I do not own Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, or any of the characters and/or plot lines associated with it.
...
All right, all right. So I gave in. Sue me.
Oh wait, you probably won't, because if you're reading this, it's because you want to!
I know the title is kind of the worst, but... it's the best that I could do. This story is about all of the OCs, and I couldn't...
Eh. Whatever.
A Meeting at Midnight
It was near midnight, from the look of the moons, which were the only source of light over the small grove of trees where a cloaked figure sat waiting on a rock.
It wasn't hard to realize they were waiting there for the start of a secret meeting. From the way they kept glancing around, and up at the sky, it seemed that the meeting was late to start. No doubt they were wondering where their accomplices were, wondering what was keeping them, and if it was worth it to keep waiting.
The figure stirred as there was the sound of movement through the undergrowth, and they rose from the rock, wary despite knowing that no one other than who they were meeting would know to find anyone here.
Another hooded figure emerged from the edge of the trees into the small clearing where the first stood. They gazed at one another for a moment, and then, just as a precaution, the first spoke the agreed upon question, "What is the name of our enemy? The true name?"
"Crayla Honeyrunner," the second responded, and the first relaxed.
"Where is the other?"
"I don't know. It's well past the meeting time. I apologize for being late."
The first shook their head. "It is no matter. We will all be exhausted by the time we return to our homes anyway. It'll be hard enough to explain as it is."
There was more movement, and then a third figure crept through the trees, glancing between the two already standing in the clearing.
"The name?" the second arrival asked.
"Crayla Honeyrunner," the third answered, and all three moved closer together, so they wouldn't have to speak as loudly.
"Have we heard any updates?" the third questioned of the first.
"The Jarl of Windhelm is planning his journey to Solitude for the King's Moot," they replied. "He is adamant against the Dragonborn's sister joining him, but she is stubborn, and will most likely be brought along."
"We will need to come up with a plan to get her away from her sister," the third said, wringing their hands beneath the folds of their cloak. "The security around them will be lessened if the future High Queen is not present."
"So that is the final decision, then?" the second said, looking around at their companions. "The Moot will result in a victory for Ulfric Stormcloak?"
"Only one of us has the power to make it so," the first stated, looking at the third.
They nodded. "Unless something unforeseeable occurs, the majority of the jarls are prepared to vote Ulfric into the position of High King."
"Which means, if we do not accomplish what we plan to before they leave Solitude, that access to the Dragonborn will be even more unlikely," the second pointed out, sounding weary.
"Let us not worry about a failure," the first soothed. "We won't fret until we absolutely have to. We will have to trust in our friend, to be sure that he acts as we need him to."
"Have you been in contact with him?" the third queried, and the first shook their head.
"Not since the first letter I sent, and the one that was returned."
"And how do you know it came from him?" the second demanded.
"Because I know him," the first retorted, sounding as though they were beginning to lose their composure. "We spoke with one another during the vampire fiasco."
"That was almost six months ago, now," the third pointed out. "How do we know that he hasn't had a change of heart since then?"
There was silence between the three of them for a moment, each no doubt imagining what would happen, were their fourth accomplish to choose not to complete his task.
Finally, the first shook their head. "We need to trust him. It is our only hope as of now."
"But how can we trust him?" the second exclaimed. "He is so close to the Dragonborn's friend… the one that refused to kill her multiple times already!"
In response to this explosion of words, there was a rather loud howl of a wolf, echoing through the trees around them. All three figures jumped, and looked worriedly at one another.
"It couldn't have been her, could it?" the third whispered.
"No," the first assured, "and even if it was, she couldn't have heard us."
"Who's to say?" the second hissed at them. "For all we know, she's running back to inform the Dragonborn right now -"
"Silence!" the first said sharply, under their breath. "Bad thoughts come true, you know this." Still, they glanced over their shoulder for a moment, listening. "We are not safe here. Scatter. We will talk after the Moot, with either jubilation that the Dragonborn is dead at last, or despair that we will have to try harder."
All three figures departed from the clearing in different directions. Once they had gone, a few minutes passed before a large being worked its way into the clearing. It stood on two legs, but had large shoulders, and the head of a wolf. It raised its muzzle and sniffed the air, tasting it for the scent of the three figures that had been in the clearing minutes prior.
After a moment, it bared its teeth, and howled, loud and long, towards the dual moons. Then it raced away into the trees, in the same direction the third figure had gone.
And yes, I know this is extremely short. It's the prologue, people! Y'all should know by now that if it's a prologue, it's gonna be freakin' short!