Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim and/or Bethesda Studios! I am making no moneydollars from this! So pleease don't sue!
Beta'd by my friend Sinswhisper (Whom I love to pieces and gives ALL my huggles too! ^_^)
A/N:Sooooo yeah... this beginning part is kind of dark... It also might make some uncomfortable, but please believe me when I say this is necessary to plot. I had to write it like this because the idea wouldn't leave my head and the title wouldn't have made since otherwise. So bear with me! and brace yourself for a bumpy ride. It's going to be intense for a bit... but litter times will come I PROMISE! 3
Rise of the Dovahkiin: The Ballad of the Red Hand
Her mother tied her boots on too tight. Chedan winces with the final tug but, not wanting to have her mother scoff, says nothing. "Hurry, child, gather your cloak. You must be ready. The soldiers will be here-!" The remainder of the sentence hung loosely from Siona's lips as she turns her back to her only child and begins busying herself at their meager table, clearly disturbed by some recent event.
Chedan studies her mother's back for another half moment before sliding off her chair and following the instructions she had received, each step more painful than the last. She tried not to let it bother her, but couldn't keep from wincing with each step. Her mother tied her boots too tight!
Making her way to the back of the smallish cobblestone and straw hut, where mother and child shared a sleeping space Chedan spotted both her cloak and rucksack. The items were resting on her cot, on her side of the divider that her mother had erected in honor of her only child reaching eight cycles!
The divider itself was not at all complex, bits and pieces of various wood scraps the local carpenter had no use for, held together with bits of twine. Though it was ugly to look at it served its purpose, giving Chedan the appearance of privacy.
To Chedan the divider was a symbol of how much she had grown, that her mother felt she had matured enough that she would have given her own space.
Touching the divider fills the girl with a happy memory. Feeling the rough yet worn texture with the palm of her hands Chedan can almost see her mother busily constructing the divider, and smiling as she works.
Chedan sighs as the memory fades, grabbing up her cloak and pack, the girl turns away from a room divided and returns to her mother in the small kitchen.
As she returned to the main room, Siona confronted her daughter, taking the girls pack from her small hands. Refusing to say a word to Chedan, she begins thrusting various already prepared items into the tiny satchel, a determined expression on her face. The girl could do nothing but stare at the leather boots that covered her small feet, she made an attempt to wiggle life into her already numb toes. Her mother tied her boots too tight!
"Was protecting our village so wrong, mama?" Chedan asks tentatively in a small voice. "I helped mama!" She added, softly.
"You did help, yes, but with MAGIC of all things! And (as if that weren't dangerous enough) you did it in front of not only the Crown Elders, but in front of those blasted Forebearen as well. In fact, proud as your papa, you did it where all could stop and gawk at you!" Siona goes still as a statue, keeping her reply as short and concise as she is able.
Being Redguard meant that her mother was practically honor bound to keep her emotions in check and show no weakness in the public eye. Having knowledge of the events that would come from her daughters heroics didn't make the task of hiding the tears any easier. She knew she would lose her only child this day! To keep her emotions (and the visible shaking of her limbs) hidden from her child she steadied herself by focusing on filling and closing the small satchel.
Proud that her daughter stood up against foreign oppression, but scared of the consequences filled Siona with a personal anger. Not felt toward her child rather, an anger that she directed inward, for not having the strength or courage to do what she needed to do.
Letting the anger steel her will, Siona spun quickly around, grabbing the tiny shoulders of her only child, shaking them firmly.
"Why did you not come to me, child? Using magic was bad enough, but to tell the Elders that it was a Red Dragon who taught you. Visited your dreams and whispered honeyed words to you! Chedan, my poor sweet child, do you realize what you have done?"
In a last desperate act of love, knowing this would be the last time, she pulls Chedan close to her, tightly.
"My poor child, I wish you had come to me when the dreams first started, we could have found a solution. Now, I fear, it is too late!"
"The Red Dragon, mama. He asked me not to tell. Said it wasn't time yet. He said our people, The… The Ra'Gada would not understand." Chedan replies through wet eyes and heavy sobs.
The girl of eight cycles clings tightly to her mothers' skirts, depressing her mother's belly with her small dark-skinned head.
The cloak she once held lay sullenly on the floor, forgotten.
Tightening her own grasp, Siona raises her head to look past the meager straw ceiling of the hut (directing her gaze to the heavens above) and, closing her eyes, with a sigh begins to whisper a silent prayer.
