The Monsters Within

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Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, this is owned by Bethesda

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A dull throb echoed through his head as he opened eyes and groaned softly as the sunlight seemed to pierce his skull. He closed his eyes again for a moment and opened them once more hoping for less pain as he tried to remember why he was sitting in a carriage with his hands bound. He looked around and noticed the three men in the carriage with him, the man opposite of himself had blonde hair and wore a blue uniform, next to him was a man in ragged clothes with dark hair and seated next to him was a blonde man wearing the clothes a Jarl might wear.

As he was looking around the man in the blue uniform looked over and started speaking "Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? You walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and the horse thief over there."

He glanced over at the man with the dark hair and noticed now how grubby looking he was.

The thief glared at the other two men and grumbled "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 have stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell. You there, you and me, we shouldn't be here, it's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

He looked at him desperately as if expecting him to untie himself and set him free. Apparently they had neglected to take away his armor, but his axes had obviously been taken away. He didn't need the weapons to fight and they had been temporary replacements after his previous ones had been shattered, but they were useful.

The man in the blue uniform snapped at him "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

The carriage driver which until now he hadn't noticed shouted at them "Shut up back there!"

He glared back at the man with an animalistic glare, only to huff when the driver flinched away. So far he hadn't said a word and neither had the other man beside him, though that may have something to do with the gag covering his mouth.

The thief looked at the man beside him with the Jarl's robes and spoke softly "And what's wrong with him, huh?"

The man in blue glares at the thief and growls at him, looking as though he would dearly love to hit the thief "Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

The thief looks taken aback and looks at Ulfric in shock "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?"

The man in blue sighed and looked away pensively "I don't know where we're going, but I do know that Sovngarde waits for us."

As soon as he heard the words the thief started to panic, fear flooding his eyes. "No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening."

The man in blue looked over at him and spoke softly "Hey, what village are you from horse thief?"

Looking back at him glumly he huffed "Why do you care?"

Unfazed he explained "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

The thief's face softened "Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead."

The blond man turned towards him and asked, "And you, brother?"

"A small farm outside of Whiterun, though I sold it when I joined the Legion many years ago." He replied, his voice deep and dark. The reply had been growled out, but it seemed natural for him.

"A Legionnaire? Why would they arrest one of their own?" the man asked, puzzled. The man next to him, Ulfric, turned to get a better look at him, and when his eyes went wide, the blond noticed, "You are apparently well known as well if Jarl Ulfric reacts to your presence like that."

"I will have this sorted out when we arrive at our destination. I left the Legion on good terms and I only returned when an old friend sought me out looking for help." the driver turned to bark at them again but he let loose a growl, his eyes seemed to glow threateningly at the man. The driver clammed up quickly and turned back to the road, "By Ysmir, if Delvin set me up again, I'll break his neck."

They all sat in silence after that. The horse thief was muttering to himself as Ulfric studied him closely. The blond noted that the man in front of him was no average Nord. He towered over them by nearly a head even when sitting, and his armor did nothing to hide his musculature. The armor itself greatly resembled plate mail armor, though it was a darker gray. The chest piece was emblazoned with a wolf's head, similar to a crest he had once come across in a book about Potema. The man wore no helmet and the gauntlets ended at his wrists instead of covering his hands as well.

"Do you not wear a helmet?" he asked, as the man looked at him. His own helmet was between his feet from where the imperials had knocked it off and he couldn't pick it up.

"No. It's very uncomfortable for me to wear one." he said before he smirked, "And it's my own little personal challenge to archers on the battlefield."

The blond gaped before a shout rang out. All four of them looked round as one of the guardsmen called out "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"

A man on horseback left the little convoy and called back "Good, let's get this over with."

He stopped and started speaking with another person on horseback, an elf as far as he could tell. The thief started to panic as they headed under an archway into a village. "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!"

As they passed the two people on horseback talking, the man in blue stared to talk again.

"Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor and it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this." He looked around him and a small smile curled his lips "This is Helgen, I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I 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."

The voice of a young boy caught his attention and he turned to see a little boy sat on a porch, asking, "Who are they father? Where are they going?"

The boy's father looks at them in the carriage and then speaks to his son, "You need to go inside."

He watched as the boy looked at his father in confusion and stayed sat on the porch "Why? I want to watch the soldiers."

The boy's father frowned at him and barked "Inside the house. Now."

The boy sighed and got up, going back into the house "Yes papa."

As the boy walked into the house the carriage drivers started to stop the horses and the horse thief started looking around in a panic "Why are we stopping?"

The carriage rolled to a stop and the driver got down, the man in blue turned to the thief and sighed, "Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go, shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us."

The four of them got up and started to descend from the carriage.

