This story is an attempt at improving my writing through practice. I do not know if I'll finish it or stop it along the way, but I'll see about updating whenever I can and if writing it is still fun and challenging. To keep things interesting, I'm changing certain things about Skyrim like the settlement sizes, characters, events, etc. Just to make it appear real-ish. This story will follow the main quest and the civil war. If everything goes crazy, then maybe I'll add in the Dragonborn DLC and somehow Dawnguard.

Please please please please please please and a billion pleases, critic my work. Although writing is a hobby of mine, I want to do it right. Hope you like the first chapter.

Chapter 1 - Helgen

The carriages and wagons squeaked and rumbled past the horse-mounted soldiers as they made their way through the mountain-side forest. Had someone told him that his first assignment on his homeland would've been the one to end the now short-lived civil war, he would've balked at the idea. But now, as he looked to his right and watched the carriages full of Stormcloak prisoners in binds and shackles, he held no doubt. It had been chance that they were alerted to rebel movement near the southern border cross by Imperial scouts, and with them lay the cause of this war that ravaged the land for the past few months.

Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm, was in the second carriage of the column. There he lay, with his gag still in place and his wrists in chains, a pitiful reminder of the ambush that tore through his small rebel force in the dead of night. General Tullius, the military governor of Skyrim, had led the attack himself, and surely enough, the small rebel force was shattered and the Jarl surrender without much of a fight. It was strange, as the man had been deemed the greatest threat of the lot and General Tullius had ordered to bring him down before he could use his voice to shout at them. His eyes focused on the gag still held in place, and remembered the stories about how Ulfric had used this magic to kill High King Torygg with his voice. A Shout, the Nords called it.

"Arvas, are you alright?" he heard, and Arvas Vitelius swung his head around to see Hadvar alongside him on his own horse. Hadvar, like him, wore a brigandine leather tunic with a pair of mail flaps that covered the shoulders. A steel helmet with cheek coverings covered his head and his shield was the same as his, a light kite shield mostly made out of wood with a steel frame.

"They said he could kill with his voice." Arvas responded, looking over at the defeated Jarl once again. What's stopping him from simply shouting away the gag?

"Aye, terrible thing. Trained by the Grey Beards themselves, only for him to use it for violence." With that, Arvas looked over at Hadvar with a raised eyebrow.

"So it isn't a weapon?"

"If the Grey Beards use it peacefully, then it doesn't have to be. I honestly don't know." Hadvar responded, and Arvas snorted, then sighed as he slid his hand under the cheek guard and scratched at his stubble. He'd heard of the Grey Beards' magic; it apparently made their voices so powerful that they chose to be mute, and used this power to meditate, or something close to that. Anyone he'd asked back in Bruma didn't know much about the reclusive men that live in the mountains.

"No, this can't be happening, this isn't happening!" Arvas overheard and he looked over at the carriage where the Jarl sat. There, along with the Jarl and other Stormcloak soldiers, was the thief they'd caught in their raid, with a face that clearly spoke of panic. He must've figured out his fate, and Arvas almost felt pity for him.

"The Empire is law. The law is sacred." He muttered the Imperial axiom, not needing a reminder of the punishment for rebellion against the Empire. Although the thief did not partake in any battle under the banner of the Stormcloaks, he was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Maybe we shouldn't have had taken him in with the rest." Hadvar said, and Arvas took a glance at him with a raised brow.

"A thief's a thief, difference is he's losing his head instead of his fingers." It was a cruel thing, Arvas knew that, but circumstances or perhaps the gods themselves did not favor the man.

"Make way!" he heard someone shout, and Arvas rode his horse to the side along with Hadvar and other horsemen, taking them off of the cobbled road and into the dirt of the woods. Just then, a trio of horsemen rode past in a hurry, and Arvas immediately recognized them. General Tullius along with two Imperial Guard escorts raced through the line until they'd reached the front-end of the column. Turning back on to the road, Arvas got a clear view of the reason the General had done so.

"We're here." He said, looking over at Hadvar.

