulder, refusing to pay us any more attention than we were already getting. If I were an egotistical woman, I might love the attention currently being sent my way. I am very much not.
The constant stares and jeers put me off, and I found myself sinking into my chair to escape. It was unlike anything I had experienced before. I was used to warm faces, people who loved me and wanted nothing but the best to come my way. The whole ordeal made me miss Valenwood even more.
The man next to the one who had first spoken to me asked a question and it being one I kinda wanted the answer to, I leaned in and listened for the response. "And what's wrong with him, huh?" He nodded his head towards the man next to me as he did. He was certainly dressed much differently than the rest of us.
He wore a big fur coat of black and gray, and had very dirty blond hair, bordering on brown. What more made me curious however, was the cloth around his mouth, preventing him from speaking along with his hands being bound. it would've been a sight to see, had we been in a different scenario.
"Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King" he snapped, catching both me and the brown haired nord who had asked aback. Realization seemed to dawn on his face then, and I felt my blood go cold from what was uttered next. "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 very much wanted to know the answer to that question.
And then I didn't. "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." I didn't know much about what the Nords believed to be Sovngarde, but I knew enough to know how you got there. Some questions are better off just not being asked or answered. Now resigned to my inevitable execution, I finally took stock of the attire that the man who had first spoken to me had on.
Upon seeing it, I scowled. how come me and the coward were the only two people stripped of previous attire? Like honestly, I was a lady. I did have some sense of modesty, even if it wasn't very defined. I stopped thinking about it and took him in again. He wore a dark blue tunic that ended at his hips. The tunic had a dark brown leather strap running across it diagonally, from right shoulder to left hip. His outfit was finished with a pair of fur gloves and boots, both a dark brown in color. My observations were cut short however, by our sudden arrival into town.
"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" The imperial guard shouted from the driver's seat, to someone I couldn't see off to my right. The man, Tullius, grunted in acknowledgement and said, "Good. Let's get this over with." And with that, we pulled to a stop. The dark haired, roughspun tunic wearing Nord started mumbling to himself then. Perhaps he was praying to whatever deities he held belief in, that this was all going to be just a bad dream.
It wasn't. There was no chance of waking up from this. Of being at home in bed awaking from some cruel nightmare. Instead we were surrounded by reality on all sides, threatening to close in on us in our last few moments of life and ending us with a whimper, instead of the bang everybody deserves to go out with. The man in front of me spoke up again, this time to the brown haired Nord on his left. "Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" The Nord tilted his head towards him and asked, "Why do you care?" The man in blue smiled then, and shook his head slightly from side to side. "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."
His prisoner in arms didn't seem happy about being in the position for last thoughts, but spoke up nonetheless. "Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead." I was starting to get really annoyed with the fact that I didn't know any of my fellow prisoners names, save Ulfric. I figured I'd learn them soon enough, but still. It was getting on my nerves. So when the man in front of me spoke again, I bit back a sigh of indignation, and let him speak. "Look at him, General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves."
General Tullius looked anything but imposing. He was a tanned Imperial, with graying hair and noticeable age lines. If I had to guess, he was probably around 50. A baby by my standards, but getting up in his years by man's. He wore a gilded imperial vest, befit for a General. It had a golden dragon in the center of his chest, with two curved angel wings directly below. Along with two pawniards on either shoulder. It was finished off by a belt with a sabercat's head, engraved in the middle.I didn't like him at all, but it was mitigated by what Ralof had just said, and I scowled.
I felt a twinge of annoyance at the blatant lumping together of all elf kind. We just wanted to be left alone. I had been given more than enough reasons over my lifetime to harbour hatred for the Thalmor, and above them, The Aldmeri Dominion. He kept speaking though, and I found myself biting my cheek yet again. "I bet they had something to do with this. This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."
We started being ushered off the wagon then, and whatever else he wanted to say was cut short by him being unceremoniously dragged out of the cart and onto his feet. The treatment was the same for the rest of us, though I thought I detected a twinge of sympathy from one of the guards. He likely knew on some level I had nothing to do with this "rebellion" I had never heard of before today. It didn't stop him from dragging my ass out of the cart though.
Thoroughly disgruntled by the events that had just taken place, my slight anger was nullified by the keep we had found ourselves in. It was beautiful, in its own way. The cobblestone towers rose up from the ground in a magnificent display, and i could see why most their structures utilized it. Valenwood had none of that. For the most part it was just tiny villages scattered around the woods here and there. many were mainly centered on the coastline, overlooking the Abecean Sea.
