I'll be now trying for longer chapters, a minimum of 2500 words apiece. I hope you all enjoy this rewrite. I'm a bit more dramatic with this story, and won't actually be appearing until a few more chapters in. Right now we'll be following the journey of a soldier and captain of the Imperial Legion as the Empire is being slowly pushed out of Skyrim and the Stormcloaks gain more and more ground.
Alduin has yet to be defeated and most of the Holds are now under Ulfirc's banner. Only Solitude, Markarth and Morthal remain in Imperial control. Most of the forts are still under bandit control with a few under Stormcloak and Imperial control.
The Dragonborn fights for the Stormcloaks and has walked the 7,000 steps to High Hrothgar. She's spoken with the Greybeards but has yet to meet with Delphine.
Like I previously stated, I (as in my SI) won't appear for another chapter or so. Whether I'll support the Stormcloaks or the Empire is yet to be seen.
Becoming a Legend
The soldier shakily reached out and downed his previously forgotten ale. He couldn't believe he had been serving under her for so long, not realizing who she was. The blade was a true legend of Tamriel; an artifact almost two hundred years old. Despite many attempted thefts and assassinations, the Flame of the West had never left the Lost Saint line. Even when the family name had all but died out, a new unknown member would appear with the fabled blade in their hands. Not many remembered his descendents; but no one would forget the blade of the hero-turned-traitor, and then later revealed as a hero once more, the Champion of Cyrodiil…the White Rider.
"Burn the land and pour the sea,
You can't take the sky from me…
You can't take the sky from me."
Chapter 2 RE – And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies."
"Archers! Loose!"
A hail of arrows pelted the would-be attackers crossing the Dragon Bridge. It had been less than a fortnight since the soldier and captain had spoken that night and already the rebels had tried forcing their way across the open bridge to the Imperial defensive line. Not one made it across this time but the Stormcloaks had almost succeeded less than a week ago.
The Dragonborn, a tanned Nord woman clad in Ancient Nordic Armor had nearly blasted through using the Voice to force the gates open. The Stormcloaks swarmed over the bridge and nearly overwhelmed the Legion. The battle would have continued in their favor had it not been for the heroics of the captain herself. She charged the Dragonborn head on, keeping the woman on the defensive long enough for the Legion's reinforcements to arrive. The new troops were able to chase off the red beast, forcing the rebels and their champion to retreat back across the bridge. The reprieve was short-lived as the Stormcloak catapults launched several boulders towards the town, injuring several soldiers, three civilians and destroying two houses. Adding to the gaping holes in the defensive walls, the Legion had taken a beating that would keep them hurting for a while.
Today was just the latest attempt by the Stormcloaks. The soldier ducked behind the wall as a hail of arrows rained upon them; they retaliated with not only arrows but also more than a few Firebolt, Ice Spear and Lightning Bolt spells from the imperial mages. Peeking out, he nocked an arrow and loosed it smoothly; the shaft flew true and speared a Stormcloak in the shoulder, knocking off the bridge and into the watery rapids below.
"Good shot soldier."
Still crouched behind the wall, the soldier whirled around and found his captain crouched with a bow out as well. This had been happening a lot lately. The woman would often appear near him at the oddest of times, regardless of whether it was in the middle of patrol or during battle. It was both refreshing and rather discerning to say the least.
"Thank you Captain. Wh-"
The soldier was cut off when a particularly powerful spell struck the wooden palisade he was crouched behind, sending both captain and soldier down to the ground. Shaking the dirt and stars from his head the soldier tried to get up, only to find a somewhat heavy body on top of him. Opening his eyes he found that the captain was laying over him, still trying to get her bearings. The soldier tried to speak but was silenced by the next round of spells blasting the ground around them and the sight of the gates starting to collapse. The Stormcloaks were pushing through!
"Ma'am, the gates!"
The captain snapped awake and flung herself to her feet, already rushing towards the now-opened gates. The soldier and several others ran after her, slamming steel to steel with the invading rebels. He lost track of the captain in the thick of it, her sword flashing as she slew Stormcloaks one after the other. He would have admired the way she danced around the rebels' blades if not for the few that were still trying to take his head. The soldier had barely finished his own fights when he saw the captain struggling against four rebels who had cornered her against the still-standing palisade. With nary a thought, he rallied two others and rushed to her aid.
The men were celebrating their victory. Once again they had managed to push the Stormcloaks back and it was all thanks to their fiery haired captain. The feast was messy, meager and mostly burnt, yet the meat and ale couldn't have tasted better. The soldier looked around him and saw his comrades reveling in their own ways.