"Thank the Divines." He said, before Arvas looked onwards, and saw that they were coming out of the forest and into the clear-cut fields of Helgen. Small farms and pastures surrounded the fort and the road ahead led straight into the stone walls of the fort. Imperial banners bearing the sigil of the Empire, were draped over the sides of the square towers that flanked the entrance, and it depicted Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time, soaring through a red sky. The reinforced wooden gate opened to welcome them, or rather, General Tullius, who immediately went inside despite the column still being in the fields.

"I guess we're not the only ones who miss sleeping in a warm bed." Hadvar joked, and Arvas gave a throaty laugh.

"Don't we all?" he responded, and he noticed that they were more than two acres away from the walls, which meant that he had time to kill. Arvas looked to his left, past Hadvar, and observed the small farms containing yields and gardens of vegetables, barley, and tubers being tended to by farmhands. To the right, he had the chance to see a large pasture containing livestock through the space in between the prisoner wagons. Beyond them lay a breath-taking view of the province of Skyrim as the terrain sloped downwards and revealed the valley created by another mountain range further away.

"Planning to retire this soon?" Hadvar asked suddenly, and Arvas sighed with a smile as he turned to face him.

"No, not yet. Probably after there's no more fight left in me."

"Spoken like a true Nord."

Arvas's smile grew as he looked over at his pale arm. Although his father had been an Imperial native to Cyrodiil, his mother had been a Nord, and it showed. His uncle told him he had his father's face and hair, but the stature, skin, and the eyes of his mother. He couldn't really know for himself, as he'd never met them.

"It shows, doesn't it? But I reckon I can still hold a sword well for twenty more winters." he said, looking upwards and towards the battlements to see the archers of the Imperial garrison with bow and arrow on hand as they watched over the column. They weren't taking any chances that might prolong the war any further.

"Don't sell yourself short, you're not that much older than me and there are men that can still fight like beasts after sixty."

Arvas gave a half-laugh, "You're joking?"

"Nothing constant practice can't solve, I hear." Hadvar said before the first carriage finally reached the gate. Here the road became considerably more stony, mud below the flagstones being replaced by gravel and immediately his horse began to walk faster as it became confident in its steps. A good change of pace, as the march north towards the fort they were now entering had been grueling, with neglected roads, fallen trees and the odd creature here and there. Just as they began to pass through the gate and the short tunnel, Arvas spotted General Tullius and his escort at the village's crossroad, still mounted on their horses and in front of a group of robed figures that were also on horseback. The intricate markings and finery in the robes left him no doubt who they were. Thalmor.

"What are they doing here?" he asked as he looked over at Hadvar, but his eyes got sidetracked as a crowd of villagers caught his attention. They were slowly pilling out of the wooden buildings and onto the street. And then the shouts came, some insults, others cursing them for the war the rebels had wrought. Just as it happened, the horsemen from the column began to dismount and formed up to create a thin line along the street to deter the crowd from wanting to beat the rebels.

"Hold positions around the prisoners." Arvas ordered to the horsemen assigned to him. Normally, he should've been in there to hold the citizens back, but he'd been part of the group tasked by the general himself to escort the wagons, and interesting enough, he was chosen to lead the group.

As they made their way down the street, he looked at Helgen's keep. It was large, with its own set of stone walls that provided a last line of defense if the outer walls fell. Its wide round tower provided a full view of the entire fort and even the fields outside walls, and he could see the sentries posted at the top watching for any signs of a rebel force that might've gone undetected to try and rescue their leader. Just like the gate, the tower was also draped in Imperial banners for all to see.

The stone-paved roads inside the walls were well-maintained and not neglected like the one they'd gone through in the mountains, and the houses along both sets of walls were well built with minimal signs of decay. One couldn't clearly know if Helgen was either still a fort or a proper village. Imperial maps still listed it as a fort, but the fields outside the walls and the people shouting obscenities at the rebels said otherwise. Of course, maintaining the fort was the livelihood of these people, which made them wholly Imperial in allegiance, even if they were Nords. Arvas was sure some of them even worship Talos.

