Author's Notes: Okay...Obligatory opening sequence! Then there will be some jumping around of the timeline and more artistic license abuse. Who knows. Spoiler alerts will be given if they are needed. Thanks for reading!
Pain; it was all Djarfskald could notice. Pain radiated from her head and wrists, pulsating through her body. She forced her eyes open, groaning at the sudden glare of light. The first thing she noticed was that her hands were painfully bound; the second was that she was clothed. Djarfskald could only surmise that the Imperials had managed to catch up with her at the last moment, striking her down within arm's reach of help.
"Hey, you!" Djarfskald raised her head, finally realizing that not only was she being rocked back and forth by the movement of a cart but she wasn't alone. A blonde, bearded Nord sat across from her, dressed in the armor of the Stormcloaks. He smiled slightly, blue eyes still vivid despite their current state. "Finally awake!"
Djarfskald cracked a smile, "Unfortunately."
The man chuckled, tugging at his bindings. "You tried to cross the border? Walked right into an Imperial ambush. Same as us and that thief over there."
"Damn you, Stormcloaks." Those words were full of venom. Djarfskald watched as the dark haired man suddenly spat on the blonde, anger burning wildly in his eyes. "Skyrim was fine before you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy, and if they hadn't been looking for you I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."
The Nord shook his head, wiping his face with the back of his hand, "We're all brothers in binds now, thief."
"Shut up back there."
Silence fell for only a moment as Djarfskald looked at her companions. It was the man beside her that seemed rather out of place. The clothes he wore were different from the Stormcloaks and while he was bound like everyone else, the man was also gagged. The thief was eying the man too but the scrutiny wasn't one of curiosity but one of anger.
"What's the matter with him," the thief asked, kicking the space between the man and Djarfskald.
The blonde grabbed the thief, wrenching the man closer to him, "Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."
"The Jarl of Windhelm," Djarfskald shifted slightly in her seat to get a better look at Ulfric. "You're the leader of the rebellion!" There was a shift of emotion in the Jarl's eyes but nothing else changed about the man.
"But if they captured you…" The thief was released with a grunt, eyes wide as he looked at the world around them, "Oh gods, where are they taking us?"
The man across from Djarfskald hung his head, once more tugging at his bindings. "I don't know where we're going but Sovngarde awaits."
Those words echoed in Djarfskald's mind and she looked down at her hands. She studied the bindings for a moment but knew there was no use in trying to escape. There were too many Imperials around and she would be shot the moment she left the carriage. Nothing mattered at that moment; not the conversation between those in the cart or her revenge against whom ever set her up. All the hopes that Djarfskald had were now gone. Dreams of going to the bard's college or even buying her own farm were pointless in those moments. All of it was at an end.
"Girl, where are you from?"
Djarfskald glanced up. Despite their inevitable ends the man bore a smile. "My family owns a farm not too far from Whiterun."
The carts came to a slow halt.
"Why are we stopping?" the thief stammered.
Ralof sighed, "Why do you think? End of the line."
Djarfskald had barely noticed the town they were in, the walls rising high with towers looming over them. She spied the hooded man chosen to take their lives, built like a mountain and appearing even more foreboding standing beside a thin priestess. The moment to inquire about their whereabouts had passed, the others were slowly standing and leaving the carts.
"Let's go," Ralof said with wry smile as he caught Djarfskald's attention. "Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."
The thief paused for a moment, attempting to catch the attention of the soldiers, "No wait! We're not rebels."
Ralof hit the man in the back with his bound hands, "Face your death with some courage!"
The man wheeled around, "You've got to tell them! The girl and I, we weren't with you. It's a mistake!"
Guards stood around them in a large circle, weapons at hand and faces set with grim expressions. Djarfskald found herself sidling up to the blonde Nord that had been talking to her in the cart. She knew nothing about the man but he seemed calm in the midst of everything.
A woman looked them over before nodding at her companion, "Step forward as we call your name; one at a time."
The man chuckled softly, "The Empire loves their damn lists."
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."
"Ralof of Riverwood."
Djarfskald watched as the Nord left her side and once more she felt fear inch its way into her mind. She felt numb as she watched the thief step forward after his name was called only to try and run away. It was only a moment before the archers had their arrows sailing through the air, hitting their mark with ease. The thief let out a grunt as he fell to the ground, eyes wide and looking skyward; there was no movement to check him and there was little doubt of the need to.
"You!" Djarfskald's attention snapped back to the man before her, his fingers trailing over the list. "Who are you?"
"I am Djarfskald of Whiterun."
