Part I: Last Seed, 4E 201
Chapter 1: Rude Awakening (Sundas, 17th of Last Seed)
Her shoulders felt tight, and the pain in her head was the worst she'd ever felt. Her body was being jostled, and her skin was cold. She could hear voices, horses, and the rumble of wheels over gravel and stone. Opening her eyes was a struggle. The sunlight was blinding and worsened the shooting pain, but she eventually succeeded. Squinting against the harsh intrusion of light, she realized she was in a wagon traveling through a coniferous, snow-covered forest. There were three others in the wagon, all sitting with their arms bound behind them. She realized then that was why her shoulders were pulling. Her wrists were bound behind her, leaving her arms in an awkward position that was straining to her muscles.
"You're finally awake," a friendly voice commented.
She looked to her left and made eye contact with a fellow prisoner, a Nord who sat on the side of the carriage opposite her. He was a hulking man, as most Nords were. His muscles bulged beneath his shirt. His long blonde hair was tied back but falling loose, and he was covered in dirt and blood. He wore a set of uniform armor with a blue sash that was torn and bloody. Despite his rough appearance, the bright, blue eyes that met hers were friendly.
"I was beginning to think you never would," the Nord continued.
"Where are we?" she asked, her voice hoarse from disuse.
The man shrugged as best he could with his arms bound. "Somewhere in Skyrim," he replied. "We left their camp in the Jeralls near the Cyrodiil border before sunrise, but I'm not certain of exactly where we are at this point."
"We've been captured by the Imperials?" she asked, though it wasn't really a question. By this time, she had noticed the soldier driving the carriage they were in, and his gold and crimson Imperial armor was unmistakable.
"Aye," the Nord replied. "You had the misfortune of getting caught up in an Imperial ambush. It was intended for us, but you were captured in the frey. Same as this horse thief here." He nodded toward the man sitting beside him.
This man was also clearly of Nord descent, though he was less muscular and his hair was darker. He still had the fair features, massive frame, and excessive height. He wore simple clothes, equally dirty but less bloody than the others. "Damn Stormcloaks," the man spat. "This is all your fault. The Empire was good and lazy before you started stirring things up. I could've stollen those horses and been halfway to Hammerfell by now if not for you."
The first Nord chuckled. "We're all brothers in binds now, thief." He turned back toward the woman. "I am Ralof of Riverwood, a soldier for the Stormcloak army."
"Aerenwen," she simply replied. She had no idea who the Stormcloaks were. She studied the other carriage in front of them, hoping to see the familiar faces of her siblings in the prisoners there, but she had no luck. She hoped they had evaded capture, unlike her, and that they hadn't been killed during the skirmish she only vaguely recalled thanks to the bump on her head.
"And you, thief?" Ralof asked.
"Lokir," the man replied. "I hail from Rorikstead." He glanced at the man across from him, seated beside Aerenwen. "What's his problem, anyway?"
This man, even larger than Ralof with similar hair and beard, sat glowering at Aerenwen, and she couldn't help but wonder why either.
"Watch your words!" Ralof barked. "You're in the presence of Ulfric Stormcloak, rightful High King of Skyrim."
"Ulfric?" Lokir replied, sounding panicked. "Jarl of Windhelm? Why, if they've captured you, that means . . . oh gods, where are they taking us?!"
"I know not where we're going," Ralof replied thoughtfully, "but Sovngarde awaits."
The thief began muttering to himself, commenting that he was too young to die and praying to the divines to save them. "This is a mistake!" he called out loudly. "I'm not one of them!" The guard simply barked an order to quiet down, and Lokir turned to Aerenwen. "We have to tell them. You and me, we're not Stormcloaks. We're not involved in the rebellion."
Aerenwen ignored him, lost to her thoughts. An execution. So she was to meet her parents' fate after all.
A walled settlement of some sort came into view as they crested a hill, and the large wooden gates were opened, allowing them to pass through.
"General Tullius!" a soldier standing within the gate called out. "The headsman awaits!"
The thief began ranting again, but Aerenwen sat silent.
"Why, this is Helgen!" Ralof realized. "We're just a couple hours from my home. I used to be sweet on a girl from here."
Aerenwen glanced around at the town, quaint and quiet within it's stone walls. Most of the buildings were a combination of stone and wood architecture. The narrow stone road was spotted with fresh snow and twisted among the buildings. The residents looked upon the small caravan with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. Parents ushered their curious children into their homes, and many spat out insults at the Stormcloak captives.
"Looks like the Thalmor are here," Ralof commented.
Aerenwen, alarmed, followed his gaze to an Altmer woman on horseback. She was speaking with the Imperial general and wearing the familiar embroidered robes of a Thalmor official.
