Disclaimer: Skyrim, The Elder Scrolls, and most characters are the property of Bethesda Softworks. Some plot points and the OCs are mine, that's it. May or may not feature cameos from friends' save files as random NPC type characters.
A/N: There will be some things that will happen in this fic that would not or COULD not occur in vanilla Skyrim. If a specific mod from either the Nexus or Steam Workshop comes into play, I will give credit to the mod author.
That aside, I know this is a short chapter, so bear with me. I will try to make subsequent chapters longer, and try and write them quickly.
Ondelas' Awakening: Chapter 1
The carriage wheels rolled over a stone, jostling the passengers. The unconscious Altmer jerked awake. The dull roar behind his eyes reminded him of the blow to the head he had received from an Imperial's mace.
"Damned Nords..." he muttered under his breath.
The blond Nord sitting across from him in the carriage heard him. "Hey, you. You're finally awake. You tried to cross the border, ri-" "Silence, Nord. I know why I am here. I could not care less for why you are, though," the Altmer cut him off. The Nord narrowed his eyes.
"Your kind is the reason we're even in this mess, elf," he spat. "If it wasn't for your damned Aldmeri Dominion, there wouldn't be a Stormcloak rebellion, and there would be no war! Skyrim was fine before your kind decided to-" The Altmer cut him off again. "Before my kind decided to WHAT, Nord? Do not group me with the other Altmer, and certainly do not mistake me for a member of the Dominion. I am no Justiciar, come to your land to rape your beliefs. Do not judge me, Nord."
Before the Nord could retort, the carriage driver shouted back at them, "Shut up back there!" The Altmer smoldered in fury. How DARE a man of a lower race ORDER him like that? It was unseemly. As he stewed, a dark haired Nord, who was sitting next to the blond, stirred.
"Damn you Stormcloaks... Damned Elves..." he muttered. In a low, but audible, voice he added "And what's with him, huh?" while motioning at the third man the Altmer hadn't noticed. He was dressed in fine clothes and was gagged, unlike the other 3 prisoners in the carriage.
"Watch your tongue, horse thief! That man is Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim!" the blond retorted in equal parts pride and anger.
The Altmer's brows raised in surprise. By the Princes... The leader of the Nords' silly rebellion was sitting inches from him. This did NOT bode well. The horse thief agreed. "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the rebellion? If they've captured you.. Oh gods, where are they taking us?" The thief's voice tremored more with each word.
The rebel's voice was strangely calm. "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits... What village are you from, horse thief?"
The dark haired Nord's eyes were holding back tears. "Why do YOU care?"
"A Nord's last thoughts...should be of home," the blond rebel replied.
The thief was quiet for a long moment before he finally answered. "Rorikstead... I'm from Rorikstead..."
At that moment, the carriage crested a hill, and the gate of an Imperial wall came into view. A soldier on the wall shouted, "General Tullius, Sir! The headsman is waiting!"
A reply came from a man who was apparently the general of the Imperial army, an Imperial himself. "Good. Let's get this over with." The Altmer was thoroughly unable to find the source of the reply, but he filed away the sound of the man's voice...for future reference.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!" the thief pleaded to Aetherius. The Altmer scoffed. The 9 Divines didn't help their worshipers except for those meager blessings. The blond Nord gave him a dirty look, which the Altmer ignored.
The blond rebel glanced behind the carriage and his face screwed up in disgust as the carriage passed under the gate. "Look at him... General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn Elves. I'm sure that they had something to do with this." The last was said with a glance at the Altmer, which was again ignored. The rebel sighed and relaxed against the hard back of the carriage. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. 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."
"Who are they daddy? Where are they going?" a young boy sitting on the front porch of a house asked his father. "You need to go inside, little cub," the man gently urge his son. The boy wasn't happy. "Why? I want to watch the soldiers." The father was firmer this time. "Inside the house. Now." The boy stood up reluctantly. "Yes, Papa..."
Just then, the carriage driver reined the horse to a stop, and a female's voice cried out "Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!"
The horse thief was on the verge of panic. "Why are we stopping?"
"Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us..." With that, the four prisoners stood and jumped off the carriage, but the thief was tense.
"No, wait! We're not rebels!"
The blond rebel was unamused. "Face your death with some courage, thief!" The horse thief ignored him.
"You've got to tell them. We weren't with you! This is a mistake!"
A female soldier, the one who had commanded the prisoners off the carriage, was standing next to a dark haired Nord. She glared at the prisoners. "Step towards the block when we call your name. ONE AT A TIME.
The blond Nord sighed. "Empire loves their damn lists."
The Nord next to the Imperial Captain was holding a checklist, and started roll call. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." The leader of the rebellion stepped towards the headsman's block, where a priestess of Arkay was standing next to a large and imposing masked man with an executioner's axe.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," the rebel whispered, completely reverent to the man who was a symbol of their cause.
The Imperial soldier continued. "Ralof of Riverwood." The blond rebel, Ralof, followed after Stormcloak without a word, pointedly not looking at the man holding the checklist.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
"No, I'm not a rebel! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" The horse thief took off, running past the Captain and towards the gate of the city they had just ridden through.
The Captain was furious. Her voice was sharp and hard as she yelled out commands. "HALT! ARCHERS!"
"You're not gonna kill m-Agh" The thief hadn't made it far down the road when he was pierced by several arrows.
The Captain turned back to the remaining prisoners. "Anyone else feel like running?" Of course, no one responded. Or ran, for that matter.
The soldier with the checklist turned back to the Altmer. "Wait. You there, Elf, step forward. Who...are you?"
The High Elf, though his hands were bound, strode regally toward the Nord. His head was held high in spite of his position and he glowered at the dark haired Nord with the checklist.
"My name is my own, Nord. Though if you must know it, I am known as Ondelas."