"You picked a bad time to return to Skyrim." Djarfskald had the urge to correct the man; she had never left Skyrim. The man pursed his lips as he looked through the names, "Captain, she's not on the list. What should we do?"
The woman frowned, "Forget the damn list. She goes to the block."
"By your orders, Captain." The armored Nord turned his attention back to Djarfskald, "I'm sorry but at least you'll die here in your homeland. Follow the Captain, prisoner."
Djarfskald made her way towards the group of prisoners, realizing that she was the only one wasn't wearing Stormcloak armor. She stood beside Ralof once more, the man glancing at her with a sad smile. All attention was on Ulfric, who stood before them all, being belittled by a well armored man.
"Who is that," Djarfskald whispered.
Ralof cocked an eyebrow in surprise, "General Tullius, Skyrim's military governor."
A strange call, sounding like the cry of a distant animal, seemed to echo eerily through the air, causing silence to fall amongst the town.
A lone soldier spoke what was on everyone's mind, "What was that?"
"It's nothing," General Tullius spat. "Carry on."
Djarfskald kept looked around, eyes finding shadows where they weren't. She ignored the priestess as she spoke only turning her attention back to what was before her as a Stormcloak moved forward. The man faced his death with a smile, his anger towards the Imperials spilling forth moments before the axe came down.
One of the women amongst the Stormcloaks cried out in anger, her voice mirrored by those of the Imperial soldiers.
"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof said solemnly.
The captain walked forwards, kicking the headless body aside before looking over the remaining prisoner. She locked eyes with Djarfskald for a moment and pointed, "The Nord in rags." Another cry caught on the wind caused her stop midstep.
"There it is again."
"Move prisoner."
With a deep breath Djarfskald stepped forward. She had no reason to be there. She wasn't part of the uprising. It was all a matter of chance. Djarfskald slipped to her knees and looked at the head lying in the basket. Had it not been for the guard pushing her down against the block she knew she wouldn't have been able to move. What disturbed her more then head beneath her was the warm blood that made the block slick.
Looking past the executioner Djarfskald studied the bright sky. She always thought that cloudy skies foretold death. A dark form floated high over head, wings spread wide as it coasted along. A new fear gripped her stomach as the strange cry ripped through the air once more; that was no bird. She watched that form grow closer, larger as the hooded man as he raised his halberd over head, the words of the Imperials around her lost in the confusion of her own mind. The creature landed on the tower, its very weight seeming to cause the world to shudder and sending the executioner falling. For a moment the world around Djarfskald seemed to grow still as the beast looked around from its perch.
"Dragon!"
Opening its maw the creature let out a roar that shook Djarfskald to the core. She pushed herself to her feet only to hear, and feel, the cry from the creature once more. Chaos was reigning around her as her vision cleared. The walls around her were shattered, fire burning as guards, townsfolk, and prisoner alike ran for safety.
"Djarfskald, get up!" Hearing her name shouted amongst the chaos, Djarfskald found Ralof taking hold of her arm. "The gods won't give us another chance. This way!"
The two raced across the destroyed courtyard, dashing into the open door of tower. Djarfskald pulled away from Ralof as the door was shut behind them. Stormcloaks were taking hold in the small room, tending to their wounds. Their eyes, though, were all focused on Ulfric as he ripped off his gag.
"Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing?" Ralof asked, a tinge of fear present even in his voice. "Could the legends be true?"
"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric ran a hand through his hair, seeming to collect himself as he looked at his soldiers and then around the room. "We need to move now!"
"Up through the tower," Ralof replied. Once more he reached for Djarfskald, pulling her ahead of the others. "This way, my friend!"
Djarfskald pulled her arm out of the man's grasp and hurried up the stone stairs. She could hear the dragon's cries from outside and the urgency of Ralof's voice behind her. The wall on her right suddenly flew inward, the pained shouts of the Stormcloaks overshadowed by the dragon's voice. Fire burst from the creature's open mouth, the wave of heat knocking Djarfskald backwards. As suddenly as the dragon had appeared it was now gone.
Ralof steadied her as he peered through the hole in the wall. "See the inn on the other side? I want you to jump through the roof and keep going."
The idea of jumping from building to building didn't sit well with Djarfskald, more so as her thoughts lingered on her poor escape from the Imperials. "What about you and the Jarl?"
"We'll follow when we can. Now go!"
There was little time to prepare as Ralof seemed to push Djarfskald. It felt more like she fell through the ruined inn, tumbling to the ground. She looked over her shoulder; Ralof was no longer in view. The cry of dragon brought a sense of urgency to the forefront of her mind and Djarfskald soon found herself stumbling into the decimated streets.
