Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim or any of the games mentioned in this fanfiction.
Warning: One of the protagonists enjoys the use of coarse language.
Chapter 1
Skyrim's Welcome
"Uuuuugh … my head," Dameon groaned as he lied splayed on the ground. It felt like someone was stabbing away at his brain with at dull spork.
"Shut …the fuuuuuuuck up …" his twin brother, Kayden, mumbled from somewhere.
Dameon pried open a single bleary eye to see where they were, but when all he saw was white, white, and more white, he squeezed it shut.
"Kayden …"
"… what …?"
"I think … we're hammered …"
"No … fucking shit …"
"What happened to us?"
Kayden paused. "Weren't we … at Jennifer's party …?"
The memories were slowly trickling back into Dameon's pounding skull. "Think so. Didn't go to hard … on the alcohol though … not after the Event."
Daemon knew Kayden was shuddering. "Bro … we fucking swore … to never bring that up again."
"Sorry, sorry," Daemon grumbled. "But we laid off the juice … so why's there a metal band concert going on in my head?"
"Fuck … least you didn't say dub-step. What else? What … happened next?"
Daemon furrowed his brow as he tried to focus. "Kyle. Kyle came … with his brownies."
Kayden groaned, loudly. "Those fucking brownies. He put his fucking pot in those fucking brownies, didn't he? That motherfucker … when I get my fucking hands on him … hey, bro?"
"What?"
"Today's Saturday, right?"
"Unless we were out for longer than 24 hours, yeah."
"I'mma be even more pissed if we were. What time is it?"
Daemon reached for his pockets, where his cellphone would be … only to feel the smooth skin of his thigh.
Alarmed, Daemon ignored his thundering headache and snapped his eyes open. When he looked down, he saw he wasn't wearing a single stitch of clothing.
"Fork!" Daemon shouted as he scrambled to his feet, feeling very uncomfortable with his penis hanging freely.
"Jesus Christ on a pogo stick! Keep your voice down!" Kayden snapped from somewhere behind him. "My fucking head's still killing me here!"
"I'm in my birthday suit!"
"… you finally got laid? Nice."
Daemon whipped around to shout at his brother, to say this wasn't a joke, only to be punished with the sight of his twin's bare behind.
"Well fork my shirt up," Daemon grumbled.
"The fuck's wrong with you?" Kayden grumbled, his eyes still sealed shut.
"I'm not the only one here with his dirk hanging out."
Hearing that, Kayden shot to his feet like a fire-cracker had gone off between his ash-cheeks, his emerald eyes bulging as he saw the only thing he was wearing was a scowl.
"What the fuck?! Where's my fucking clothes?!" Kayden screamed as he whipped his head left and right for any sign of their belongings. "And where the fuck are we?!"
"Finally noticed that part, did you?" Daemon snorted, crossing his arms across his bare chest.
Earlier, Daemon had thought all the white he was seeing was a side-effect of his hangover. Now that he was up and about, realized it wasn't an alcohol induced hallucination.
Because they were standing in a world of white. The sky was white; the ground was white; no matter which direction he looked, all he saw was white, white, white. Not only that, but there wasn't a single distinct landmark in sight. All he could see was an endless horizon of white.
"Are … are we fucking dead?" Kayden gasped. "Did that motherfucker's shitty pot-brownies fucking kill us?!"
Before Daemon could answer that, a sound thundered across the empty world: the pounding of drums, followed by a chorus of a thousand men bellowing horrifyingly familiar lyrics across the heavens.
Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin!
Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!
Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nus thon zindro zaan!
Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!
Daemon froze like someone had slid an icicle up his crack, and so did his twin. They both knew these lyrics. How could they not? It was the main theme of their favorite video game.
Hammering this fact home, a set of words shimmered into existence above their heads, words that blew away any linger cobwebs of uncertainty.
THE ELDER SCROLLS V: SKYRIM
The two of them stared at the unmistakable title logo.
Then they stared at one another.
Daemon punched his twin across the face; Kayden did the same to him.
Both of them now had swelling right cheeks.
"That hurt."
"Yes it fucking did."
"We didn't wake up."
"No we fucking didn't."
"What's going on?"
"That's what I fucking want to know, god damn it!"
Then two figures materialized in front of Daemon and Kayden, directly underneath the floating Skyrim logo, nearly scaring the twins out of their skins. Neither of the newcomers moved, standing as still as mannequins. Upon closer inspection, Daemon and Kayden recognized the two they were looking at: they were the standard Nord male you could select during the game's Character Creation phase.
