Chapter 2 - Where Things Go From Bad To Worse, And Keep Going Further Downhill
So no shit, there I was, about to be executed by my own people, for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, in a foreign land, on my 20th birthday no less... and a Dagon-damned dragon, quite possibly one of the first seen in the past thousand years, had just flown around the mountain, landed on the stone tower, sent the executioner's axe flying a bit too close to my neck for comfort, and was now observing the group I just happened to be a part of, probably just to watch me die.
Forget life not being unfair, at this point I was half sure (and rapidly approaching three-quarters sure) life and the Nine had a particular interest in making me suffer as much as was humanly possible in what I was certain was the last few moments of my life. Didn't matter how slender and exotic this black dragon looked, at this point I just knew that this was going to make my prematurely-shortened life more complicated. My optimistic viewpoint was proven completely correct when, mere seconds later, the black dragon roared (a most primal, guttural, and yet distinctly feminine shout, my primitive hind-brain noted... apparently I needed to get laid more, I was projecting feminine qualities unto a giant bloodthirsty creature that was supposed to have been extinct for over a thousand years...) and, I kid you not, flaming meteors began falling from the sky.
I'd been thrown in jail, backstabbed by members of the Thieves Guild, literally stabbed by a poisoned Morag Tong blade, and been charged at by a rabid bear with my pants down, but this day was really something "special". I couldn't even say this day took the cake, or it exceeded my most cynical expectations; that would have been when I found myself in the same cart as the leader of the Stormcloak Insurrection, being taken to be executed, just for crossing the border the same time as he had. Words, for the second time this day, failed me, for I had no way of adequately describing just how horrible of a position I was in. But for a brief, objective summary, I was bound, kneeling at the headman's block, a massive bloody axe mere centimetres from my neck, a decapitated head next to my right ear, a dragon staring down at me, and oh, did I forget to mention, the meteors raining from the heavens around me?! There might have been worse positions for me to be in, like having a portal to Oblivion opening right in front of me while I was relieving myself in an outhouse, but this definitely had to be near the top.
"Hey, Imperial! Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" The Stormcloak Lieutenant I'd been on the cart with, Ralof, called out to me, and I finally tuned out my optimistic musings and the battlefield, the screams of dying men and the smell of burning flesh and flaming rocks, to take in my surroundings. Ralof was right; the legionnaires and guards were too distracted with the dragon to care about some mere prisoners, and the headsman had been killed where he fell, unlucky victim of a meteor. Not that I'd mourn him, of course, but that meteor had been way too close for comfort. More importantly, I finally saw a way out. My relentless optimism, coupled with a healthy dose of adrenaline, fuelled my legs as I pushed myself off the ground to an awkward standing position, and sprinted for a nearby tower that the other Stormcloak prisoners had taken refuge in.
As I caught my breath in the relative safety of the tower, my eyes took in the supposed top echelons of the Stormcloak Insurrection as they discussed the dragon, and I found myself unimpressed and wondering just how they'd been giving the Empire so much trouble. Sure, a few like Ralof and the Jarl Ulfric carried themselves like veterans, and sure, most of them were nursing their assorted cuts, bruises, and burns, but still, I'd seen better soldiers amongst the Auxillaries I had trained with, all those years ago. "Let's go! With me, up the tower!" Apparently their discussion had ended. Had to say, though, I was ambivalent by their choice of action. On the one hand, recon and intel was important when surrounded by enemies and facing a hostile that was virtually unknown, but on the other... well, if our escape was cut off, how would we get out? Jump? And on a side note, I thought to myself as I followed Ralof up the tower, would it behoove them to finally cut my bindings?
Reaching the first landing, our entire plan of "up the tower" was immediately made obsolete by the fact the staircase was blocked by rubble. Naturally. For Dibella's sake. "We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way!" Yeah... I think you need to rethink your idea of 'some' there, Mr. Random Stormcloak. Well, at least 'some' action was better than sitting around with our thumbs up our asses, I supposed. Before I could turn to Ralof and ask for my hands to be free so that I could actually assist, the wall Mr. Random Stormcloak had been next to flew inwards, as if struck by a battering ram. Or, apparently, the black dragon's head. And just in case there was any doubt that Mr. Random Stormcloak survived being flung into the wall and crushed by the rubble, the overgrown lizard sent a jet of fire spewing at the pile of rubble, before flying away.
