A/N: Just something that kept on lingering in my head. It's here to stay, may or may not be continued.
I woke with a splitting headache, slowly but surely pounding against the inside of my skull as my other senses began its own slow process of waking up again. My ears were the first of my senses to make themselves known, picking up the sounds of a steady, sharp wind, the sounds of wooden wheels, cracking and squeaking and lastly, the slow rhythmic impact of hooves against dirt and stone.
My nose squeezed itself shut at the smell of sweat, horse shit, unwashed leather and fur, all mixed and topped up with a mixture of blood and iron. My skin quivered as the cold temperature became apparent, the cold snowflakes dropping down on my arms, inviting my hands to rub to give off their signature warmth.
…
…
…?
My hands sadly couldn't seem to relief my arms of the piercing cold as the realization struck that my wrists were bound with what felt like some sort of heavy cloth? Rope? A mental groan echoed its way through my head, disappointment filling one half and the rest because of the ever-pounding headache that just seems to roar inside my head.
The groan jumpstarted my eyes as the spilt open only to immediately close again to a mere split, allowing a tiny bit of light through my eyelashes and granting me minimal line of sight. I was staring at my feet, they were bare, with no sock or shoe in sight and practically freezing away without any mention of pain and just a simple feeling of actually existing.
My eyes slowly adjusted to the light and began their way upwards, following a set of leather boots, warm-looking pants wrapped in thick furs and leather, a blue/brown armor ending just below the neck, were a face of a blond adult man was staring at me questionably. His wrists and hands were in the same situation as mine are and were loosely laying on his lap.
My eyes lingered before trailing off to the left, showing a row of carriages moving one after the one on a mossy stone path, guarded by a platoon of leather armored man, either on foot or on horseback. My right displayed another carriage, trailing behind the one I was in, carrying more prisoners in the same color schemed armor as the guy in front of me. Focusing back to my own carriage, the realization of my awakening was followed by that of the other occupants of the slow moving carriage.
Next to me sat a bulky guy in fur-made black and grey long-coat, black pants and black boots, once again made of furs and leather. His hands seemingly bound in similar ways as mine did not take away the fact that he was gagged, a dirty white cloth preventing him from making comprehensible speech if he would try to actually speak but instead took his time to stare at me with face of anger and irritation. Whether these emotions where directed at me or his current predicament, I would never truly know. His face struck me as oddly familiar but the pounding headache made it difficult to put a name next to his face.
Leaving the man-bear to continuously stare at me with unspoken anger, I focused my eyes to the other side of the carriage where a comparably younger man was close to having a panic attack. His hands continuously shaking and his fingers tapping on wherever he could reach, his eyes looking everywhere and nowhere, sweating profusely and trying to hold in whatever is trying to get out with a greater persistence than man-bear-man next to me.
Of all things I could considered so far, I would say we would make a great boyband but with my own panic attack coming up and the pounding headache, that weird strain of thought would have to be resumed later as a flash of recognition displayed itself in my half-aware mind. Knowledge of my location and situation made itself bare and if only I was a few years younger I would have had a lot more optimism in stock.
My younger version self's optimistic dream to enter a fantasy game filled with screwed politics, civil wars, famine and diseases, mystical creatures of death and destruction in all shapes and sizes that can make the seven billion steps of High Hrothgar look like a bald child with a wooden sword, was perhaps not the best dream I could've when it just so actually happens and that I either end up with my head chopped off, broken knees due to jumping off a tower into a burning house, getting immolated or eaten by a fantasy Nordic equivalent of Ragnarök, stabbed by very pointy weapons, becoming a meal for a colony of spiders or of that of a bear.
…I was not liking my first morning/afternoon in Skyrim.
As I counted down the possible ways I was going to die and coping with the fact that I found myself in Skyrim in all places of waking up in my head, the questionably looking man opposite of me began to say his famous lines in a more concerned tone:
"Hey, you! Finally awake?"