"… is this place … telling us to create our character?" Daemon wondered aloud as he inspected the unmoving Nords. Man, they were huge. Around 6 feet tall? They were definitely a head taller than the twins. And those muscles! They looked like they could suplex a wild saber cat!
"But why Nords? What if I wanted to play as an Argonian—HOLY SHIT!" Kayden shouted as the Nord in front of him rippled and shifted into a green-scaled bipedal lizard: an Argonian.
"Yep, definitely the Character Creation screen," Daemon chuckled at his twin's shock.
"Holy fuck … holy fuck," Kayden gasped as he clutched his chest. When his heart rate settled, he stepped forward and patted the Argonian on its scaly cheek ."This … this is real. This is all real."
"Yeah, I think we've established that," Daemon said, pointing at his swelling cheek.
"Dude, do you know what this fucking means?" Kayden continued, his eyes wide and gleaming. "If we do this … if we really do this … we're going to find ourselves in fucking Skyrim!"
Daemon gave himself a moment to let the full implication of his brother's words fully sink in. He didn't know how they'd ended up here, or if there was even a way out. What he did know was that if they did this … they'd be leaving their old world behind.
Daemon met his twin's gaze; Kayden's eyes were unflinching.
Together, they smiled.
"Skyrim won't know what hit them," Daemon grinned.
"We're going to have all those motherfucking Jarls, Thalmor bastards, and cunt-sucking dragons bowing at our feet!" Kayden cackled wickedly. "Let's fucking do this!"
"Wait," Daemon said, making his twin pause. "If there's two of us, who's going to be the Dragonborn?"
Kayden shrugged. "Guess we'll find out when we pimp-slap our first dragon. Western Watchtower outside of Whiterun, right?"
Don't forget the Word Wall in Bleak Falls Barrow, Daemon thought, but teasingly said, "Unless you plan on taking on Alduin at the get go."
Kayden snorted. "I like living, thanks. We'll skin that motherfucker after we've broken the world with our insane gear."
Daemon chuckled. He was looking forward to this.
"I think I'll be a Nord, what about you?" Daemon asked his brother.
"I was thinking about being an Argonian," Kayden admitted as he admired his Argonian avatar. "It'd be totally rad to be able to breathe underwater, but chances are we'll be starting at Helgen after we've customized our characters. I don't want to be using an unfamiliar body while we're running away for our lives. The tail would probably throw me off, and dying at the tutorial would fucking suck. I'll stick with something familiar."
"Breton?" Daemon suggested.
"Magic sounds cool and all, but you know I like settling my differences with my fists."
Daemon snorted. "It's honestly a miracle the University hasn't expelled you despite all the fights you get into."
Kayden gave him the finger. "Besides, there are potions and enchantments that can let us breathe underwater, right? Plus, I like sleeping on my back. Ain't going to sleep on my belly because of some stupid tail."
"Orc, then?"
"That's Orsimer, you uncultured plebian."
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
The two of them laughed.
Meanwhile, Kayden's Argonian transformed into a green-skinned killing machine. It was even more ripped than the Nord, while the two tusks protruding from its mouth gave it a perpetual scowl.
"I definitely don't want to bump into this motherfucker in a dark alley," Kayden noted as he studied the worshipper of Malacath.
"But it'd be a different story if you were the motherforker," Daemon chuckled.
Kayden grinned maliciously. "That's definitely a plus, but this asshole isn't for me."
"Why? He looks like he de-stresses by punching bears."
Kayden gestured at the Orc's face. "Do you see that ugly mug? How am I supposed to get any pussy looking like that?"
Daemon rolled his eyes. "Of course that's what you're worried about."
"Hey, don't hate just 'cause you don't get any."
"Do you know how forking annoying it is for me when one of your one-night flings mistakes you for me and start babbling about shirt I don't want to know?"
Kayden smacked Daemon on the shoulder. "Which is exactly why you need to get laid. When we're out of Helgen, I'll hook you up with a nice girl. How about Camilla? I bet her and her brother will be real grateful when we get their golden claw back for them," Kayden said while waggling his eyebrows.
Daemon kicked his twin in the shin. "And how do you plan on avoiding STDs while you go around screwing every woman with two legs?"
"That's what the Cure Disease potion is for!"
"You forker."
Kayden's grin stretched from ear to ear. "And proud of it."
"Shut the fork up and make your character already," Daemon grumbled as he focused on his Nord character in front of him.