Farid, the Redguard hailing from southern Cyrodiil was busy exploring the hidden treasures of one their female comrades while Eirik, the overly-muscled Nord was in the midst of a drinking contest with several others. The soldier sighed in content, glad to see that the few friends he had left were well and enjoying themselves. He had barely started on his mead when a near boneless body flung itself onto the bench beside him, toppling over several empty tankards and half eaten trays. He turned his head and was greeted by the sight of a very drunk, very red-faced captain.
"C-captain?!"
It was strange to see the normally strict woman like this. Most of the time the captain had a stern countenance about her with a few mysterious half-smiles thrown in after a victory. To see her so deep into the mugs was a rare sight; even more so to see her in a dress! Her face was alight with joy and her whole presence screamed drunk!
"H-hic-how gum…con…cone glum?"
The slurred question was easy to decipher, having grown up in Riverwood with a few others many times worse when half as drunk as she.
"I'm not sad captain. I'm quietly happy for everyone being alive and it's all thanks to you."
The woman snorted as she half spilled, half drank her tankard. Most of the honeyed mead spilled onto her dress, leaving the soldier with a clear view of her trim body beneath. He blushed at the wet and near transparent blue cloth, barely able to take his eyes away. By the time he did, he found the captain staring at him with a smug look on her face and a wry smile on her lips. She licked her lips yet he was the one suddenly dry in the mouth.
"Emjolin' you-seph?"
He sputtered hastily, trying to apologize for his blatant staring when she cut him off rather handily. With a smoldering kiss and a drunken grope to his crotch, the captain dragged the now shocked soldier to her tent. They did not appear until well into the next day with the captain walking around with a pronounced limp and a smile wide enough to send the soldiers into panic. The soldier appeared sometime later at his post beside Farid and Eirik. The two glanced at him curiously as he tried to fix his torn uniform. They said nothing about the tears in the chainmail or about the slices at the seams. After all, a battle had just happened yesterday. Neither commented on the fact that he had worn a new set of armor to the celebration instead of his battle-scarred one.
The soldier almost sighed in relief. At least until Farid broke and loudly inquiring who he had bedded. The salacious Redguard started naming every female soldier and civilian in Dragon Bridge. Their friend sputtered many denials, but especially when Eirik boisterously added the captain to the line-up. The two continued their activities until the captain herself suddenly appeared, stony countenance back in place. The two gulped audibly as she stepped towards them; they did sigh in relief as she bypassed them and headed straight to their shaking friend.
"You forgot this in my tent Hadvar."
The captain held out his sword as Farid and Eirik's jaws dropped at the revelation. Hadvar clumsily accepted not only his sword but a deep kiss from the captain before she swaggered off, a deliberate and exaggerated sway in her step. The whole courtyard had gone silent. At least until Farid choked out,
"You bagged Captain Arturia?! How are you still alive?!"
The rest of the troops silently asked the same question.
"I'm being promoted?!"
Hadvar stood before captain Arturia. He had been promoted for his service, despite his severe misgivings.
"But, I couldn't poss-"
He was interrupted by the woman's pointed glare. Rocking back on his heels, Hadvar listened to what Arturia had to say.
"Orders came straight from Gen. Tullius and Legate Rikke themselves. They needed some new officers to help secure the chain of command and the men unanimously voted to suggest you as a choice. We need men like you to keep the troops' morale high. There's no point in fighting for a country when none of the locals are on our side. With more skilled Skyrim-born officers like you in the ranks, we'll be able to keep more troops from defecting to Ulfric's rebels."
"*sigh* I understand Cpt. Arturia."
The woman tossed a heavy steel officer's helm at him, a playful smirk on her face.
"None of that Hadvar, we're equal in rank now. It's Arturia from you, got it?"
Hadvar sighed again and nodded his head. He needed to get his things and move into his new quarters.
Roughly three days after Hadvar's promotion.
A freak blizzard had struck the town, forcing the Legion and Stormcloak troops to seek shelter within their respective encampments. Those that remained on guard duty were particularly miserable, being assaulted by icy winds and sheer walls of snow. Within the Dragon Bridge Inn, most of the Legionnaires huddled in groups around the roaring hearth, exchanging stories and gossip to pass the time.
"...-chopped clean through his shield with a single slice! Never saw such a sight in my life!"
"...Captain Arturia has been in battles all over Skyrim. She's been here since the rebellion started."
"That blade of hers, I swear to Talos it shined brighter than any I've ever seen. Come to think of it, I haven't seen her take it to the grindstone once."
"Reckon it's enchanted; must be if it cuts through armor like a hot blade through butter."
Hadvar sighed as the men nearby gossiped about the fiery captain. He'd heard the stories before coming under her command and had seen her in action. The rumors do not do her justice. Hadvar had been about to return to his soup when he heard the next bit.