But the people of Skyrim were a divided. The Nords are a proud people, giving value to their own traditions and customs, not to mention autonomy and self-determination. Humiliation followed as the White-Gold Concordant was put into effect and the banning of the worship of Talos had shaken the society in Empire as a whole, especially the Nords. This led to the rebellion that had started some months ago, with the death of Skyrim's High King and half of the holds in the province declaring to be part of the Stormcloaks. It was because of this that General Tullius had been given four legions to restore order in Skyrim and bring the traitors to bear the full extent of Imperial law.

Just as they were reaching the next set of gates to the keep's courtyard, General Tullius and his escort returned, this time on the other side of the column. "General Tullius, sir!" a steel-clad Imperial soldier posted beside the open gate called, "The Headsman is waiting!"

"Good, let's get this over with!" the general said before heading into the courtyard, and Arvas couldn't help but hear the prayers coming from the second carriage. Sure enough, it was the thief. They stopped before the gate, as it was too narrow for both the horses and the carriages to pass through at the same time, and Arvas spent the time watching the soldiers, now augmented by the better armored men of the garrison, keeping the villagers at bay. As the last of the wagons began to pass through, the crowd began to disperse and the soldiers began to regroup and form up. Arvas and his group began to pass through the gate, following the last wagon, and entered the spacious courtyard of Helgen's keep.

General Tullius, a stern-faced man with short grey hair, met him at the other side, surprising Arvas.

"Count them in and make it quick." He ordered, before he gestured towards the keep's entrance, where a steel clad Centurion was talking to the Headsman. "Captain Scinon will accompany you."

"Yes sir, general." Arvas responded with a salute, a fist from his right hand bumping his left breast, and nodded towards Hadvar. "Got the list ready?"

"I do." he said, tapping the small book on his pouch that was slung from his shoulder.

"Good." Arvas responded, tapping his horse once to move it forward with Hadvar in tow. As they continued on towards the wagons and out of earshot from the general, he continued, "Hope no one's escaped. Otherwise I'm dead."

"Always the nervous one." He heard Hadvar remark, and he let it drop.

The carriages stopped in front of the far wall and the prisoners were being dismounted by the steel armored soldiers from the garrison. The Centurion was with them, the dragon-shaped crest on her helmet making it distinct enough to notice who was in charge. General Tullius's own lightly armored troops were now dismounted and positioned near the walls and gates to oversee the proceedings and to deter any prisoner from making an attempt, while Arvas and Hadvar dismounted their horses and joined the Centurion who was giving out instructions to the prisoners in the form of yelling.

"-after you've been called, you will walk over to the block." She finished as they arrived, and Arvas saw that they might as well be here all day long. They were at least four dozen prisoners, and so he glanced over at the general, his steel muscle cuirass enameled in bronze and ornamented with gilded wings made it easier to single him out from his heavily armored guard. They needed to make this quick.

"You four, come here." He called the horsemen from his group that followed them, "General Tullius needs this done as quick as possible." The men who'd been part of the escort dismounted their horses before Hadvar as he gave them the lists pertaining to the lot of prisoners that lay waiting.

"Right, let's start." Hadvar said, and started to recite the names that he'd written when they had captured them all the night before. It was a way to ensure that all prisoners were accounted for, although there were issues such as the prisoners themselves not being willing to step out when their name was called. As Arvas looked at them, he noticed their disheveled looks. They were stripped of their armor with only a tunic to cover them, and they were still filthy from having to sit in the dirt when they were being tallied up.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." Hadvar called, and the gagged, Nord noble stepped out. Unlike the others, the Jarl was allowed to keep his clothes sans his armor, a privilege only granted to generals and nobility. Murmurs erupted from the rebels, most being praises of serving under him. "Ralof… of Riverwood." He said next with hesitation.

"Hadvar, I hadn't know you joined the Legion." One of the Nords, a tall, fair-haired man said as he stepped forward.

"Yeah, well, some of us appreciate Imperial rule." Hadvar responded, and a legionary took the Nord by the shoulder and led him towards the growing group of prisoners in front of the block.

The man sighed, then called once again, "Lokir, of Rorikstead."