With a bit of experimentation, Daemon discovered he could customize his character through his thoughts alone. So long as he could think of a realistic change, his Nord would shift to accommodate it. He toyed with the idea of changing the Nord's face so he'd resemble Brad Pitt, but chose to stick with the default face. The idea of wandering around Skyrim with a celebrity's appearance just felt wrong to him. Still, he didn't mind broadening his character's chin, raising his cheek bone, and smoothing out his hair. Call him vain, but since he was given the choice he'd be going into Skyrim as a bit of a head-turner. He also gave his Nord his own emerald green eyes, wanting at least one of his original aspects to brave the cold lands of Skyrim.
He also tinkered with his character's height. If there was one thing he hated about his own body, it was how short he was. No more. Now his giant of a Nord stood at a towering 6'8", with the muscles to match his new physique.
When he was done, Daemon was no longer standing before the standard male Nord character, but his handsomer and much taller older brother.
Satisfied, and excited to give it a test drive, Daemon glanced over at Kayden to see how he was doing.
Seeing Kayden's character, Daemon's mouth automatically spat out the words: "You motherforker."
"Like what you see?" Kayden said cheekily.
"You forking copied me."
That's exactly what happened. Standing across from Kayden was an exact replica of Daemon's Nord character, except his hair was a chestnut brown.
"You know I'm shit at making crap," Kayden shrugged without an ounce of shame. "Don't worry, not everything's the same. I made sure my guy has the bigger dick."
"… when we get to Helgen, I'm forking feeding you to Alduin."
Kayden snickered, but said no more.
As the two of them settled down, a sense of finality washed over them. Daemon could feel his heart palpitating inside his chest.
This was it. They were going to Skyrim.
"Hey, bitch."
"What, jerk?"
Kayden looked over to Daemon, their eyes locking. "Looks like even on the other side, we'll still be twins."
There wasn't a trace of his usual crassness in his eyes. All Daemon saw was pure sincerity.
A feeling he shared.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Daemon replied, ingraining his honesty into every syllable he spoke.
Kayden smiled—a genuine smile—and the two of them bumped fists.
"To the adventure of a lifetime," Daemon said.
"And to fucking every hot chick we come across. Dibs on Aela," Kayden added.
Daemon snorted. "I don't think Skyrim has any kind of birth control."
That ripped the wind out of Kayden's sails. "Oh … oh fuck."
"Yep, so unless you want to singlehandedly sire Skyrim's next generation, keep your dirk in your pants."
"T-There's alchemy! We could make a Birth Control Potion!"
"Good luck with that."
"I just said I'm shit at making crap! C-C'mon, bro! Don't do this to me!"
"So how do we start our adventure?" Daemon asked aloud, pointedly ignoring his twin's pleading.
A holographic screen popped up in front of both Daemon and Kayden. On it were the words Do you wish to begin your journey? Followed by the prompts YES and NO.
Daemon stabbed the YES with his finger without hesitation. Grumbling under his breath, Kayden did the same.
The white world sudden became brighter, painfully bright, like someone had dropped a flash-bang in front of their eyes.
Yet even with the blinding light, both Daemon and Kayden felt their eyes nearly pop out of their heads as they saw something else happen: a female Nord suddenly appeared beside their customized Nords, followed by the loud, feminine shout of someone crying, "W-W-What's going on?!"
Then they both blacked out.
Skyrim, Path to Helgen
Kayden groaned as he felt the ground jostle beneath him. As his consciousness slowly returned, he felt his body ache in its sitting position. Ever so slowly, he opened his eyes …
… and gasped as he beheld a beautiful world of snow. As he expected, he was sitting in the back of a moving wagon, with its two harnessed horses pulling the medieval vehicle down a messy roadway of dirt and stone that cut through the white land. Although he couldn't see too much through the misty morning, he could vaguely make out the mountains dotting the faraway horizon.
Mountains that didn't exist back on Earth.
He inhaled deeply, and the air filling his lungs was the crispest shit he'd ever tasted. Oh baby, he definitely wasn't in Texas anymore!
It was real! All of that shit from before was real!
They were in Skyrim! He and Daemon were in fucking Skyrim!
"Hey, you. You're finally awake."
Kayden's eyes snapped onto the speaker, who was sitting across from him on the back of the wagon. He almost shit his heart out when he saw who it was: Ralof of Riverwood, Nord of the Stormcloak Rebellion. While Ralof looked exactly like his game counterpart, there was something different about him; something more. He was real. This wasn't an NPC sitting across from Kayden, it as a flesh-and-bone fucking Nord!
"You were trying to cross—" Ralof continued.
Only for Kayden to snap, "Shut the fuck up."
Ralof coughed like he'd choked on a cock.
