Redemption of The Sellsword

by ShadeXRoses

After coming home to Skyrim after a funeral he caused, Dante gets caught in an Imperial ambush. He learns of the Dragons return when he is escaping his own execution, and slowly uncovers that the best and craziest is yet to come. Although, how can you avoid that life, when you're a Dragonborn? Rated M for violence and swearing.

Redemption Of the Sellsword

Chapter 1:Prisoner

The sound of steady clicks of horse hooves against dirt and stone pounded in my head. a tightness unfamiliar to me constricted my wrists. I didn't think my bracers were on this tightly. Actually, these didn't feel like my bracers, it felt more like… Rope? I slowly began to open my eyes, the blinding sun stinging my pupils through the thick tree brush. "Uggghhh…" I groaned loudly. My head was throbbing like a thousand church bells going off all at once. I lowered my head to avoid the bright rays of the sun. Upon looking down, I saw my wrists bound together by fisherman's rope. "Shit…" I grumbled. I didn't remember much, other than the blood and yelling that followed me slamming a dagger into a bandit's throat. I grinned, my own gruesome acts of violence had finally caught up with me. I realized this when I saw that I was wearing prisoner's rags. The tattered brown cloth of my clothing could be compared to a potato sack. I chuckled at this. So many sins i've committed, and prison is how I'm going to die. Rotting in a cell. I always thought I'd go mad and slit my own throat. "Hey you." A very accented voice said. I looked up. A blonde haired, rugged Nord sat in front of me. My eyes opened in shock at his outfit. The cloth was blue over his stained vest. "A stormcloak." I thought to myself. "You're awake." He said. I simply chuckled. "How'd you get here stormcloak? Were you caught while…" I saw another stormcloak out the corner of my eye. His armor was puffier. I turned to get a full look at the poor bastard. My jaw almost dropped. "Jarl Ulfric?" I said softly.

He turned to look at me. His mouth was covered with some kind of cloth, making the most he can do grunt at me. Ulfric Stormcloak was the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion. He was the Jarl of Windhelm, one of the nine holds, and was leading the ongoing war against the Imperials. A man sat across from the Jarl, in similar rags to what I was wearing. "You were trying to cross the border right?" The nord across from me asked. "Just like us, and that thief over there." I turned to look at the other man in rags, and he looked up slowly at the Nord. "Damn you stormcloaks, Empire was nice and lazy before you came along. If it wasn't for you then I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." The thief then turned to me and sighed. "You there, you and me don't belong here. It's these stormcloaks the Empire wants." After I was sure he was done ranting, I shrugged. "I guess it was just wrong place, wrong time." He just ignored me and turned to Jarl Ulfric. "What's his problem huh?" The Nord got sore at that comment. "Watch your tongue! That's Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king!" The Thief's eyes got wide at that comment. "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" "Didn't I just say who he was?" I thought to myself. The thief continued on anyways. "You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you then… Oh gods, where are they taking us?" The Nord looked ready to say something, but I cut him off. "Probably to our deaths." I said optimistically. All of them shot me a dirty look. "What?" I asked shrugging. The driver of our carriage turned his head. "Shut up back there." I turned to face him. His leather armor was that of an imperials, the army from Cyrodiil. It actually surprised me that I hadn't taken the time to look around sooner. We were slowly approaching a small fort looking town. Complete with watchtowers and stone walls. I saw another horse carriage ahead of us. also carrying stormcloaks. Behind us was a horse with an Imperial riding it. Surrounding the us was lots of forest. A few deer ran away from the path as we approached. I decided to make some friends before i die. I turned to the nord in front of me and asked, "So, what's your name?" "I am Ralof." I nodded. Respectable Nord name. I held out my bound hands for a handshake. "I'm Dante." Ralof smiled, and shook my hand. "Nice to meet you Dante. So, you ever kill an imperial?" The carriage driver turned his head. I smiled. "Yeah, a few." I responded. The driver grunted and turned his attention back to the road. We were slowly entering the town. "Where are you from horse thief?" Ralof asked. "Why do you care?" The thief was stuttering in his words, obviously disturbed by the thought of dying. "A Nord's last thoughts, should be of home." The horse thief looked away and said, "Rorikstead. I'm-I'm from Rorikstead."

