Hey so this is my first fanfic on Skyrim elder scrolls v. I own nothing but my khajiits name and the little bits of added storyline. everything else belongs to the creators of Skyrim. please R&R let me know what you think.
The undeviating clicks of the horse's hooves against the rough cobblestone path they were following as they pulled a wagon behind them, echoed in my skull like the beating of war drums.
Where was I? What in the seven hells happened? The last thing I could remember was taking off into the forest outside my village after another fight with my parents. I was almost to the border between Tamriel and Skyrim when I was struck on the back of my head...after that, it was just darkness.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake." A man's voice cuts through the fog in my head as the world slowly came into a blurry focus. "You were trying to cross the border into Skyrim right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us and that thief over there."
Oh. So that's why it felt like my head was going to explode. I gave the blond man a shallow nod trying not to wince as the cart bounced again, before following his gaze to the man I assumed was the thief that had been mentioned.
" Damn you storm cloaks...Skyrim was fine till you came along. The empire was nice and lazy." The thief growls glaring at the blond man who had been speaking. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I would have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."
I glanced over at the blond man that had first spoken and studied him lazily. The maille armor made sense now. The question would be then, how did I get caught up in this? Clearly, I wasn't part of the storm cloaks…but if the Imperials thought that I was, I was as good as dead then.
Glancing back over to the left at the wagon full of prisoners ahead of us, I tried to formulate a plan of escape. There were only three guards, so if I could create a big enough distraction I could probably make a run for it…maybe.
"You there, You and me. We shouldn't be here." The thief says, my thoughts once again broken. His dark eyes wild with fear. "It's the storm cloaks that the Empires wants."
"We are all brothers and sisters in binds now." The man who had first spoken says darkly.
"I was only trying to cross the border. I didn't.." I start only to be cut off by the guard driving the wagon.
"Shut up back there."
I turn my attention to the guard, a low growl rumbling in my throat. I hated to be interrupted. Not to mention being wrongfully arrested and knocked out. What had I done to them?
"What's the matter with him?" the thief asks dully, his dark gaze fixed on whoever was beside me.
Turning my attention to the person beside me I felt my heart drop. If that was who I thought it was then I was royally screwed. There was no getting out of this. I should have just stayed home. Even in Tamriel we had heard of the war brewing between the stormcloaks and the Imperials.
"Watch your tongue." The first blond man snaps angrily, a fire burning in his blue gaze. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak. The true high king."
My attention remained focused on Ulfric, his icy gaze fixed on the thief. The Imperials had not only bound him but gagged him as well so he could not speak. The storm cloak leaders face was a mask of stone and completely unreadable.
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" the thief asks, panic starting to creep into his voice. "You're the leader of the rebellion…if they've captured you…..Oh, gods, where are they taking us?"
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." The first man to speak says, his voice sullen.
Its full blown panic when the thief speaks again and I want to do something to calm him down. It was bad enough my own mind was racing, trying desperately to think of some kind of escape.
"No, This can't be happening! This isn't happening!"
"Hey, what village are you from horse thief?" the blond man asks, his voice not unkind.
"Why do you care?" the horse thief snaps a hint of anger now in his voice.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home" the man mutters quietly his gaze fixed on something in the distance.
I grind my teeth and turn to look at the wagon ahead of us. Anybody's last thoughts should be of home. My mind racing back to Elsweyr. Now that I was about to die, I missed it terribly.
"Rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead." The thief mutters, drawing me from my thoughts of my province and back to the bitter reality of where I was. Up ahead I could see the gates opening to a village, as the wagons approached.
"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting." A guard calls down from the covered walk above the gate.
"Good, let's get this over with." Tullius replies as he passes through the gates annoyance clear in his voice.
I glance back over at the horse thief as he once again starts to freak out about our impending death. "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!"
The thiefs prayers I knew would go unanswered by his gods, nothing would get us out of this mess. As fate would have it, we had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now there was nothing anybody could do about it.