"No, no!" the slim man, or rather, the thief, said as he stepped forward, "I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" The thief looked at them with wide eyes, and Arvas swore he could see streaks of dirt smudged by tears on his face. He looked at Hadvar for a moment, but that had apparently been enough for the thief. He should've seen it coming and he did not have the time to react properly when he suddenly heard rapid footsteps heading towards him. He raised his shield by instinct, and was knocked back for his trouble as the Nord toppled him. He grunted when his head impacted the paved ground, followed by a rush of cold air on his short hair.

"Halt!" Captain Scinon shouted, "Archers!"

Arvas stood on a crouch, and, as he looked up towards the fleeing Nord, an arrow embedded itself on his back, followed by another one that struck on his lower back. The thief gave a cry of pain with his bound hands seemingly reaching for the sky, then fell to the road in a thud. Arvas accepted Hadvar's helping hand before looking back at the thief, then the stone walls. A group of archers were positioned at the top of the wall, and one of them waved at him. He waved back, before turning towards the prisoners.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The captain taunted, and when no answer came from the remaining Nords, she looked over at Hadvar. "Continue."

"Yes, sir." Hadvar sighed, and Arvas took the time to collect his helmet that still lay on the ground. Once again Hadvar counted the names, this time without issues, and it only took about a minute before they were all in front of the block thanks in effort to the other men Hadvar had given the lists to.

"Good. You two, come with me." The Centurion said as she turned towards General Tullius.

Arvas nodded, and Hadvar followed along. He briefly thanked the Divines for the leather padding inside the helmet before he replaced it back on his head, and then he heard it. A distant roar far off into the south-east that made him look up towards the mountains that peaked above the walls.

"What was that?" Hadvar asked out loud, stopping beside Arvas.

"It's nothing," General Tullius replied, now dismounted and standing with his guards near the block, "continue."

"Yes, General Tullius." The captain replied with a fist on her chest plate, before nodding to a golden-robed priestess. Arvas and the other legionaries hurried to their positions in front of the keep's entrance and stood at attention as the priestess began to speak.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the-"

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" a Nord spoke up, stepping forward towards the block. This took Arvas by surprise, as the prisoner stopped in front of Captain Scinon and she grabbed him by the shoulder. "Come on! I haven't got all mornin'!" he shouted and Arvas shook his head. The Centurion made him kneel and then placed her foot on the prisoner's back, forcing his chest to the block. "My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials, can you say the same?!" he demanded, just before the Headsman, a tall broad-shouldered man wearing a black mask, lifted his long and heavy axe and swung it downwards. The head came off clean, and the side of the block was stained with blood that spurted out of the stump.

The rebels shouted insults at the Imperials and Arvas saw General Tullius between his heavily armored escorts, shaking his head. "Alright, that's enough. Captain, now."

"Yes, General Tullius!" she said before calling, "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm!" The man stepped forward, his long fair hair dirty and his garb littered with specks of dirt.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," General Tullius started with braced arms, "the people of Skyrim call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like The Shout to murder his king and usurp his throne." The brows on the Jarl's face furrowed and Arvas barely heard him grunt under the rag. "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace you destroyed!" the general declared, and the captain grabbed the Jarl's shoulder.

There was another distant roar, this one seemingly nearer, and it made every horse whine and every legionary look up into the skies. Arvas scanned the mountains once again, not sure what to look for, then shook his head. It could've been a distant creature.

"Let's not waste any more time." General Tullius said at last, breaking the silence that the roar had brought.

Captain Scinon kicked at the back of Ulfric's knees, forcing him downwards before placing her foot onto his back. She pushed him onto the block, but the Headsman was still looking upwards to the sky. A horn sounded at the top of the keep's tower, and Arvas sighed. Looks like they're trying to free their leader. Too late for that.

"Continue!" demanded the captain, and the Headsman snapped back into attention. He lifted his axe, but the roar came back, louder this time, and the horn sounded once more.

"Sentries, what do you see?!" General Tullius demanded in frustration, and Arvas looked up towards the tower.

A soldier peeked over the battlement, a shadow against the brightness of the sky as he screamed, "Dragon!"

Update

Updated parts of the story I wasn't happy with and changed some things around. Changed legionnaires to legionaries as the former is the French rendition of the latter.