'Tall Papa preserve her. My child knows not what she does. Honored Leki, Shield Maiden of our people; honored Onsi Sword Bringer of our people, watch over my child and guide her hand. Make way for my child HoonDing. Help her to find her way in life, for I have failed and am no longer able to guide her myself.'
Slowly pulling away from her only child, she asks her daughter to sit in the chair she was in earlier. The last two items she makes sure her daughter will have on her journey are a copy of The Book of Circles, and her father's ring. She hastily added these to the satchel and closed it.
With urgency behind it, shaking the door almost off its hinges, a thunderous pounding struck the ears of mother and child.
"In the name of Justice we demand that you present the heretic to us this instant! You will make haste, if you value the door to this hovel!" The voice on the other side was harsh, like gravel. Siona disproved of the tone, however (having no other recourse) she headed to the door. Mother and daughter shared one last glance, as the door slowly opened. Their time together was up; the Forebearers had finally come to claim the child, whose only crime was the use of the arcane!
Quickly, Siona took Chedan's hand and presented her to the guards, refusing to begrudge the men any possible satisfaction of seeing her breakdown in front of her only child. Fiery eyes glared at them from within the small doorway, accompanied by sneers and vehement speech. "So, is our little wench ready to accept a heretic's fate?" The Forebearen Commander licked his lips seductively as he reached for Chedan's arm. His grasp was like forged iron, the little girls arm would appear bruised for at least a week. As she was taken away from the security, that was her mother, and her home. Fear and tears blurred her vision. Two things she felt she would likely never see again.
"My daughter is ready, yes." Siona replies, restraining the fury that was slowly filling the empty hole in her stomach, the words leaving a sour taste in her mouth. It took all her strength to refrain from embracing her child, to return the one she dearly loved back to the security blanket she had created. That, or spit in their faces and slam the door shut!
The Forebearen Commander motions for one of his lesser officers to 'examine' the small rucksack, which her mother had lovingly packed. Nodding, the soldier forced the pack from the mother's tight grasp and, after practically forcing his way into their home, dumped the contents haphazardly onto the small table where mother and child had taken many meals.
Rifling through several articles of clothing, satisfied with his inventory skills he thrust the once neatly folded articles back into the leather pack. Hearing a muffled 'thump' (like a neatly wrapped package landing on a desk) followed by the distinct tinkling of metal on stone, the soldier stopped repacking the satchel and followed the metallic noise. A look of concern fell across Siona's features.
At the soldiers feet he found a piece of sackcloth, and a small green-glass forged ring. Instead of a jewel there was a hollowed out clear crystal filled with sand. (Unbeknownst to him, a precious heirloom from the sunken Isle of Yokuda.)
He knelt down to examine the 'hidden' items, quickly pocketing the ring. He then proceeded to check what had been hiding within the folded sackcloth. A book, sacred to the Redguard, 'The Book of Circles'.
As this was a sacred tome, and the girl was a heretic, the soldier knew that he should have presented (at least) the book to his commander, however he suddenly felt a sense of pride for the bravery the girl had shown in openly using magic to defend her homeland.
In what would appear a random act of kindness, he wrapped the book back in its cloth and placed it gently in the girls pack, turned back to his commander, nodded his approval of its contents, releasing the pack into the Commanders eager hands.
The Forebearen snorted loudly, looking down at the weeping child his vice grip held in place. "The sooner we get this 'M'kai' bitch off our soil the better it'll be for all. But first-." The Commander's venomous words trailed off as he turned from Chedan's mother, heading in the direction of the Crown Elder of Alik'r (the desert of Hammerfell).
Forcing a limping Chedan to heel and walk by his side, leaving his company, to attend to some unknown business. In a vain attempt at noncompliance, Siona stepped forward, only to be lost in a sea of gleaming armor-clad bodies.
"Where is he taking my child?" She could barely get the words out as she struggled past the wall of muscle. As she made it through the throng, one of the soldiers, (the one who had pocketed the ring) grabbed both of her wrists, held her firmly in place.
"What happens to the child is no longer any concern of yours, I suggest that you turn around and go back into your home. Forget that you ever had a child, it will be easier that way."
Disdain fueled the flames of anger her gaze struck the men with (like twin daggers) causing them to step into a defensive stance around her. Out of reflex, she reached a hand to the pommel hilt of her sword, slowly drawing it from the scabbard her husband, Taran, had given her as an anniversary gift. The soldiers do the same, eyeing the woman with contempt.