I was pulled back from my thoughts by an Imperial. Her voice was harsh and gravelly, and she told us to step towards the block when our name was called. Well at least that would be solved. Still, didn't really do much good to learn their names if my head was gonna roll twenty seconds later. I would've pinched the bridge of my nose had i been able to, irritated by the days events. I had been in plenty of scrapes on my way towards Skyrim, but I never had to worry about being executed.
For all my wit, I had a hard time believing I was making it out of this one alive. A second Imperial appeared, and started calling of names from the list in front of him. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm. Ralof of Riverwood. Lokir of Rorikstead." Finally I had names for these people. Ralof headed towards the block, but not before saying something I thought interesting. "It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" With that, he walked over to the block, and awaited his soon to be execution.
Lokir was less inclined. The brown haired Nord was arguing with the listman. He was saying something about not being rebels, and the oh so classic, "you can't do this." I was about to tell him to give it up when he took off, and my heart sank in my chest. No way was he going to outlive Imperial archers. While nowhere near as good as me, I had heard stories of their skills, and even saw them in action a few times. What they made up for in not being Elves, was numbers. Each was great in their own right(By human standards anyways) and I knew of many a person felled by them.
As soon as the Imperial captain called for the archers, I sighed. He didn't make it ten steps. He fell to the ground lifeless, as six arrows stuck out of him from different angles. "You didn't have to kill him," I said quietly, before I stepped up to face the listman. The look on his face made me want to laugh. His eyes widened slightly, and both he and the captain exchanged glances. It looked like both were unaware there was going to be an extra prisoner. The captain turned to her compatriot with a scowl and spoke. "Hadvar. What the hell is this?"
The listman Hadvar, seemed just as perplexed as she was and didn't look like he knew what he wanted to do with me. so he settled for his training. He pulled his list back in front of him once again, and asked me my name. "Who are you?" I debated over answering, but I figured that I had nothing to lose amd saying nothing likely involved things not going my way at all. So I straightened my shoulders, arched my back and spoke. "Ash Igna Rai, at your service" I said, flourishing a little and dipping into a low bow. It would've looked better, had my hands been untied but I'd take what I could get.
"Not many wood elves would choose to come alone to Skyrim." said Hadvar, and I felt a twinge of annoyance. "Nor would they choose to be beheaded for simply crossing the border" I said, going to cross my arms before I remembered, oh wait,THEY WERE BOUND. I was really starting to get annoyed. He chuckled, and i felt a bit of my annoyance pass. He seemed a sensible guy, which sucked because he could and probably was sympathizing with me, but he still had a job to do. So regarding that, he turned back to his commanding officer.
The look on her face said it all, and I knew what her answer was going to be before the words left either of their mouths. "Captain," he said. "What should we do? She's not on the list." She scoffed once and started walking towards the block. "Forget the list. She goes to the block." Damn. "Son of a bitch" I muttered, shaking my head as I made to follow her. I was stopped by Hadvar however, and the next thing he said made it really hard not to like him. "I'll make sure you're remains are transported back to Valenwood.
While not comforting at all, it was still nice to see him go the extra mile for someone he didn't know, even if that someone was soon to be dead. And without a head. Ugh today was starting to give me a headache. For an execution block, it was pretty dull, amd my guess was that it was uncommon for executions to be held here and I smiled. Well here's to hoping the blade was sharp enough to go all the way through in one go. I did not want to be that guy with half a head on and an extra swing needed.
The execution block was maybe 15 feet across, and ten feet wide. It was set up to the left of the main road when you came down through the town. There was a half moon circle on the ground, that I guess we were expected to put our heads in. Ugh, this sucked. Really didn't think this was how my day was gonna go when I woke up this morning. But then I found myself on a carriage, to an unknown destination. I ignored my frustration, instead tuning back in just in time to laugh out loud. It was not appreciated. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved..." She was shut down rather quickly and the person who cut her off was my reason for laughing.
"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with." With that, the red haired Nord waltzed right over to the block. The priestess bristled and scowled, but relented. "As you wish." Then he was forced to his knees, head placed into the makeshift stock as Tullius made to stand over him. "Come on, I haven't got all morning. My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" He tilted his head as he spoke, making sure he made eye contact. he smiled at him and you could see the tick marks slowly appear on his face. I laughed again, not caring to silence it in favor of pissing of the general even more. It would surely make me next, but I would worry about that when it came.
"Well spoken Nord!" I shouted, snapping my arms out to my sides, before I remembered my bindings. I locked eyes with the name of the man I would never know, and set in stone a decree. "I name you now, Dorāhwyn! May you live forever in Sovngarde!" He looked confused for a second not knowing the nature of the word or its meaning, but eventually settled into an easy smile. It was something only prisoners were able to do. Unable to see race, creed or color and instead seeing only brothers and sisters in arms, oppressed by everyone but their fellow prisoners. He spoke one last time, and his response made me smile. "I take the title gladly Wood Elf, and may Valenwood sing praise of you're adventures forever!" He had no idea how right his decree then was going to be, and neither did I.