"Crossing the border and Imperial ambush, right?" Kayden said, having little-to-no interest in hearing Ralof's opening speech for the nth time.
Ralof blankly nodded. "Y-Yes. It's … where they captured you lot."
Kayden glanced to his right, smiling as he saw Daemon (or at least Daemon's Nord) sitting beside him, still out like a light.
So like a good brother, he awoke his snoozing sibling.
"Wake up …" Kayden began as he leaned back "… ASSHOLE!" before lunging forward and slamming his forehead into his twin's.
"GAH! What the fork?!" Daemon howled, his voice sounding nothing like his original body's. This was deeper, like the rumbling of a dragon. Very badass.
"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," Kayden said with a cheeky grin.
"Fork you, ash-hole" Daemon spat as he shook his head to rid himself of the stars doubtlessly floating before his eyes.
Kayden laughed. It was loud, boisterous, and echoed off the surrounding cliffs and mountains like a crackle of thunder.
That got the attention of the Imperial soldier driving their wagon to Helgen, who snapped, "Quiet down back there!"
"Suck my fat cock, Imperial," Kayden snarked in return.
The Imperial driver spun in his seat to glare at Kayden, which Kayden returned with ten times the ferocity. The native of Cyrodiil nearly piss his loins as he turned away first, muttering under his breath about "blasted Nords."
"You've got steel for a spine, don't you lad?" Ralof said, sounding a wee bit awed.
Kayden, momentarily caught off guard when the Stormcloak veered off his scripted dialogue, shrugged. "Never been one to back down from a fight."
"I can see why," Ralof agreed, eyeing Kayden from head to toe. "Shor's bones, I've never seen a Nord as big as you. Was your pa a giant?"
"Nah, we're just milk-drinkers," Kayden said with a challenging smile.
Ralof was stumped. "I … you … what …?"
"Means my bro and I drank our milk when we were naught but tiny lads," Kayden continued, knowing "milk-drinker" was an insult in Skyrim and choosing to mess with Ralof's head. "And you know what happens when a kid shuts the fuck up and drinks their fucking milk?" Kayden flexed one of his titanic arms, inordinately proud of the muscles bulging like steel coils beneath his skin. "You get fucking ripped, like me and my bro."
Ralof was gobsmacked, clearly unsure how to refute a single thing Kayden said. During this moment of silence, Kayden observed his fellow passengers in their we're-off-to-get-beheaded wagon. There was Horse-Thief Lokir, who looked just as ragged and miserable as he did in the game; dude needed a shower.
And sitting across from him was Ulfric Fucking Stormcloak, dressed in his dirty bear-skin armor and gagged so he couldn't blow them all to smithereens with the Voice.
Kayden didn't like Ulfric. While Ulfric knew how to spew pretty words, the fact of the matter was that he couldn't have kicked off his shitty civil war at a worse time. The fucker was helping the Aldmeri Dominion by weakening the Empire, and anyone who helped those supremacist fuckers (knowingly or not) went on Kayden's shit list.
Fuck the Thalmor.
Evidentially the feeling wasn't mutual, because Kayden could see glints of respect shimmering in Ulfric's eyes, likely because of Kayden's antagonistic stance towards their Imperial cart driver.
Yeah, well fuck you, Kayden thought. First chance I get, I'm shoving you into Alduin's flaming maw. Fuck cannon.
"Holy shirt," Kayden heard Daemon breathe. His twin bro was gazing at the picturesque landscape with pure wonder in his eyes. "We're here. We're actually here."
"Damn straight we are," Kayden said, getting his bro's attention.
Sharing a smile, the two bumped fists. It was then Kayden noticed the leather strips binding his wrists together; same with everyone else. Kayden had a feeling if he flexed hard enough he could free himself without issue, but refrained from doing so until later.
Wait until Alduin had the Imperials running around like headless chickens, then break free.
"Could it be … have the two of you never set foot in Skyrim before?" Ralof asked them.
"First time," Daemon said as he rubbed the growing bruise on his head, shooting Kayden a glare. Kayden merely returned a wink.
"But … you're Nords!"
"Nords who grew up outside of Skyrim," Daemon said simply. "We came back to see our motherland for ourselves."
"But why were you raised outside of your homeland?"
"Reasons," Daemon shrugged, and left it at that.
"Well you came back at the worst of times," Horse-Thief Lokir spat, "and it's all because of these damn Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you bastards came along! Empire was nice and lazy!"
Ah, lines ripped straight from the game itself.
"You three!" Lokir continued desperately to Kayden and Daemon. "We shouldn't be here! It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants!"