"Look at him! General Tullius, the Military." The first man to speak growls, irritation clear in his voice as we pass through the gates. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this."
The people were gathering now, watching with somber faces as the wagons pass by. I can't help but think once again of my own village. Of my parents. If only I hadn't gotten in that fight with them. If only I hadn't been so stubborn and eager to prove that I could take care of myself.
"This is Helgen... I used to be sweet on a girl from here." The blond man mutters quietly. "I wonder if Velod 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."
Tears spring to my eyes as we pass as a father orders his son inside, not wanting him to see what was about to happen. I would never have the chance to fix things with my family…I had stormed off so angry for being treated like a child, that I had never said goodbye. My family never knew where I was going, and now they would never know that I was going to die an unfair death.
I wanted to go home, I wanted to be safe back in my father's arms. I wanted my mom to tell me everything was going to be okay. I didn't want to die. It wasn't fair, I hadn't done anything wrong.
Its as if the rest of the world had become muffled, and time had slowed almost to a stop as we filed off the wagons to stand in front of a guard, a list of names in his hand. His sullen gaze scanning over us.
"Let's go. We shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." The blond man mutters as he stands.
"You've got to tell them we weren't with you! This is a mistake!" the thief pleas, his words falling on deaf ears. The Imperials didn't care if we were innocent or not. It was war, and war always demanded blood to be spilt. It didn't care whose.
"Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time!" a commander orders, her voice cold and harsh.
Despite being about to die, a calm washed over me as I moved to stand behind Ulfric. I didn't want to die but there was no sense in being terrified, I just hoped it would come swiftly.
"Empire loves their damned lists." The blond man mutters bitterly.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." I watch quietly, biting my tongue as Ulfric steps forward obediently. All fight gone from his tired gaze. I wanted to ask him what was wrong? Why did he so easily give into defeat?
"Ralof of Riverwood." The blond man beside me moves forward, the fire of resistance still burning in his gaze.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
Don't run. I think bitterly as I watch Lokirs body tense.
"No! I'm not a rebel. You can't do this." He pleads as he bolts.
I force myself to look away, knowing what would happen next. I had heard many tales from the old travelers in the taverns back home. I didn't even have to hear him yelp in pain to know that the arrows the archers had leased found their mark in his back.
The captain glares turning back to face us "Anyone else feel like running?"
No. death was inevitable at this point, and I had no intentions of suffering. There was silence among the rest of the storm cloaks as they watched in quiet hatred.
"Wait... You there. Step forward" the commander barks pointing her finger at me. I offer my parents a last silent farewell as I obey and step forward, willing my gaze to remain icy. I didn't want them to know how afraid I really was.
"Who are you?"
I felt the corner of my mouth twitch as I matched her gaze. Who was I? I was a hotheaded and impulsive young Khajiit that had a bad habit of acting first and thinking later. I was more like my father with my temper, but I looked just like my mother. I had the same copper shade of fur, speckled with black. My eyes were the same piercing blue as hers. Even my hair was hers, a dark curling waterfall that I kept in twin braids. Yes, I looked just like my mother. The only difference was the scar that ran diagonally across my nose, starting from my left eye and ending by my right cheekbone. I had gotten it from a fight I had been in with my brother when we were just cubs. I hadn't stepped back quick enough and he had caught me with his dagger. I couldn't even remember what the fight had been about. I also had six gold earrings, three in each ear. These were the only things that set me apart in appearance from my mother.
"Aysa Lynx." I say quietly as I glance towards the man with the list of names.
"You with one of the trade caravans Khajiit?" the guard asks, as he scribbles something on his list. "Your kind always seems to find trouble."
No actually. I want to snarl, as I walk past him to go stand with the other prisoners. Just because other Khajiit's have caused trouble doesn't mean we all are the same. Instead, I let out a low rumbling growl causing him to take half a step back as he watches me cautiously.
I'd be dead soon anyway so what did it matter to him. I wasn't much of a threat.