"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" The thief cried out gesturing to himself and the tall Nord, his height surprising everyone when they realized that Ulfric only came up to his shoulder. The guards didn't listen and the people watching from their houses didn't seem to care either.

The man in blue behind him called to the thief "Face your death with some courage, thief."

He could hear the panic in the thief's voice as he shouted "You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!"

The four of them stood together in front of two soldiers, the man holding a scroll. The woman barked at them "Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time."

The man in blue next to him sighed heavily "Empire loves their damned lists."

He had to agree, it put him a bit off, especially when Tullius dismounted nearby and balked at the sight of him. It seems as if the General knew who he was, so it was about a fifty-fifty chance of him walking because of his reputation, or them trying to take his head for what he was.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm." He turned and walked towards the block, holding his head up high showing not a hint of fear.

The man in blue called to him as he walked away "It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!"

The man looked at his list and read out the next name "Ralof of Riverwood." The man in blue walked past him and joined the rest of people at the block.

"Lokir of Rorikstead" The horse thief moved forward, full of fear.

"No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" He started to run down the path.

The Legate shouted "Halt!"

But Lokir wasn't going to stop for anything now. "You're not going to kill me!"

But the Legate wasn't going to just let him escape "Archers!"

The archers drew their bows and shot Lokir down, and then the captain turned back "Does anyone else feel like running?"

That's when the man looked up from his scroll and back down at it before frowning slightly and looking back at him.

"Wait, you there, step forward." He stepped closer to the soldiers and watched them carefully "Who are you?"

"I am Woulfe Winter-Run of Whiterun." He said drawing himself to his full height of six foot ten, "Former Commander of Unit Sixty-six."

Ralof's eyes went wide as he heard this. Ulfric lowered his head. Several citizens screamed in terror. Every Legionnaire took a reflexive steep back, except for two.

"Commander Winter-Run, reports said you disappeared after the last battle of the Great War." Tullius said as he strode forward, "Give me one damn reason to free you."

"I just arrived in Skyrim during your little ambush. An old friend needed my help." Woulfe's smirk grew wide, and many grabbed their weapons. This was no Nord, he was a Deadra wearing the flesh of a man.

"Send him to the block." Tullius's Legate said as Tullius turned to her immediately. The Thalmor that had followed Tullius to the execution had whispered something in her ear that had caused her to grin darkly.

"Former Commander, as you can see I have no power here. I will make sure there is a proper burial." Tullius mounted his horse and left, not wanting to see what was to come. He knew that no matter what happened, he would be powerless to stop what was to come. As he rode out of the gate, nearly all of the men, with the exception of those directly under the Legate, followed suit.

"So be it." Woulfe spat, watching him ride away. The Thalmor had stayed behind, both wanting to watch his and Ulfric's heads roll.

Woulfe stopped as far back from the block as he could but unfortunately he had a perfect view of it, as he was staring bleakly at the block the Legate walked across the courtyard to stand in front of Ulfric. "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 the throne."

The only response Ulfric could give through the gag was muffled grunting. The woman sneered, just cutting straight across him, not giving him a chance to speak, "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."

Woulfe's cursed blood boiled at that, she had sneered at him when she made the comment. He growled as she continued her sneer, believing she was perfectly safe from him with his hands bound. But Woulfe was willing to mangle his hands to sink his teeth into her flesh.

A strange echoing roar broke his train of thought as he looked around for the source. The solider that had read out the names spoke into the silence after the noise had stopped "What was that?"

The woman frowned, still looking around a little "It's nothing. Carry on."

The Legate walked away towards the guard tower she and the other prisoners were facing. The captain turned to the Priestess of Arkay "Give them their last rites."

The Priestess of Arkay lifted her arms and spoke in a soft melodious voice "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..."

An aggressive looking red haired man stepped forward and yelled at the priestess "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!"

The Priestess looked annoyed and lowered her arms "As you wish."

The man stopped at the block and turned to face it, the captain moving up behind him but that wasn't enough for him he growled at the headsman "Come on, I haven't got all morning."

Woulfe couldn't help but to release a savage smile, yes he was going to die but he was going to die a man and not just a man but a true Nord.

The Legate pushed him to his knees and put her foot on his back, but the Red-head hadn't finished yet, as he put his head down to the block he spoke loud and clear "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperial. Can you say the same?"

The headsman raised his axe above his head and brought it crashing down on the rash man's neck, his head went rolling across the floor and his body was kicked to the side. It was a brave death, as the man showed no fear as he left the world.

To his left Woulfe heard a female prisoner shout her disgust "You Imperial bastards!"

However the crowd didn't agree with her.

"Justice! Death to the Stormcloaks!" cried the man on the porch of the inn, the woman behind them growling menacingly

A soft voice spoke at his right side "As fearless in death as he was in life."