No time to wonder about what on earth his existence could have done to offend the lizard, there was no way we could move all this rubble anymore, even if it hadn't been super-heated. Definitely time to think of Plan B. "See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!" Alright, time to consider Plan C. Seriously, Ralof, are you mad? "Go! We'll follow when we can!" Basically, you're using me as a test to see if one could survive the jump? I trusted you, Ralof! I thought we were prison cart buddies! At least free my hands so I could use them to help me land! Before I could say anything, though, I heard the dragon roar in the distance, and was suddenly enlightened by the fact that jumping about a few metres without use of my hands was only slightly less dangerous than standing in what was full view of, say, an overgrown flying lizard, and decided to go with Plan B.
While I had some experience with jumping from heights in the Imperial City, like rooftops, jumping from the tower with the aim of landing on the second floor of the destroyed inn via the hole in the flaming roof without having my hands free was definitely a novel and unwelcome experience. At least my luck held out, though, as did my kneecaps, and from there it was child's play to get to the ground floor, where I came across the Nord Legionnaire, Hadvar, coaxing a child away from his injured father and behind some rubble, before the dragon landed in front of the man and cooked him alive. Handing the boy over to an older man, Hadvar finally noticed me, and remarked: "Still alive, Prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." Yeah, I thought to myself, as he told the older man, Gunnar, to take care of the boy. This guy really ain't that bad. "I have to find General Tullius and join their defense." I stand corrected, he's probably insane. But there was no way I was passing up a meat shield, especially one that had a sword, and so I made to follow him. "Gods guide you, Hadvar," Gunnar wished him well, and I found myself hoping that maybe that'd spare some of that guidance for me. "Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar called out, and I instinctively flung myself against the wall, as the black dragon landed atop it and roasted a nearby archer. Damn, I owed the guy one now.
'Their defense', as it so turned out, was going about as poorly as holding an amulet of Talos in front of a Thalmor Justiciar. The parts of the city that weren't collapsed or rubble were in flames, and I think they all knew it was pointless to attempt to continue a defense. "Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!" Most sensible thing I've heard all day, I could clearly see why Tullius was a general. Luckily, nobody was questioning what I was doing with Hadvar, or why I was following him. Hadvar's retreat, and by extension mine, sadly hit a minor snag when we ran across Ralof and a few Stormcloaks, also heading for the same keep. Before they could trade any more than a few verbal jabs, the dragon landed behind us, and I saw it's jaws open wide. Heart racing, I made to take cover behind Hadvar. However, as was entirely consistent and expected for this birthday, fate decided to screw me over again. Not only did I step on a splinter and trip on some ash, knocking Hadvar over, but my movement attracted the dragon's attention, and I swore I saw a glimmer of realization in it's eye, before hearing a roar of "FUS RO DAH!". Instead of seeing a jet of fire approach me, I saw the air in front of me ripple and distort, with the distortion quickly growing closer, before I was picked up off my feet and thrown into open door of the keep.
As I found myself flying through the air, for the second time that day, I swore I heard the dragon roar in fury, before feeling as much as hearing it proclaim: "Hin sil fen kos dii, Dovahkiin!" No idea what that meant, or who this 'Dovahkiin' was, but that sure sounded ominous. While I was sure I'd probably be able to draw my own conclusions if I had time to ponder and research, that was pretty much an impossibility at this time. My flight was quickly cut short, taking my line of thought with it, as I slammed into the keep's wall, before tumbling down the staircase, bouncing off the landing, breaking my fall in a barrel of empty bottles, and finally falling into blessed unconsciousness.
Happy birthday, ol' Marius.
Author's Note: When I said this was going to be Dovahkiin/Harem, I figured what better way to start than with having a Female Aldiun? The only way I could literally be more gratuitous would have been to gender-bend every character from Ulfric, to Hadvar, to Jarl Balgruuf "Ballin'" the Greater, and I have neither the insanity nor the talent to pull off such a feat. Also, while I could see why, from a narrative and gameplay standpoint, being bound throughout Helgen was done, I could never figure out in-universe why nobody just took the time to cut the bindings and get an extra pair of hands to help out. But then again, I'm just a shitty writer.
Translations:
Hin sil fen kos dii, Dovahkiin - Your soul will be mine, Dragonborn