I sighed and decided I should contribute. "I'm a sellsword from Riften. I was out in Morrowind for a funeral." Ralof looked at me. "And that's when you were caught trying to cross?" I nodded. Put down at the hands of the imperials. I should find this ironic, as I was helping them for a while with smithing their weapons in Solitude. We slowly but steadily entered the town. "Look at him." Ralof said sternly. "General Tullius the military governor." I looked over to see a short bald man in heavy imperial armor. He was talking to high elves on horseback. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this." I was never a fan of the Thalmor. Mainly because they were condescending assholes who thought they could decide who we should worship. They actually banned the worship of Talos in most places controlled by the Imperials. Talos, also known as Tiber Septim, was the conqueror of all of Tamriel, and he single handedly began the third era. For this, he was considered a man god. His worship was banned by the white-gold concordat. A peace treaty signed between the Thalmor and the Mede Dynasty. I didn't know too much more than that, as I wasn't one for politics. We entered the town and continued along the path. We passed a few houses with people looking out. "Who are they daddy?" A child on a porch asked. "Get back inside little cub." The father said. "Why? I want to watch the soldiers." He said excitedly. "Get back inside, now." The father said sternly. "Yes papa." At that moment, we began to slow down. "Why are we stopping?" The horse thief asked. "Why do you think?" Ralof said, his head lowered. "End of the line…" We came to a halt, and someone shouted a command. We all stood up and began to get off the wagon. "We aren't rebels!" the thief shouted, desperate to save his own ass. "Face your death with some courage thief." Ralof said, obviously ready to die alongside his Jarl. "We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" He continued to yell. We were lined up in twos, an imperial captain and footsoldier stood in front of us. "Step towards the block one at a time." Ralof leaned over and whispered to me, "Empire loves their damned lists." The man in front of us cleared his throat, before looking down at the list. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." The Jarl grunted and walked off. "It has been a pleasure Jarl Ulfric." Ralof said as his hero walked away from him. "Ralof of Riverwood." Ralof walked off next, leaving just me and the horse thief. "Lokir of Rorikstead." The thief stepped forward. "We're not rebels, you can't do this!" He then ran past the two imperials, one yelling, "Halt! Archers!" Men in armor drew their bows. "You're not gonna kill me!" He yelled, right before an arrow pierced his heart, causing his body to drop like a bag of rocks. "Anyone else feel like running?" The captain yelled out. I smiled. "I could go for a quick jog." I said sarcastically. When in doubt, i'm a smartass. They both looked at me sternly, before the footsoldier returned to his list. "Wait a second…" He looked confused, before looking up at me. "Come here." He said warily. I stepped forward cautiously. "Who are you?" I sighed, guess now is as good a time as any. I looked down, a puddle was beneath me, and in it, I saw my reflection. My pale skin was almost as white as snow, with black as night hair flowing down beside it, complimented by my naturally red eyes. I had light black stubble across my chin, except for one thin slit, where a scar rested on my upper and lower lip. I was a decent size, five foot eleven. and I was decently muscular, yet very skinny. I never understood why I was skinny, as I ate as much as an army could consume in one sitting. I looked up again, realizing that they were waiting for an answer. I sighed and said, "I am Dante of Riften." The soldier scanned the list, then scanned it again. He looked to his superior. "Captain, what do we do? He's not on the list." She turned and said, "Forget the list, he goes to the block."

I was shocked. Surely this was against military protocol. "By your orders captain." The soldier said. Even he was a little skeptical about this. "I am sorry. At least you will die in your home." I sighed and turned towards the block. We were lined up, like cattle to a slaughter. General Tullius approached Ulfric. "Jarl Ulfric…" He addressed him. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero wouldn't use a power like the voice to murder his king, and usurp his throne." Ulfric grunted from behind his cloth. Tullius continued, "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos. Now the empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace." "What a douche." I thought to myself. The general nodded towards the captain, who turned to a priestess. "Give them their last rights." She said coldly. The priestess nodded and raised her hands. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you…" A stormcloak who was in the other cart stepped forward. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with." He yelled, approaching the block. The priestess narrowed her eyes at him and sighed, lowering her hands. "As you wish." She said. "Come on, I haven't got all morning!" He yelled. The captain knocked him on his knees, and used her foot to hold him against the block. The headsman was wearing a black mask, and a butchers outfit. His axe was longer than he was, and had a fearsome blade. He raised it above his head. "My ancestors are smiling at me imperials, can you say the same?" The stormcloak said, right as his head left his shoulders, rolling into the basket in front of the block. "You imperial bastards!" A female stormcloak yelled from down the line. "Justice!" A voice from behind yelled. "Death to the stormcloaks!" Ralof sighed. "As fearless in death, as he was in life." My mind was rushing, too much was happening. I needed time. Time to figure out a plan, yeah. Maybe they wouldn't call me until last since i'm not… "Next, the nord in rags!" The captain yelled pointing at me. "FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK" My mind raced. then, a kind of screech came from far away. "What was that?" The footsoldier with the list asked. Tullius cleared his throat and said. "It's nothing, carry on." The captain was getting impatient. "I said; Next. Prisoner!" I was shaking. Slowly stepping forward, death filled my mind. "IMDEADIMDEADIMDEADIMDEADNONONONONONONONONNONO" I approached the block and was forced onto my knees. Then, I was hunched over, everything was sideways. The headsman readied himself, as did I. "Oh may the eight divines forgive me for my sins." I whispered to myself. Another screech came out, and I closed my eyes. "WHAT IN OBLIVION IS THAT!?" Tullius yelled out. Still wasn't opening my eyes. "Sentries! What do you see?" The captain demanded. "It's in the clouds!" Someone else yelled. "DRAGON!" That caught my attention. As did the shaking ground. I opened to see the headsman on his knees and a… a… a… A Mother. Fucking. Dragon. "Holy…" I started. Fire rained from the sky, the executioner had fallen, soldiers were focused on the beast. Now's as good a chance as any to get the hell out.

Author's Note: Well? Yes, Skyrim has been out for a while now, but I wanted to start now as I really want to get elder scrolls online. Anyways, leave a review and I'll get back to writing sometime this… Uh… whenever. Bye!