Then the axe fell, and his head landed in the box in front of him, never speaking or blinking again. The imperial captain looked me dead in the eyes, and damn it all if I wasn't always right. While others were shouting slurs and curses at the legion, and who was now my favorite chick here yelled out "You Imperial bastards!" The captain called me. "Next, the Wood Elf!" I swore I was gonna take her steel armament and smack her over the head with it till she stopped moving. The bitch knew my name, and couldn't even say it. "I guess Imperial customs have gone out the window in the last 100 years..." I muttered, slowly making my way over to the block. One of the rebellion laughed, and pray my soul it was the female who had shouted what I thought funny.
If we both made it out of this alive, I swore then and there that she would be my first conquest made in Skyrim. I was forced to my knees then, finally able to stare down at the block, amd really get a good look at it. it really was just a half circle block of wood, propped up by a few cobblestone blocks on either side. The wood was cracked and battered throughout, like it had been used many a time. Odd then, that the ground didn't reek of death. Maybe this simple block of wood was just picked up and moved at the whim of the legion, creating impromptu execution stands wherever they deemed necessary or fit. They touted about justice and order, but all it made me do was think of the Thalmor.
No matter which side you fell on, they were both the same. People just didn't want to believe it. I already hated the Thalmor and The Aldmeri Dominion. Today was enough to make me hate both. While the Thalmor were openly hated for crimes against Tamriel, the Empire was guilty of far more subtle cruelties. They wanted to spout and slander The Aldmeri Dominion and all the wrong they had done, when they were guilty of just as many injustices as this one. In my case, execution for things falsely accused of, in others, imprisonment without trial. Not to mention their deep seeded racism of any non human, and even within humanity, there was a tier list. Imperials, by simple right, were purportedly the best, with the Nords being the only other sect anywhere close to the same plane as them.
Then you had the Breton's and Redguards. Breton's being below both Imperials and Nords for one reason. Their affinity for magic. Both imperials and Nords alike had long seeded hatred and fear for the Elf races and by extension anyone who utilized magic. One notable exception to this rule was The Imperial battlemages of Battlespire, who trained from an early age to become proficient weapons of magical prowess. They too though, were looked down on by the basic populace, though never outwardly expressed or shown. It was spoken about in whispers and hurried words, always casting a look over your shoulder for fear you might be overheard. If you were overheard by a member of the Legion it was a death sentence. they would haul you off with no explanation to somewhere no one would find you.
Their view on Elves was far worse than simple disappearances. While it was much more common for Elves of every type to be found near the capitol in Cyrodil, it did not mean we were liked. While those few in the Legion were given a pass because they chose to fight for the Empire, the average Elven citizen of Cyrodiil was judged harshly. This was especially true in Skyrim. I had never been to most of Tamriel's other provinces, such as Hammerfell but what I knew of them was not good. Aside from Black Marsh and Morrowind, the rest of Tamriel's provinces spurned us and had at some point used us as slaves. That was not to say that the Dunmer liked us however. My people were widely regarded as lesser beings, and only slightly above that of the Khajiit and Argonians.
I had been privy to such abuse and ridicule my entire life. I watched helpless, as the Aldmeri Dominion performed a coup d'état, murdering our monarch and wrenching Valenwood away from us. The Altmer claimed it was for our safety and protection from a failing empire, but I had already seen them for what there were. I had watched as they had-- my thoughts were interrupted by an ungodly scream, one that shook me to my core and everyone around. "What was that?" Hadvar asked, head tilting up and eyes dragging across the sky, seemingly in search of something. Tullius looked generally annoyed, and clicked his tongue twice before speaking. "It's nothing you need to concern yourself with. Remember, he scolded, you have a task to complete."
Despite myself, I couldn't help but loathe Tullius even more. Maybe it was my pity towards Hadvar, who in my eyes had earned it with that simple sentence of willingness to return my body to Valenwood. The roar sounded again, and everyone stopped again and listened. Hadvar looked uneasy and despite knowing not to, he asked again. "There it is again. Did you hear that?" Tullius ignored him, and my executioner picked up his axe. I closed my eyes, and uttered one last prayer. "Y'ffre guide me..." I whispered, silently praying for my goddess's protection. The axe fell towards my head, and I closed my eyes, relinquishing my life to Y'ffre. Except that didn't happen. Instead the world exploded and all hell broke loose.