My eyes focused back on Ralof, he was leaning forward and clearly showed his concern for my well-being with his current expression. Luckily Ralof didn't entirely fall in the brutish stereotype of the Nordic people of Skyrim or else this (possible) last trip in a carriage would have been a lot more difficult to bare. Wanting to thank him for his concern, I voiced my gratitude:
"…"
"…"
"…"
…what?
"What's the matter, Breton? Caber cat got your tongue?"
"…"
"…"
…nononono!
"You are quite the unlucky fellow aren't you, huh?"
My arms and bounds hands tried to reach for my throat, trying to make it at least say something, a single word that at least showed hope that I could say something, ANYTHING!
"…"
Whatever ember of hope I had left that I somehow survive Helgen, made it out alive without third degree burns and massive bleeding and could live a somewhat decent life, was snuffed out with the power of the Unrelenting Force shout as I hopelessly tried to claw at my throat, hoping that at least pain made me scream and unlease the bellows of pain that I was fucking mute! NO VOICE, nothing or anything!
As I tried to make any sound whatsoever without success, it went unnoticed by me how the atmosphere in the carriage changed. The levels of pity had risen in Ralof, who gave a pity prayer to Shor, wishing to him to grant me my own voice back upon my arrival in Sovngarde. The man-bear, otherwise known as Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the Stormcloak Rebellion against the Empire, diverted his attention, knowing all too well what it would mean if his voice was silenced forever, both in political and combat terms and turned his sight away from me, instead directing his anger to the carriage trotting behind ours and it's Imperial guards surrounding it. The horse-thief known as "Lokir of Rorikstead" didn't hear anything, his own panic attack stopping any and all noise input from his ears and instead focused on his sweating, unsteady hands.
The remaining ride to Helgen went by without half the carriage occupants noticing. Helgen, the famous starting point of the game, was much larger than in the game could portray and instead of five to six house and the addition of a small fort now seemed to have been built to house hundreds of people with dozen of houses and various shops and workplaces surrounding a far larger fort with second wall separating the fort and the village. Ralof's story about his memories of Helgen were not there to lighten the mood, they just weren't there at all, letting our sorry little carriage came to a halt and the Imperial troops beginning to bark their orders to line up the prisoners.
"Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us, eh?"
His depressed tone did not help in the slightest even as I pushed my cold limbs to move and half stumbled my way off the carriage. The number of Stormcloaks had also increased but were far below half of the Imperial forces. The ambush had really decimated whatever troops Ulfric had with him at the time of the ambush.
My eyes trailed to the people standing in front of us, a collection of soldiers with one captain and one soldier holding a quill and book. A whisper of "Imperial damned lists" was snuffed out by the captain in charge.
"Step forwards when your name is called, one at a time!"
One by one, the Stormcloaks dragged themselves to the chopping block, some with and some without protest but all under loud yelling and cursing from the inhabitants of Helgen. Few dared to escape, those that did felt half a dozen of arrows pierce their backs before being thrown together on a pile of dead flesh and blood. Not unsurprisingly in this case, Lokir did not try to flee, either due to previous victims or his still far away mind.
"You, step forward."
I was the last one left, shivering and freezing in Skyrim's cold climate and under the many eyes of Imperials and Nords alike. The most intimating were from the Imperial captain, the most concerning were from the Nord with the list.
"Who are you?"
It was pointless, but like all humans, I acted in desperation and hope for survival and warmth.
"…"
"…"
The Divines and/or Deadra were already against me weren't they?
"Prisoner, do not tempt us and speak your name and business here!"
"I believe he is mute, captain. That is not the face of man trying to fool you."
The clearly irritated captain huffed and gave her final order, "Doesn't matter, he goes to the block."
"By your orders captain. I'm sorry prisoner, but orders are orders. I will ensure that your remains will be send back to High Rock.
Thanks for nothing Hadvar, I'm sure they will love my bones and whatever else you send back.
I was led to the groups of Stormcloaks standing off to the side, all looking between proud and silent resignation of their impending death. The ground was already smeared with dried blood of previous prisoners, with no attempts of cleaning it up. As if everybody isn't scared out of their minds already. Save one of course.
