This took long. Too long. I'm awful. Don't hire the Dark Brotherhood!

I hope I got the style again. If not, then it's just character development. Wrote it while listening Castle of Glass.

Four years later, on a morning in autumn, I sat on a cart and waited to die.

After I had donned Stormcloak blue, life had become better. Although I was young, I was good at fighting and even at killing. Miraak was always at my side, strong and steady. In battle, his shouts saved my life more than once – "Behind you!", "Watch out!", "Arrow!", "Strike! Now!" – and when it was over, his whispers drove the men I had slain from my dreams.

My comrades were just like the children from Riverwood. I tried to make friends with them, but eventually gave up. Miraak was the only person I could talk to, and after half a year in the army, I didn't care about other people being present any more. I was stronger than in Riverwood; they could not beat me and their insults didn't hurt that much. According to Galmar Stone-Fist, the soldiers were calling me 'Ice-Vein'. I was pretty sure he was either nice or deaf; 'Ice-Brain' was more likely my title. As good as I was – I never got my own commands but served under others, mostly in the vanguard when we attacked forts. This had been my first escorting mission and would be my last.

We were ten soldiers to bring Ulfric Stormcloak out of the country. We failed completely. At Darkwater Crossing, the Imperials had laid a trap, and we walked into it like dumb beasts. Half of us were slain before the Jarl told us to yield.

Helgen was not far away. Our trip would soon come to an end. Our lives too.

On my cart were three men. Leif had already passed out; he would probably be dead when we reached our destination. The steady trickle of blood from his maimed shoulder had nearly faded and he was paler then the snow. Gunjar whispered prayer after prayer. Soren looked calm, but his eyes betrayed him. He didn't notice that he had bitten on his lip so hard that tiny red drops mixed with the already half-dried blood from the huge gash on his forehead.

I tried to pray. After four years fighting in Talos' name I probably ought to know a few prayers. But my head was empty. So I settled on the old sing-song:

Here in my temple

Here in my shrine…

"You will not die today, little girl."

I smiled at him. "You haven't ever lied to me, Miraak. Don't start now."

Soren stared at me angrily. "Damn you! Can't you stop that nonsense? This Maki or whatever doesn't exist. At least on the day of our death you could leave us alone with this madness. Sheogorath take you!"

Miraak ignored him. He sat between me and half-dead Leif. "I never lie. You will live past this day."

I sighed but didn't answer. Instead I looked at the sky. We had been caught in the middle of the night and now the dawn came. While the carriage rocked under me, I watched the rising sun. Ruby red, then pink and finally gold touched the grey clouds above and a few rays of light even broke through them. A good day to die.

We drove through the woods and then, just as the gold faded, we came to Helgen. It was an old, small village at the foot of the Throat of the World. Due to its thick walls and huge fort, it had always been an Imperial outpost, even more important than Dragonsbridge. Riverwood was only a few miles away.

I looked around. Some of the faces I knew from my childhood. Ingrid with the golden hair, whom Ralof had had a crush on. Vilod, owner of a small meadery. He sold his products only in Helgen and Riverwood. Matlara and Torolf, with their son Haming. All stared at us with an impossible hatred.

We stopped and a soldier called one name after the other. Leif didn't get up again.

At the second cart – it held Ralof, Ulfric Stormcloak, a frightened Khajiit and a horse thief – chaos started. The thief tried to run away, but three arrows hit him in the back. After a moment, the routine returned – names, notes, execution place.

Suddenly, I heard a noise. A distant roar, like something had just been freed. Others turned their heads as well. I rose my glance to the sky, some instinct told me to look up there for the source of the sound.

"So the end begins", murmured Miraak. "I have to go now, little girl."

"Wait…" But he had already vanished.

Although this was my execution, I didn't pay attention to the priestess' words. Instead I searched the blue above for the roaring beast. Soren's voice brought me back to reality: "Come on, I don't have all morning!"

He kneeled down in front of the wooden block, and while the Imperial general forced his upper body down, he grinned at her defiantly: "My ancestors smile down at me, Imperial. Can you say the same?" The axe silenced his quick tongue with a sickening crunch forever.

Next was the Khajiit, a female with huge, frightened looking blue eyes and fur in the colour of winter's light. Soren's blood seeped into it as she laid her trembling head on the wood. The axe fell, her tail twitched a last time and it was over.

The life of Ralof – he was from Riverwood, like me and Hadvar, who stood next to the general – would find his end now. Head up, back straight, he walked to the block like a true Nord.

He never reached it.

The roar thundered again, not far away but deafening and – above! The winds of the beast's wings hit me as it landed on the tower. The screams of the guards and my thoughts said the same:

A dragon!

Cliffhanger! This was short, but at least I managed to post it today. Sorry sorry sorry for all delay. Half-year-break starts in a week, I'll get a new chapter!