Kayden was about to make a retort, but something the Horse-Thief said made him pause.
Wait, you "three"?
"What do you mean, three?" Daemon demanded.
Lokir stared at them as if they'd lost their marbles. "Isn't it obvious? I'm talking about you brothers and the girl squeezed between you two!"
Girl? What girl?
Kayden glanced at his bro, who stared back at him. Neither of them knew what Horse-Thief was talking about.
Then they looked down, and nearly jumped out of the moving wagon in shock.
Sitting between the two of them was a lithe young woman who seemed even smaller when compared to the mountainous twins. She had long light-brown hair with bangs that curtained her delicate face while the rest was tied into a ponytail behind her head thanks to a bright pink ribbon. Like the Horse-Thief, Daemon, and himself, she was wearing a prisoner garb that better resembled a dirty sack meant for holding moldy potatoes.
"Who … who the fuck is this?" Kayden hissed, turning to his bro for answers.
A futile endeavor, as Daemon was just as lost as him.
"You don't know?" Ralof said, looking curious. "She was captured along with you two by the Imperial patrol on the border. We all thought she was with you."
"We've never seen her before today," Daemon mumbled.
Well, that didn't feel entirely true. The longer Kayden stared at the girl's sleeping face, the more he felt like he knew who this was. She was just so damn familiar! He knew he'd seen her somewhere before, but he couldn't recall where!
But one thing was for sure: she was cute as hell!
"Then we might as well ask her ourselves," Ralof said as he shouted, "Hey! Lass! Wake up!"
He even tried kicking the girl's shin, only for Kayden to stop him with one of his beefy hands.
"Don't you know how to treat a lady?" he growled, which was all the warning he was going to give Ralof if he didn't back off.
Which was exactly what Ralof chose to do.
Wise man.
Ever so gently, as if she was made out of glass (c'mon, she was just so small!), Kayden grasped one of the little lady's shoulders and carefully shook her awake.
"Mhmm … whuat …?" the lady groaned in a musical voice that made everyone in the wagon shiver. Even the Imperial driver turned in his seat to get a better look at her.
As she opened her eyes, both Kayden and Daemon were surprised to see her emerald green eyes, almost the exact same shade as their own.
"… what's going … hold on … wait, wait, wait!" The dam broke as a slew of panicked words spilled for the lady's pale lips. Alarm and disbelief were practically radiating from her worried eyes. "W-W-Where am I? W-What's g-going on?"
"Hey. Hey, hey, hey. Calm down now," Daemon said as he placed as reassuring hand on the lady's back. Kayden merely watched; this was more his bro's specialty. As she took a chill pill, his bro continued, "I'm Daemon … Daemon Dragoncrown." Kayden gawked at his twin. Seriously? Their last name was going to be Dragoncrown? That … that was kind of badass. Kayden Dragoncrown … yeah, yeah he could live with that. "What's your name?"
The little lady nibbled on her lower lip, as if she was hesitant to say anything. Fuck, it was adorable as shit. But eventually, with a coxing smile from his bro, the lady said, "I'm … my name's … Aerith?"
The name smashed into Kayden's face with a force of an angry giant's club, and judging from the stupefied expression on his bro's face Daemon felt the exact same way.
Now Kayden knew why the little lady was so fucking familiar! She was the brown-haired chick he saw in that one video game trailer! What was the title again? Right! Final Fantasy VII: Remake! He never played the game, but he also never forgot a nice face!
Holy fuck! How did a character from another video game end up in Skyrim?!
"What brings you to Skyrim, Lady Aerith?" Ralof asked the Final Fantasy Flower Girl as Kayden and Daemon struggled to make sense of what was going on.
"I … I don't know," Aerith(?) admitted as she looked down at her hands and was startled to find them bound. "I … I was in this white room … and …"
A hypothesis sucker punched Kayden in the nuts. Could it be …?
Daemon came to the same conclusion, because he covered Aerith's(?) mouth with one hand (nearly covering her whole face in the process), leaned forward (she tried to lean away, only to end up backing into Kayden) and whispered in her ear, "Character Creation?"
Aerith's emerald eyes went wide in recognition.
That settled it. This chick must've been the one who arrived in the white space after Kayden and Daemon hit YES on the Character Creation menu! In other words, she wasn't the Aerith. She was like them: someone ripped from Earth and sent to Skyrim, only she created her character to resemble someone from another game!
After Daemon slowly removed his hand from her face, Aerith cautiously whispered, "You too?"
Daemon nodded, then gestured at Kayden, who flashed the girl a smile. "Us too. Ever heard of Skyrim?"
