Hello !
This is my first fanfic ever, and I'm really excited to write it! I am not comfortable with anything smutty (ruins the game for me) but there probably will be some romance in there ;)
Enjoy and please review!
Kyn was having a bad day.
She hadn't known that there were stormcloaks in her party. She hadn't known that an Imperial ambush would be waiting for them at the border.
But who would listen to the grungy Breton woman claiming she had no idea who she was traveling with? No one, obviously.
On a good day she might have been able to charm her way out of this mess, but these circumstances were a bit different. She was not a particularly beautiful woman, but she knew that she was definitely not ugly. A flutter of long-lashed hazel eyes, a flip of her sleek, almost straight hair…
But now her pale skin was covered in grime, her strange strawberry-blonde toned hair dull and matted brown with mud. She didn't even want to think about how she smelled. She whistled lowly to herself.
"How did you get yourself in the mess?" Kyn silently berated herself.
The Nord man sitting across from Kyn, hearing her whistle, turned to her.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border with us, right? Damn Imperial ambush got us."
Kyn glared at him out of the corner of her eyes. "Well I didn't realize I was traveling with wanted men."
The man laughed, surprising her. "That's quite the death stare, miss. The name's Ralof, and honestly, I can't blame you." He shrugged. "Although there's really nothing we can do now." He turned the man sitting somberly next to him. "Where are you from, horse-thief?"
The horse-thief looked at the two of them, his eyes dark. "Why?"
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." Ralof said quietly.
The horse-thief looked a bit stricken. "Rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead."
The man sitting beside Kyn grunted. "What's his problem, huh?" muttered the horse-thief.
"Watch your tongue," Ralof spat. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, High King of Skyrim.
Kyn's eyes widened in shock. "By the Divines. What have I gotten myself into?" She closed her eyes, willing the cart to go faster. When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by tall stone walls. She looked ahead, and saw where the rest of the carts where waiting. "End of the line." She thought grimly as the cart grumbled to a stop.
As the passengers filed off the cart, she heard names being called, people chattering. "Ralof, of Riverwood," the man counting them off called. Kyn watched as the Nord walked calmly to the waiting area, around the chopping block. "The chopping block. Oh gods." She silently prayed as Ulfric followed Ralof's example.
The horse-thief must have come to the same realization. The soldier called Lokir, of Rorikstead, and he panicked. "No! You can't do this!" He tried to run, bolting for the town gates, but hardly made it 100 yards before he was brought down by a barrage of Imperial arrows. Kyn cringed at the small cry that echoed from the fallen man. No escape.
But the soldier appeared flummoxed by Kyn's presence. "Who… who are you?" He asked.
"My name's Kynith." She replied, trying to keep the waver of fear out of her voice. But the soldier appeared concerned about her appearance.
"She's not on the list." He stammered to the woman standing next to him, a tall Redguard woman wearing steel armor. "Forget the list!" The woman spat, glaring at Kyn. "She goes to the block." The soldier turned back to Kyn, an apology written in his features. "Sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to your family." He said, gesturing her to follow his commander, who was now making her way to the chopping block.
Kyn cringed thinking about it. That was the last thing she remembered of the last few days. But then… the dragon fight outside of Whiterun. She recalled the blinding light, the stabbing pain, and suddenly the guards were staring, whispering, "Dragonborn."
Just like they had. Well, shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "Don't think about it." She reminded herself sternly. When the 'Graybeards' had called for her, she knew she couldn't go. Not yet.
This is why she now found herself outside of a town called Riften, on the horse she had bought with the reward from the Jarl of Whiterun. She leaned down, patted her mounts neck, and hopped down, approaching the gate. The guard stops me, holding out his hand.
"Hold, Breton. You'll have to pay the visitors tax if you wish to enter Riften."
Kyn frowned. She'd heard Riften was a city of thieves, but she hadn't been expecting it at the front gate.
"What's the tax for?" She questioned, leering at the guard.
"For the pleasure of viewing the city." He scoffed, waving off her question. "What more do you require?"
Kyn rolled her eyes. She was tired of petty bandits. "This is obviously a shakedown." She growled, a threatening undertone in her voice.
The guard shook his head. "Keep your voice! You don't want to get heard do you?" He glanced around the group nervously. "Go on in."
Kyn grinned triumphantly. She walked through the large wooden gates, preparing herself for whatever was inside.
Obviously, character dialogue is not exact. It's too hard for me to look it up. Another chapter should be up VERY soon, and will get more on the main theme of this story.
~SMC