"Most likely they're behind this," Ralof continued. "Damn elves. No offense, friend."
Aerenwen cracked a smile. "None taken," she replied. "I owe no allegiance to the Thalmor, and I assure you, there are those of us at home who are quite opposed to their rule." She wondered now if her capture hadn't been such a mistake after all. If the Thalmor were truly behind the ambush, it was quite possible she and her siblings had been just as much targets as the Stormcloaks were.
The wagons pulled to a stop side-by-side in the shadow of two tall stone towers.
"What's happening? Why have we stopped?" Lokir wondered nervously.
The prisioners were instructed to stand and calmly leave the wagons, and the thief continued his pleading.
"Please! This is a mistake! I'm not one of them!"
Ralof shook his head. "Die with some dignity, thief," he scoffed as the rest quietly stepped down from the wagons.
They were lined up and called by name, one-by-one, and escorted to an area near a chopping block. When Ulfric was called, his followers shouted out his praises and claimed it had been an honor to serve and fight alongside him. When Lokir was called, he attempted to flee. Evading death was in vain. It found him anyway. A line of archers unleashed their arrows as he ran down the street, and he fell almost immediately. The snow around him slowly became stained with red.
When Aerenwen was the only prisoner left standing near the wagons, she was instructed to step forward. The Imperial soldier looked her over and asked her name. At her reply, he asked if she was with the Thalmor embassy. She told him no, and he glanced at the woman beside him, who, judging by her armor, outranked him. "What do we do, Lieutenant?" he asked. "She's not on the list."
"To hell with the list," the woman spat. "She goes to the block with the rest of them."
The soldier nodded but looked on Aerenwen with kindness, and perhaps some pity. "I'm sorry, elf. We'll make sure your remains are returned to the Summerest Isle."
Aerenwen nodded and gave the man a soft smile. It wasn't his fault, and he was a good man. She could tell. She'd always been good at reading people, and she truly felt, despite the circumstances, this soldier was a good man. Aerenwen felt it unnecessary to tell him that there would be no one at home to receive her body. She rejoined the other prisoners near the chopping block, located at the base of another tall, stone tower, and listened as General Tulius began a long-winded speech outlining the crimes of Ulfric Stormcloak and his followers. Apparently they were responsible for inciting a civil war in Skyrim.
The general's speech was interrupted by a strange and horrible sounding roar. It was obviously from a distance but echoed through the courtyard, startling everyone present.
"What was that?" the kind soldier from earlier wondered.
"Never mind," the general said. "Let's get on it with it."
A priestess began giving a blessing over the prisoners, but she, too, was interrupted by a roar. This one was closer, and the ground seemed to shake with it. The blue sky was suddenly cloud-covered, and Aerenwen couldn't help but feel the air took on a foreboding feel.
"There it is again," the soldier commented. "What could it be?"
"I said never mind!" the general barked, obviously in a hurry to end the execution and hopefully, with it, the civil war.
The first prisoner, a Stormcloak, was escorted to the chopping block. Aerenwen closed her eyes as he kneeled but couldn't close her ears from the sickening sound of the axe severing his head and thumping against the block.
"Next the high elf!" the Lieutenant announced, and Aerenwen found herself pushed forward. Before she knew it, she was forced to her knees and bent over the blood-soaked block. Her nose was assaulted with the sweet and sharp iron scent of the blood, and she thought, for a moment, they could have at least removed the previous prisoner's decapitated body before forcing her to kneel in the puddle of his blood. Her stomach lurched as she saw his head in the basket, eyes staring lifelessly toward the sky.
The headsman loomed over her, his face hidden beneath his black hood. He readied his massive axe, slowly raising it, but was knocked off balance as a third, even louder, roar echoed around them. He steadied himself and took position again but failed to notice the massive beast that had landed on the tower above him.
Enormous and black with massive wings and a serpentine head, the form of the beast was unmistakable. A dragon. Some thought them to be myths. Others that they had been killed off. But this dragon was, without a doubt, very much alive and definitely not a myth. It opened its massive jaws and unleashed a stream of flames from between its jagged teeth. As it did so, the earth quaked with another roar. The headsman fell, and Aerenwen was knocked aside, her head striking the edge of the block. Once again, she lie in darkness.
Author's Note: This is one of a series of six I am working on. Each story will follow a different sibling as they make their way through Skyrim, each woven into the main storyline of the game in their own way. I will be adding a chapter weekly, at least, and at times will take a break from Aerenwen's story to bring you into the lives of her siblings in their own stories. When that happens, I will always make a note of it.