Aerith mulled over the question. "That … game for Amazon Alexa?"
Kayden and Daemon exchanged confused looks before they realized what she meant: she was talking about the Skyrim, Very Special Edition trailer. Both of them had found it hilarious, and had even tried playing the game on Amazon Alexa just to see how it went: neither of them had laughed so hard for so long.
But if that was the only knowledge Aerith had about Skyrim, then it was safe to assume she'd never played the game! Oh shit, she had no idea what was going to happen next! Alduin was about to fuck shit up at Helgen, and they couldn't warn her with the others eavesdropping!
"Who is this Amazon Alexa, and why does she see our province as a game?" Ralof angrily demanded, looking like he was ready to leap across the wagon and throttle Aerith for answers.
Aerith curled into herself in fright, but Kayden and Daemon were more than ready to beat the crap out of Ralof if he laid a finger on her.
"Watch it, motherfucker," Kayden warned, giving the Stormcloak the stink-eye.
"She's scared. She doesn't need you adding to her fears," Daemon added, the leather cuffs around his wrists straining to keep his hands bound.
Ralof scowled, but wasn't willing to risk their wrath. He dropped his inquiries, but continued to glare at Aerith hatefully. Probably because she didn't look like a Nord. Racist asshole.
Shit, that raised an interesting question: what was Aerith's race? If Kayden had to guess, he'd wager she was a Breton.
"I suppose it doesn't matter," Ralof relented. "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now."
"Will you lot shut up back there?" the Imperial driver snapped.
"Go fuck yourself," Kayden fired back.
"You're insane, the lot of you," Lokir groaned as Kayden fearlessly antagonized the Imperials. Then he stared across from him at Ulfric. "And what's wrong with him? Why's he the only one who's gagged?"
Ulfric's toady was immediately at his Jarl's defense. "Watch your tongue, horse thief! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"
Kayden watched as all the blood left the Horse-Thief's grime-smeared face. "U-Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? Y-Y-You're the leader of the rebellion! B-But if they've captured you …" Lokir started to hyperventilate "… oh gods … oh gods, oh gods, oh gods! Where are they taking us?!"
"I don't know, but Sovngarde awaits," Ralof said solemnly.
"N-No! No, no, no! This can't be happening! This isn't happening!" Lokir panicked. His fear was beginning to infect Aerith, who shivered frightfully in her seat.
But Daemon came to her rescue. "Don't worry," he whispered to her. "You'll be alright. Just stick with us, and we'll make sure you're safe."
Aerith nodded but said nothing, likely not trusting herself to talk.
"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" Ralof asked.
Man, were they really going to say all their scripted line? Guess so.
"Why do you care?" Lokir snapped, the panic still evident in his sunken eyes.
"Because a Nord's last thoughts should be of home."
As he said that, Kayden could see Helgen crawl into view. He glanced over to Daemon, and gave him a knowing glance. Daemon returned it with a nod. They needed to be ready for when shit hit the fan.
"I'm … Rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead," Lokir mumbled.
Ahead of them, one of the Imperial soldiers shouted from their horse, "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"
"H-Headsman?" Aerith squeaked, growing pale.
Daemon placed a hand on her shoulder. "Trust us."
Aerith swallowed, but managed to nod shakily.
"Good, let's get this over with," came the familiar voice of General Tullius, General of the Imperial Legion and Provincial Governor of Skyrim. Kayden wondered how much shit would get fucked up if Tullius didn't make it out of Helgen alive.
As Lokir began rambling off the names of the Divines in the hopes they'd miraculously save him, Kayden and Daemon watched their surrounding carefully as they entered the city of Helgen.
Right off the bat, they knew they were in trouble. This Helgen was nothing like the Helgen in the game they played countless times. For starters, it was huge. Like, way bigger than its game counterpart. There were wooden houses with straw roofs everywhere, with countless civilians exiting their homes to watch the Imperial procession with wide eyes.
Kayden scowled, and Daemon mimicked it. They should've seen this coming. Right now, they were actually in Skyrim, which made Helgen a real fucking city. There was no way a city of Skyrim would only have a handful of houses and barely a dozen people to inhabit it.
That made things difficult. Although they knew Alduin would be dropping in to wish the Dragonborn "Happy Birthday," their in-game knowledge wouldn't be able to help them escape Helgen when the layout was so drastically different.
Another thing that made Kayden's heart clench were the people. There were so many people living here! Hundreds! Children, parents, grandparents … and they would all die when Alduin burnt everything to the ground.