"Remember seeing the new captain, Hadvar at his post after the celebration? Looked like he took on a saber cat barehanded; word is that he went to bed with Captain Arturia and wasn't seen 'til late that afternoon. Armon swears he saw the Captain return his sword and practically shoved her tongue down his throat."
At this point Hadvar was red as an apple, his fellow officers smirking into their meals. A few of them glanced questioningly at the smug Arturia. She merely nodded with one of her blasted mysterious smirks on her face. A petite female soldier under their command almost dropped her bowl into the fire pit when Arturia held her hands roughly ten inches apart and glancing at Hadvar. Said Nord buried his head in his hands while the rest of the women stared at him; more importantly, at his crotch. He glanced up when he felt a hand pat his shoulder and saw Cpt. Arturia smiling at him.
"Relax Hadvar, tis not like they'll be jumping your bones anytime soon."
Hadvar almost smiled thanks to her reassurance, but the color quickly drained from his face when she ducked her head close, a decidedly lecherous smile on her face.
"After all, I claimed first dibs on you when you transferred under my command."
At this point, Hadvar tensed suddenly when he felt another pat, this time on his hindquarters…
"You're mine!"
Said crazy woman just returned to her former demeanor and chatted with the women around her, acting as if nothing had just happened. Hadvar paled dramatically. How'd he get into this situation? Sure the recruiters sold the idea of seeing the world, wooing foreign maidens and serving the Empire. They never said anything about semi-crazy female captains with officer-subordinate fetishes using soldiers under their command.
Across the Karth River in the Stormcloak Encampment…
"We drink to our youth, for the days come and gone.
For the Age of Oppression is just about done.
We'll drive out the Empire from this land that we own.
With our blood and our steel, we will take back our home."
Spirits were high despite the snowstorm outside their wooden fort. The 'true sons and daughters' of Skyrim had the Legion by the balls and they knew it. They sang and danced around the four hearths in the fort's main hall. After all, how could they not celebrate when they not only had the 'True High King' as a leader, but also the Dragonborn herself leading the charge?
"It's only a matter of time before we take Dragon Bridge. With Galmar leading the charge towards Karthwasten and Ulfric ready to march on Markarth, both Morthal and Solitude will fall just as the snow falls in Windhelm."
Tier silently scoffed at the arrogance the fort commander, a greedy Nord called Ragnar the Bloody. Despite being named for the false hero, Ragnar the Bloody had proven himself in many battles throughout the rebellion. Turning back to her ale, she stared glassily into the murky gold brew. It has been over two years since that fateful day in Helgen when that black dragon, Alduin had reappeared in Nirn.
She would always remember that day. The screams of the dying and the scent of burning flesh were scorched into her mind. Even now she could see the desperate dash through the Imperial fort and cavern beneath Helgen. If it wasn't for Ralof, she would likely have died that day.
Tier scowled at the thought of the Nord that saved her. She was very grateful to him but his constant pursuing of her was frustrating. She was fond of him as a friend but she had too many bad experiences with Nord men in the past to ever see him in a romantic light. Tier sighed and tried to take another sip of ale only to find she had finished the tankard. She idly slammed it to the table and marched off to her private chamber. Being the Dragonborn had its perks serving under Ulfric; private rooms and hot baths wherever she fought were very good perks indeed.
Back in the hall, Ralof stared at the retreating figure of the Dragonborn. His eyes tracked the alluring woman until she left the room.
"What a woman, eh Ralof?"
Said Nord jerked back to his drinking companions, Agneir and Elsie Far-Strider; both were Nords hailing from Dawnstar and had been fighting under Jarl Ulfric's banner since the beginning. And then there was Madge, a deceptively slim Breton woman with a penchant for seeking companionship with both sexes. Ralof couldn't help but nod in agreement with Agneir's observation.
The Dragonborn was indeed quite a woman. Ever since he first laid eyes on her, he knew he had to have her. Seeing her lay in that carriage as they rode to what he thought was the end, he couldn't help but fall in love with the woman. Who wouldn't? A tall, curvaceous woman with well-tanned skin and soft yet spiky blonde locks; when she first opened her eyes, Ralof felt like he was seeing a divine sword-maiden coming down from Sovngarde to guide him to its hallowed halls. Those deep emeralds pierced his very soul.
"All hail to Ulfric, you are the High King!
In your great honor we'll drink and we'll sing!
We're the children of Skyrim and we fight all our lives.
And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies."
Author's Note
I won't be able to update as often until mid-November/beginning of December. Hopefully I'll have a decent Internet connection by then.