"Still alive, prisoner?"
Djarfskald spun around, coming face to face with the man who had called out the names of the prisoners. He moved infront of her, staring down the street as the dragon landed before a troop of soldiers. "Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." He glanced at his companions, a fellow soldier and a young boy. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."
"Gods guide you, Hadvar."
The soldier moved quickly, giving Djarfskald little warning as he ran through the streets. Hadvar slowed his pace as he turned towards an ally. "Stay close to the wall." Once more he picked up his pace but this time Djarfskald matched it. She hugged the wall, eyes on the man's belt; he had an unguarded dagger. She reached for it fingers so close before Hadvar dove to the side, the wing of the dragon suddenly slamming between them.
"Yol. . . Toor. . . Shul!"
Djarfskald heard words in the midst of the scream and the rush of flame from the dragon's mouth. There was no time to wonder if it was all in her mind as the Imperial soldier dashed down another street. While there were fellow Imperial soldiers around them, some wounded and others with their weapons drawn and eyes skyward, Hadvar did not stop. A man shouted that they were to retreat but those words seemed to fall on deaf ears.
"Ralof!" That name seemed to drip with venom as Hadvar shouted it. Djarfskald felt relieved to see the man unharmed and in on piece. "You damned traitor! Out of my way."
"We're escaping, Hadvar, and you're not stopping us this time."
The dragon flew low over head, its call thundering in the sky.
Hadvar frowned, "Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde. With me, prisoner!"
"Djarfskald, come on! Into the keep."
There was no point in weighing the options. Ralof had been kind to her from the moment she woke while Hadvar was to be a hand in her execution. She followed the blonde Nord into the keep, closing the door the best she could behind them. The sound of the dragon's cries still pierced her mind as she backed away with a pounding heart.
"Looks like we're the only ones to make it."
"What," Djarfskald exclaimed.
Ralof didn't seem to hear her, his eyes set on the motionless body that he crouched before. "That thing was a dragon," he murmured. "Just like the children's stories and the legends. The harbingers of the End Times." Ralof fell silent as he stood. With a sigh he lifted his head and looked at Djarfskald, "We better get moving. Let me see if I can take those bindings off of you."
It was the first time since they were in the carriage that Djarfskald realized the bindings were there. The rush of fleeing had numbed her body from the pain. Ralof produced a dagger, cutting through the rope with ease. He smiled slightly, "Better? You may as well take Gunjar's gear; he won't be needing them anymore."
Djarfskald knelt beside the fallen warrior. What nerves should have been present about taking items from a dead body weren't present. It wasn't something she was happy to admit but this wasn't the first time she had done such a thing. The boot and weapon were easily removed but she found moving the dead weight of the man's body difficult to work with while relieving him of his armor. Ralof took his time examining the room for a way out, giving her the courtesy of changing without feeling spied upon.
"Both gates are locked," Ralof explained. "And the only way to open that gate is from the other side."
Moving closer to the bars Djarfskald peered through. Shadows moved across the floor of the long hall before two shadowed figures appeared. "It's the Imperials," she whispered.
"Take cover."
Djarfskald mimicked Ralof, taking her position on the opposite side of the closed gate. Her fingers ached as she gripped the handle of the axe. It had been too long since she held such a weapon and she longed for the bow that was now lost. She held her breath as the gate rattled open, the female soldier from earlier barking orders at her underling.
It was the shine of the torch light on the helmet that made her move. With a war cry Djarfskald swung the axe with all her strength, the blade lodging itself in the soldier's neck. The man's sword, once in hand, clattered to the ground as he made a vain attempt to speak. She could feel the warm spray of blood coursing over her fingers as the man lurched forward. Despite her momentary spurt of speed she was unable to move away, being caught by the soldier as he fell.
"Die!"
Djarfskald readied herself for the stinging bite of the woman's blade but the soldier's war cry morphed into wet sputter. She looked up to see the woman ran through with an Imperial sword. The soldier's eyes were wide as she stared at the blade, her hands almost pawing at the object jutting through her chest.
Ralof grunted as he pulled the sword free of the woman, sending her tumbling to the ground beside her comrade. He tossed the sword aside, "Maybe one of them have the key."
"Well, there is no doubt now," Djarfskald sighed as she began to search the woman's body, "I am truly wanted for murder."
"Murder?"
Djarfskald smiled and held up a ring of keys, "If we make it out of here alive, Ralof of Riverwood, I might be inclined to tell you."