Hundreds would perish, and there wasn't a fucking thing they could do about it. If Kayden started screaming that Helgen was going to be attacked by a dragon soon and that they all needed to evacuate, the Imperials would only see him as a crazy bastard and lop off his head first. Fuck! He fucking hated this feeling of helplessness, yet there wasn't a damned thing he could do except grimace and choke it down.
Glancing at his bro, Kayden saw Daemon felt the exact same way.
As their emerald eyes met, the two of them made a promise: Alduin could revel in his victory today, but the motherfucker/forker would rue the day he pissed off his mortal enemy: the Dragonborn!
"Kayden," Daemon suddenly said.
"Hmm?"
Daemon cocked his head over the wagon, drawing everyone's attention to two horse-mounted riders facing one another. One was Tullius, the aged gray-haired Imperial, and the other was—to Kayden's surprise—Elenwen, Ambassador of the Thalmor in Skyrim.
"Thalmor," Ralof spat, and even Ulfric glared at Elenwen in unmistakable hatred. "I knew they were involved."
"Shut up," Daemon snapped. "Listen."
Everyone strained their ears to overhear what the Imperial General and Thalmor Ambassador were saying over the creaking of their wagon's wooden wheels.
"I'm sorry, that's just not possible," Tullius said, sounding somewhat sincere yet glowering at Elenwen as if he hoped the intensity of his glare would make her spontaneously combust. "It would cause far too many problems."
"You're making a terrible mistake!" Elenwen snarled, doing nothing to hide her distain for the Imperial General. "Your Emperor will hear of this! By the terms of the White-Gold Concordat, I operate with full Imperial—!"
They heard no more as their wagon pulled away from the bickering duo.
"Thalmor bitch," Ralof spat as they were brought farther into the heart of the city.
"W-Why is she here? What does she want?" Lokir stammered.
That was a good fucking question, because Kayden sure as hell didn't remember that part of the game ever happening. However, judging from the knowing look that crossed his bro's face, Daemon seemed to have an inkling about what was going on.
Thus, Kayden sent Daemon a questioning glance that basically boiled down to, The fuck was that Thalmor bitch doing here?
Using twin power, Daemon nonverbally managed to reply, She was here for Ulfric.
Ulfric? The fuck does she want Ulfric for?
If he dies, the civil war ends. She wanted Ulfric in her custody so he could "escape" later.
Kayden's eyebrows rose. That way the civil war continues, and the Empire weakens even further.
Daemon nodded. Forking Thalmor.
Fucking Thalmor, Kayden agreed.
"Bah! More proof the Thalmor were behind this! Damn elves!" Ralof continued to rant. Kayden wondered how badly the Stormcloak's mind would be blown if he knew that particular Thalmor was here to rescue his precious Jarl. Ralof's eyes then adopted a faraway look. "I guess this is the first time you brothers have seen Helgen. You know, I used to be sweet on a girl—"
Kayden tuned the Stormcloak out as he continued to study the very-much-alive city. His heart clenched painfully as he counted the families that stepped outside their houses to watch them pass by. It was a painfully high number. Fuck, he really wished there was something he could do for these poor bastards, but this was an us or them situation, and Kayden had always lived his life looking after the "us."
Finally, they entered a familiar clearing in the middle of the city, one filled with an entire platoon of Imperial Legion soldiers, all standing in rank and file. Among them was a female priest of Arkay who'd read their last rites, and a masked headsman holding a bloody axe.
"W-What's going on? Why're we s-stopping?" Lokir stammered, his knees knocking.
"Why do you think?" Ralof huffed as their wagon was parked to a stop beside another, this one carrying a dozen Stormcloak prisoners. "End of the line. Let's go, we shouldn't keep the gods waiting."
"No! Wait! This is a mistake! We're not rebels!" Lokir protested, though his words fell on deaf ears. After Ulfric had stepped off the end of the wagon of his own accord, Ralof had to kick Lokir into motion as the cowardly thief refused to budge.
Kayden and Daemon stood up as well, with the two of them helping Aerith to her feet. Poor girl was ready to pass out.
"Face your death with some courage, thief," Ralof mocked as the rest of them hopped off the wagon.
"P-Please, you've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake! This is all just a big mistake!"
"Shut up!"
Ah, there she is! Kayden grinned wildly as he saw everyone's favorite Imperial Captain: the Bitch. She was decked out in Imperial Legionnaire armor, with the fancy helmet and everything. Standing next to her was a solemn Nord holding a sheet of parchment in one hand and a quill in the other: good old Hadvar!
"Alright you lot! Step towards the block when we call your names! One at the time!" the Bitch ordered.