With sword drawn she lunged at the nearest guard. Deftly dodging a counterattack, she disarmed him and spun behind the stunned man, the curve of her blade held firmly against his throat.
'She was just a little girl, all alone, in the night!'' The woman thought to herself as she stood with her now captive audience, staring venom into their stunned eyes.
Chedan peers back in the direction of her mother, drawn by the sounds of a struggle, stifling the want to call out. She flails in a vain attempt to break her bonds and run back to her mother's side. Forgetting that her feet had long since lost all feeling, the girl loses her footing and plants her face into the dry rough earth.
"Stop dragging your feet, clumsy filth!" Jerking her painfully back to her feet, the tightened boots loosening just enough to cause the pins and needles of circulation to inflict itself on the heretic girl. "That's better. Wench, now walk!"
For a few more minutes that are painful, the forced march continued until they reached the hut of the Crown Elder's. Following some brief but muffled words with the standing guard, the door to the hut opens after which Chedan is led mercilessly inside, the Forebearer Commander standing stalwart behind her a visible twinkle in his eye and smile on his lips. His visage shows a sense of pride in doing his part to exact justice.
The commander barely even takes notice that the heretic on her knees before him has suffered several scrapes and the inhalation of sand, which caused her to cough spasmodically.
"Oh my sweet, sullen child, did I not warn you!" The Red Dragon, whose sultry and sickeningly sweet voice she had heard so many times in the realm of her dreams taunts at her now, as she sat rubbing the sand and blood from her hands and scratched up legs. She said nothing.
"…Make it fast, Elder. I would like to dispose of this filth as soon as possible." The voice of the Dragon had drowned out the terse greeting the commander and the Elder had quite obviously shared.
The Crown Elder of Alik'r frowned disdainfully at the commander, not appreciating the tone the impudent Forebearer had used to address a voice of authority.
The Elder greets Chedan's eyes with a concerned look on his face. 'This one is so young!' He took his eyes off the girl briefly, to peer into the heavens far above the thatch roof of his hut, as if to ask for the forgiveness he knew would never come. 'If only she hadn't mentioned the Red Dragon, we could have overlooked her grotesque display of The Magic. We could have shrugged it off as a trick of the enemy. Dammit!'
"Dear child, please stand up." He waits patiently as the small girl takes several attempts to comply, while the Forebearen Commander looks on, a smirk crossing his chapped lips. At least she could now feel her tiny toes.
Her daughter's screams filled the night air. Every ear within the Alik'r could hear the child's agony, and would mourn for another heretic found. Siona, her resolve weakening, let down her guard, shortly, but long enough for the soldier she held to slip from her grasp.
"Sounds like our 'gift' is doing what it is meant to. Silly little bitch." The armored muscled-puppet spat the words at Siona's feet as he reached for his fallen blade. The other soldiers present started to laugh menacingly. Though he managed to grab the hilt he would have some trouble wielding it (with his right hand at least) as searing pain shot through his chest, and blood began to splutter out of the grievous wound where his right arm used to be.
"That is my daughter, regardless of your silly heretic rituals, that you slander. Choose your next words wisely or, let Leki and Onsi bear witness, they will be the last you speak!" As the soldier attempted to posture into a sitting position the heirloom of Taran fell from its resting place and onto the blood soaked sands of the Alik'r.
Red filled her gaze as she watched the stolen ring fall from the thieves' pocket. She raised her sword, driving the point through skin and cartilage, and finally through the back of the man's neck and into the sandy earth. He laid there, a useless pile of twitching and writhing flesh. The connection between spine and brain severed the light slowly left his eyes, and Siona soon joined him in death. Several blades running through her soft tissue and bone like butter.
As the light died from her eyes, she swore she could hear both her loving husband and daughter. She smiled content in the knowledge that everything would be okay. She smiled knowing that when she enters the Far Shores, she will do so with her head held high.
Sighing resignedly, the Crown Elder of Alik'r stares at the little girl who sits before him, his watery eyes that have seen much (perhaps too much) drinking in her huddled and fragile form. Chedan was visibly shaking, frightened and unsure of what would become of her, but she managed to keep a stoic expression of indifference on her face. This silent act of terrified defiance marked her worth as one of the Redguard. Assuming she survived the trial set before her this very night, she would grow up stronger for it.
"Chedan, former daughter of Siona, and of the honorably departed Taran, on this, the 13th day of Sun's Dusk, of the fourth era in the year one hundred and seventy three; it brings me little joy to strip you of your Redguard heritage, and all rights and privileges hitherto. I name you 'Red Hand' and present you with the Heretic's Mark denoting such a title." The Elder paused briefly, supposedly to let the information and intent sink into the young girl's mind.
