Authors Notes:

This will be my 2nd official Fanfiction and I'm hitting it into the big leagues. This will be a Skyrim fanfic and most likely be one unlike any other before it. It took two of the finest creative minds this far north of the Jerall Mountains to craft such a piece such as this.

This Fanfiction will include detail from mods (all will be lore-friendly) and good old fashion imaginative creativity. I will give credit to the creators of said mods and where to find them.

Now to the story.

I Don't Own Skyrim.

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PROLOGUE

Blank, that's the best way to describe the start of a story, but blank in this case was the state of mind I was currently in. I couldn't seem to recall anything at the moment, I had no grip on reality around me and I had no clue why and how, until I felt the pain.

Pain always seems to be my closest admirer and reminder of my past and current affairs. The pain I felt was from a blow I took to the head from the hilt-end of an Imperial rider's sword.

Hooves clicking…

I hear the hooves of horses clicking.

I hear the snorts of a horses breathing.

I hear the creaking of wooden planks.

I start to piece it together just as my first bit sight returns, blurry and blinded by sunlight. Then my eyes adjusted.

I was in a wagon; but I wasn't alone, I looked around to find I share this wagon with three strangers; who appeared to be bound.

I regained feeling just in time to realize I too shared the wrist attire.

I carefully gazed over to the wagon driver to find an Imperial soldier holding the reins and in this case in more ways than one. Reclaiming all my senses and cognitive thought, I knew I had to play this carefully or I might find myself at a loss of more than movement of my hands.

Keeping my head down I began to access the situation and the cards are not in my favor. Outnumbered, unarmed and bound I had no chance of escape, but hope is not lost yet.

I look to my companions on board the carriage to see if I can gain any information.

Directly in front of me, sat a Nord; no older than 25, dressed in leather armor with blue and bear decorative, from my understanding of Skyrim; the Bear was Windhelms emblem and the civil war the land was currently in told me that he is a native soldier in the war.

To my immediate right, sat a grizzled Nord; at least 50 years by my guess, dressed differently from the Nord before me. His armor bore the similar bear decorative, but this seemed more something a general would wear. The most interesting part about him seemed to be that he was gagged.

Finally, in front of the gagged man; sat an irritable fellow; dressed in rags, must be another passenger of Sheogorath's prank pony rides. He's not a Nord though, Breton by his scent; and here I thought I was the odd one out.

Realizing that I was conscious, the Nord in front of me easily gained my attention.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake." Called the Nord to me; alerting the rest to my wake form. His words seemed to blast war horns in my head, sending my eyes closed and open again as the headache from the souvenir the Empire gave me only intensified.

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" The Nord questioned me before continuing.

"Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." Said the Nord; while turning to the Breton beside him; informing me that he was the thief.

The Breton thief seemed to take offence to that last comment from the Nord. "Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy." Spat the Breton with venom to the "Stormcloak soldier" sitting in front of me.

"If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell." Jabbered the thief, I was barely paying any mind, trying to soothe my own mind from the pain brought upon by his pointless bickering.

"You there." My attention was called toward the thief. "You and me – we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." The thief told me and I agreed, without so much as returning his words.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The Nord in front of me patronized.

"Shut up back there!" The Imperial soldier driving the carriage yelled to us but my head only got worse at the demand for silence.

"And what's wrong with him, huh?" The thief questioned while looking towards the gagged man beside me. The Nord's eye lit up with a fire only seen in times of war, he turned to the thief sitting beside him. "Watch your tongue. You're talking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

As those words left his mouth, I realized not that I was sitting next to; not the general but the High Commander, but that my destination was shared with that of the Empire's mortal enemy.

I dropped my head; just to gaze at my feet, thinking of what I could do to get out of this mess, but my options were limited with my hands bound and me being in such a pathetically weakened state.

I didn't hear anything after that, just my thoughts plagued with memories as I came to terms with my demise waiting for me beyond the gates of the city before us. I didn't hear the murmuring of the thief as he prayed to the Divines, like they were going to do anything.

Feeling every bump of the road, I started to listen for names.

"...General Tulluis the Military Governor…"

"…looks like the Thalmor are with him…"

Now I had the names. The names of who is responsible for this. Tulluis, the Thalmor and the Empire. Now it's just their turn to decide what happens next.

"End of the road." Those words told me the time had come.

I looked up to find we were inside the walls of a small village, Helgen; I think the name was. I turn to find the other wagon is already being unloaded of prisoners and I was next. My gaze then fell upon the block in middle of square of the city I currently sat in a wagon in. Next to said block, stood a tall brisk man hold a halberd axe like it was a staff. I could only assume he would very likely be my death.

I stood up with the rest of the wagon passengers, the thief begging and pleading like a cornered virgin. We all took few to no steps before jumping off and our feet meeting the dirt beneath us.

"Step forward to the block, one at a time when we call your name." A Nord Imperial soldier said while holding a quill in one hand and a book in the other.

"Empire loves their damn list!" The soldier next to me complained.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm" The gagged Jarl walked forward towards the block.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric." The Nord beside me cried out.

"Ralof of Riverwood." The next name was read and the soldier next to me walked forth next.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." Who could only be the Breton thief in front of me; he instantly had something to say. "No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" Lokir screamed before he tried his luck with the Legion Captain instead.

Lokir took off past the Captain, trying to make a break for the gate.

"Halt!" The Captain commanded, to which the Breton promptly ignored and replied. "You're not going to kill me!"

"Archers!" The Captain called and not a moment later an arrow flew across the air toward the running thief. He turned just in time to receive it in the chest.

"Anyone else feel like running!" The impatient captain tested.

The Imperial soldier with list of names finally took notice that he was one name shy of the number of heads that they rounded up. "Wait. You there. Step forward." He instructed me.

Now I was the center stage of attention.

"Who are you?"

I stood before Imperial soldiers, taller than most of my kind. My hair was long and black as night, pulled back into a Rogue Knot; along with the fair trimmed goatee that adorned my face. My skin complexion was very pale, almost like that of snow. My face was thinner than your basic brutes and defined sharply. I wore War-paint on my face, around both eyes that descended down my cheeks, to my jaw and down my neck with a sharp end. Looks as if I had cried tears of blood that had dried to my face and in some ways; it had. My blood red eye and slit irises glared toward the soldier. I am a Dunmer; known better as a Dark Elf, but that is not my name.

"I am Moro Malani."

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Authors Notes:

That's the prologue done, now the rest.

Things are going to get a lot weirder trust me and I promise this will be unlike any other Skyrim story ever told before.