"Humph"
"It was your blind arrogance and stubborn pride that plunged Skyrim into this war, Ulfric. Thousands lie dead, soldiers and civilians alike. Famine, diseases and crime is at an all time high and yet you continue this pointless struggle. The Empire is going to put you down and bring an end this. Captain, you have your orders."
"Yes, General Tullius."
Politics, why always politics.
I merely waned in my thoughts as prisoners were called forwards, sneering and sobbing along the way as they prepared themselves for their deaths. Seven fresh heads had already filled the basked near the chopping block before I was called forward.
"Next, the mute."
It didn't even feel like an insult, merely the truth as I prepared for two possible scenarios. Either the Divines or the Deadra brought a random soul from Earth and see its end on the chopping block for fun and giggles alike or the literal World-Eater came to granted me a very warm death. After my eyes and ears picked up the nightmare fuel, it was seem the latter had become much more plausible.
The sky darkened before the immense roar echoed across Helgen and the nearby mountains. Alduin appeared as jet-black as I have ever known him. But he was larger this time. His terrifying body needed two towers this time for support as his blood red eyes started us down. All thoughts seem to escape my head as I looked up from my knelt position. Our eyes seemed to meet just before something gave off its own little roar deep inside of me, something my brain understood as a weak attempt at a challenge, one Alduin seemingly accepted as he roared against the sky and the first meteors began to lay waste to Helgen and its occupants.
Pandemonium broke out as it became everyone for themselves. The citizens of Helgen grabbed their families and ran in large groups in every direction. Some fled into their homes before meeting their end as a meteor impacting the roof and bringing it down without mercy. Through the screams, I could hear the Imperials shouting orders at each other, to leave the city and run for the nearest Imperial outpost. Some answered, some would not, chaos still remained.
The Stormcloaks seemed more organized, depending on Ulfric more so than before as his bindings and gag were removed and let them all away towards the keep. One of them was nice and brave enough to release me during the End Times.
"Come on, The Gods won't give us another chance!"
Ralof words sadly fell on deaf ears, my whole being still transfixed on the black mass roaring in the sky, sowing death and chaos with every flap and roar. Only a hard slap and more yelling brought me back to reality and my feet, no longer frozen, brought me further and faster than I ever thought they could during a situation such as this one. The wooden with iron bolted door slammed shut behind me as I tried to catch my breath, my eyes darting everywhere as I saw Ulfric and his man take down whatever Imperial soldier was left in the keep and armed themselves with their weapons and shields.
I counted around twenty Stormcloaks, some bleeding, some burned but most alive and well, for as far that was possible in this situation. My presence was noticed by no one but Ralof, himself still standing beside me, considerably less out of breath than I was.
"You alright there, Breton?"
I meekly nodded, straighting myself and without any way of vocally thanking him, I bowed in gratitude.
"None of that now." He said as he dismissed my bow, "We're alive, try to remain positive even if it is the End Times."
Ralof always seemed like an optimist in my eyes, seems he was one here too.
It didn't take long before I feared what would happen next, word of possible escape through the dungeons spread among the group of Stormcloaks and Ulfric took heed to them.
"Men and women able to lift and swing their axe, move to the front. Those with minor wounds, form a perimeter around the severely wounded but do not deny them a weapon. If we want to leave this town together than we must ready to fight to the last. Move quickly and with haste, incapacitate and kill but do not wait around. We all escape or we all move on to Sovngarde!"
His speech drew cries of hope as the small group tightened around 4 severely wounded looking Stormcloaks and 4 others to support them. Ulfric, Ralof and 4 other capable men took the front while I and 5 other took the flanks and the back, a iron dagger my only means to defend myself. I was no fighter, but I was still one of the better options even if I wasn't one of them. They made that last part rather clear.
We moved quick thanks to the coordinated attacks of the front, felling Imperials as they stamped through the large tunnels underneath the keep. It was but a small stroke of luck that the front was able to handle the last remaining defenders. We did not leave without casualties though. Two of our most wounded died from blood loss, Some fell due to a salvo of arrows from a row of soldiers on the barricaded side of a wide room but it was Ulfric that prevented any further casualties.