Woulfe turned his head to see Ralof looking at his fallen comrade but not in pity.

"He will be avenged the moment they try to execute me."

Her attention was caught however when the captain spoke again "Next, the mongrel Nord!"

It was official, Woulfe was going to eviscerate that woman. He strode forward, flexing his arms so the ropes began to strain, frightening everyone around him. As he was about to step up to her another roar rang out and everyone stopped and looked around again, he ignored it in favor of baring his teeth at the Legate, mocking her easily.

The man that had called the names spoke to the captain "There it is again. Did you hear that?"

But she just snapped back at him "I said, next prisoner." The man sighed and looked at him, slightly unnerved.

"To the block Former Commander. Nice and easy." This was apparently it, to everyone else he was doomed. He started to walk to the block hoping the Legate would walk close enough to him to kill her, when another roar echoed through the town. Woulfe looked up to the mountain, eyes widening in disbelief when he saw something huge and black swoop towards them with that same roar they had heard before, only this time louder.

The Legate had obviously had enough of the interruptions "What in Oblivion is that? Sentries, what do you see?"

They didn't have to answer however as the thing landed on the guard tower, the headsman didn't seem to care however he had raised his axe ready to cut him down when it became clear he wouldn't kneel, unfortunately when the thing landed he caused the earth beneath them to shake and he fell letting Woulfe snatch the knife at the man's belt and begin working on his binds.

The female Stormcloak soldier shouted in fear "Dragon!"

As soon as the word left her mouth the dragon gave a strange roar, the clouds darkened overhead and fireballs started to rain down around them. Not being one to stay still in the face of death, Woulfe dropped dagger and pulled apart his half severed binds and darted away towards the nearby tower.

Around him people were panicking and the Legate was ordering people around, he looked around to see Ralof looking at her desperately "Hurry Kinsman. Get in! Come on, the God's won't give us another chance!"

He understood what he was talking about and hurried over to him, he turned and started running to the other guard tower. Ralof closed the door behind her and she looked around, two Stormcloak soldiers were on the floor being tended to by another soldier, Ulfric was leaning against the wall by the door.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Can the legends be true?" Ralof was clearly relieved to see his leader unharmed and was desperately trying to understand what was going on.

Ulfric looked bored and uncaring as he replied "Legends don't burn down villages."

"Of course they do," Woulfe said as he took an axe from one of the injured, "This is all I need, time for vengeance."

Ralof tried to stop him from leaving, but Ulfric restrained him, "Ralof, you are a good man. I won't let you die a needless death by getting in between him and his prey."

Ralof tried to argue, but Ulfric had turned away towards the Stormcloaks gathered around him, "Do not anger that man, for it will end with your deaths. Even I with my Thu'um would be hard pressed to hold him at bay when he gets enraged."

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Woulfe's feet pounded against the ground as his charged the elf stupid enough to try and get away from him. The Thalmor operatives had split and gone separate ways and he went after the male. The Legate was going nowhere as she tried to rally her troops, so he chased the elf. He chased him into an open courtyard in front of the keep, ignoring the black dragon that watched him with a calculating gaze. As the elf tried to pry his way into the keep, Woulfe's arm drew back. With a shout that carried the fury of a thousand Nords, the elf spun around in fear, only to catch the axe in his chest.

Woulfe turned to the Legate on the walls, staring at him in complete fear. Her eyes were wide with fear, her breath short and gasping. He scaled the wooden platforms to the wall with ease, his eyes, so bestial in nature and intent, kept her frozen in place. Legionnaires fell left and right as he shoved them out of his way, their screams ignored. As he closed in, his hand reached out. He seized her by her throat, lifting her into the air, cutting off her scream.

The men watched as his hand entered her stomach, and exited through her back. As he removed his hand, he let her bleeding corpse fall to the ground. Then he let out an eerie howl. The men cringed in fear, civilians screamed, and the dragon, which had landed in front of a small boy, turned to him.

Woulfe took a running start, shifting as he went. The man became a wolf, covered with heavy armor that left his head uncovered and his claws usable. The dragon turned fully to the beast as he leapt off of the wall with a vicious roar meeting its challenging howl.

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Ulfric watched from the outer wall as men on both sides, who ignored direct orders to run, attacked the battling creatures. Turning to Ralof, Ulfric asked, "What do you see in the center of this town?"

"A battle in which no mortal can survive." Ralof replied as he turned away from the town and lead the remaining Stormcloaks to safety.

"While you are right," Ulfric said softly as he continued to watch, "You are also wrong. I see the monsters within us all."

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Author's Note: one shot about Woulfe from The Monk Overlord. Helgen scene. Might do more if the situation calls for it.