When he continued his voice was, perhaps, more official than it should have been. "Bind her and hold her in place." The Alik'r Elder motioned for the men guarding his hut to enter and assist the Forebearer Commander in his task.
The Commander, filled to the brim with joy busily (and with a great deal of unnecessary force) proceeds to bind the girls wrists and ankles. Chedan caught a glimpse of ecstasy in the man's eyes, and shuddered at the perverse thoughts that must have been going through his twisted mind.
"That will be sufficient, Commander. Thank you." The Elder was more worried about the girl injuring herself than causing an insult to the Forebearen Commander's intact ego.
Satisfied at the binding, if too tightly, he watched as his personal guard forced the girl to kneel, bracing her back with their knees. A left and right hand pulled back her head so from her position she had a decent view of the stars and twin moons that lit up the night sky (and seemed to her to shine extra-ordinarily bright).
With pounding heart, fear begins to take over as she watches the Elder turn his back to those in witness, accepting something from an unseen attendant. A bronze bowl, she cannot tell if it is empty when he turns back to the small congregation. In one hand, he holds the bowl, and in another an iron brand in the shape of an open hand. The Alik'r Elder looks; once again, toward the heavens offering a mumbled prayer for forgiveness doubtless, it would be unheard:
'Tall Papa, forgive me for what I am about to do. Forgive those in witness, should the girl not survive this ordeal I pray to you, Tu'whacca, grant this child a place among her kin on the Far Shores.'
The girl has visibly begun to cry, she longed for her mother's warm embrace.
"Steel yourself child." The Elder leaned down to whisper in her ear. He then turned to the guards responsible for holding her upright. "Make certain she keeps her mouth closed, with a modicum of restraint, of course." The last remark meant for the Forebearen Commander.
"From this night onward, should you ever again step foot within the Alik'r the people of Hammerfell will know you by the Mark you bear-." An overzealous Commander rudely interrupted the Elder's speech. "She is like an ill wind, The Bane of Tava, perhaps. A bad omen, as some would say. Label her the bastard mage of the Red Dragon." The Forebearen Commander spat so much ire it was amazing he did not start foaming at the mouth. Chedan flinches with every word, keeping a constant vigil on the Crown Elder and the iron hand he was preparing to hold to flesh.
"Are you quite done, Commander, one more unneeded outburst like that and I shall have you removed. You are beginning to make this a great deal more difficult than it really needs to be." Placing his temper in check The Alik'r Elder continues denouncing the heretic.
"You will no longer be 'Of the People' and you shall be treated as such." However, what must come next pained his humanity deeply; in fact, the only one in the room who seemed to salivate at the thought of this girl receiving a heretic's mark was the Forebearen Commander.
Unprepared for the excruciating pain that came with the application of the acid ink-laced iron across her face Chedan howled, fierce, low and guttural, like an animal being torn asunder. She attempted to struggle free from the pain, to no avail, the guards simply held her too tight. Suddenly she remembered her boots, how her mother had tied them too tightly earlier. Red became white, transformed into pitch black and then nothing, which slowly became the honey-strewn voice of the Red Dragon:
"Dear one had you simply taken heed of my warning this would have not happened to you. I told you they would do this. Fear of the unknown would turn you outcast. Failing to understand the great 'Gift' I have bestowed upon you, would lead them to Mark you in their own unpleasant way. Petty fools, the lot of them, they seek to destroy a power they cannot hope to comprehend. Endure this night, my child, and you shall awaken more powerful than any could possibly imagine!"
"Is it dead?" The Crown Elder took the stick from the Forebearen Commander, which he was using to poke the defenseless child, an irritated look crossing his aged countenance.
"The child merely rests. It's a travesty that one so young had to be so marked." The Elder tossed the stick aside and knelt beside the newly branded heretic, watching the child's hair lose its entire black Redguard coloring in favor of a platinum blonde hue. The change likely came from the small body compensating for so much stress.
As this change occurs, the air in the hut crackles and becomes almost too thick to breathe, causing every hair on all present to rise and send icy shivers down their spines.
"Take care on your way out of Hammerfell, the Gods are ever watchful. Once you are across our borderlands however, she is no longer anyone's concern."
A/N: So? What do you think? Please let me know! This is the start of a loooong epic storyline! So please R&R!
~A