"FUS RO DAH!"
The Unrelenting Force shout obliterated the soldiers as they were violently slammed against the wall, those wearing only light armor found the back of their skulls crushed against the stone walls, blood and pieces of brain and bone painting a horrifying picture in the dimly lit dungeons. Ulfric merely advanced, ushering the rest to the same, as the deaths of their enemies were far less important than that of their own.
For me, Ulfric's shout caused something within me to pull at me again, demanding a way out, just as with Alduin's arrival and unintended challenge. It was an afterthought in the heat of our escape but it was there.
After fighting and running for another ten minutes did we finally see the end of the tunnel. I was tired and my mind was still not entirely wrapped up with the current situation. There were other cries of joy yet Ulfric demanded silence and a halt to our escape. He pointed to Ralof and another soldier, himself already silently creeping forward towards the exit, his axe at the ready. The three man escaped the increasingly nervous group's sight for a minute before beckoning us out and leading us to freedom.
The cold hit me again, yet as I saw the wilds of the Falkreath Hold, the cold was momentarily forgotten. Lush green forests with snow at its tips, blue creeks and rivers and white mountains and hills. It reminded me of my first playthrough, a simpler time. I was stumbled out of my memories as the another roar split through the air. Our formation fell apart as some retreated back into the cave, others hit behind rocks or underneath nearby trees as Alduin flew over our heads, disappearing into the horizon.
It was enough time for my adrenaline to leave my body, the only thing keeping me up and ready. With that gone, I promptly fell into the snow and lost my consciousness as I asked myself the same question again and again: Why me?
Alduin, was not happy. Had it dawned to her that these Jul would pose such a threat to her and her kind, she would have burned and eaten them all long before their thoughts about rebellion would dare to cross their feeble minds. Still, she should not have been so dismissive over the Jul. Those three defilers did something to her, someone like her, even in all her glory and power, could not withstand that abomination of a Thu'um that brought her down from the Lok to the soil those defilers crawl upon. The Kel they used did not lessen her anger in the slightest but the emotion was crushed as the power of the Kel overwhelmed her and she knew no more.
Disoriented and weakened did she awoke, the battle no more and her kind no longer roaming the Lok and slaughtering the Jul for their transgressions. Alone she was, just as when she was born the first, her senses not finding any Dovah at all, all but two. One she recognized as her brother, Paarthurnax. She would not look for him, her being far too weak to face her brother in unknown times. She turned away from him, towards the other feeling of Dovah that did not entirely feel Dovah, it felt muffled.
Her mighty wings let her soar again, free again from that Thu'um Maar. They flew her to a Jul settlement where she promptly landed, her eyes examining the mortals below her. The Dovah's soul called to her but it was not a greeting, it was a challenge. A challenge for domination, for subordination. It was weak, terrible so. Her own soul directed her and their eyes met.
He was not a Dovah, she realized. It was a Mun and it gave resemblance to the Him Who Enslaved The Dovah, The Terrible Traitor Of All Dovah. He, the…
Dovahkiin!
The cursed word coursed through her mighty body and it reacted all the same. She roared to the sky, to obey her and wipe the Al of Dovah from this world. Sky heeded her words and reacted, laying waste to all Jul. It was not enough for her, weakened she may be, her rage had reached limits previously unsurpassed. Her flames and clawed further helped in the destruction of the settlement and its occupants.
Even as she looked upon the death and destruction she had rightfully caused, it was a mistake she had come to regret. Her power weak, her rage had only weakening it further, she decided it was best to retreat. To shelter herself and regain what was lost. It was a shame she would rectify later, with her power restored and her kind beside her again. The Jul would fear her again and the challenge given to herby the Dovahkiin shall not be ignored. She would have him at her might claws, for her to toy and play with as she wished for she was Alduin, Destroyer of Worlds and she will get want her soul desires.