"Damn Empire loves their lists," Ralof scowled under his breath.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," Hadvar called.
Hearing his name, Ulfric Stormcloak squared his shoulders and marched towards the executioner's block, where his fellow Stormcloaks were waiting for him.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof shouted.
Ulfric paused long enough to give Ralof a grateful nod before resuming his trek.
"Ralof of Riverwood," Hadvar continued.
Ralof followed Ulfric, glaring hatefully at Hadvar all the while.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
Lokir's dwindling courage snapped like brittle glass. "No! NO! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"
With that, the Horse-Thief tried to make a break for it … only for Daemon to stick out his leg and trip the man. As Lokir ate dirt, and Captain Bitch grabbed the Horse-Thief and shoved him towards the other prisoners, Kayden sent Daemon a questioning glance.
"Just saving who I can," Daemon mumbled.
Kayden shrugged. Didn't matter to him whether Lokir died or not.
"Wait. You lot," Hadvar turned his attention to the twins and Aerith. He glanced at his list, then at them; at the list, then them. "You three, step forward."
Kayden and Daemon did as he asked, although Daemon told Aerith to, "Stay behind us."
Aerith did just that.
Once they were in front of Hadvar and Captain Bitch, Kayden snickered when he saw how short they were compared to him and Daemon. The two Legionaries had to crane their heads back to look up at them! Man, being tall rocked!
"You're … by the Gods, you're both big," Hadvar noted in mild surprise.
Captain Bitch just sneered, like she was waiting for an excuse to pull out her sword and run them both through. Chick needed to get laid, though Kayden doubted she'd ever get the chance after today.
"That's what the ladies usually say when I toss them into my bed," Kayden grinned, fully baring his teeth.
Daemon groaned. "Really, Kayden? Here? Now?"
"Always, bro."
"Enough!" Captain Bitch snapped. "Give us your names! That's an order!"
"Piss off," Kayden sneered. "I ain't in the Legion, so you're not our boss. Why don't you go find General Tullius and go suck the gas from his ass."
There was a round of chuckles coming from the Stormcloak prisoners as they overheard the confrontation going on. The Imperial soldiers remained stonefaced, although Kayden could see several of them clenching their jaws.
"You're the prisoner here, Nord! Know your place!"
"You mean besides in your pants?" Kayden asked with a wink, infuriating the Bitch further. Kayden then chose to bend down so he was face to face with Ms. I-Need-A-Good-Dick-In-Me. "What's wrong? Are you shy? Don't worry, I can be a gentle man. Why don't you give me a kiss, darling?"
He puckered his lips and made a kissy-face.
Outraged and unable to bear anymore taunting, Captain Bitch pulled back her right arm and threw a punch at Kayden's face … exactly as he'd hoped.
Instead of getting socked square in the nose, Kayden tilted his head downward so she instead punched him in the forehead, the hardest part of human skull. There was a satisfying crack as bones were broken, but not Kayden's thick skull: it was the fingers in Captain Bitch's right hand.
The Bitch howled in pain as she cradled her broken hand, while the onlooking Stormcloaks all burst into cheers.
"Thank you! Thank you! I'll be here all day!" Kayden shouted as he bowed his head. He could feel a trick of blood running down his forehead, along with a small pang of pain, but it was nothing he couldn't ignore.
"What's going on here?" Tullius demanded as he entered the clearing on horseback. Guess he was done arguing with the Thalmor cunt.
"This Nord scum attacked me!" Captain Bitch spat as the general dismounted and approached them.
Kayden scoffed. "Yes, I attacked her fist with my face. Honestly, it's hardly my fault you Legionnaire pansies can't throw a decent punch."
Old man Tullius studied Kayden for a few seconds, then said to Hadvar, "Report, soldier. What happened?"
Hadvar sighed. "The brown-haired prisoner was mocking the Captain, and she retaliated."
Tullius cocked an eyebrow. "Are you telling me she really did break her hand punching this Nord in the face?"
"Yes, General."
Tullius eyed Kayden once more, this time with a bit more interest. His gaze then shifted to his bro Daemon, then finally on Aerith.
"Who are you lot?" Tullius demanded as the priest shuffled over to Captain Bitch and cast Healing Hands on the Bitch.
Kayden stared as the priest's hands were alit with golden light that gently embraced and restored Captain Bitch's broken digits. Right, magic. Magic was real now.
"Daemon Dragoncrown," Daemon introduced himself, snapping Kayden's focus back onto the Imperial General.
"His twin brother, Kayden Dragoncrown," Kayden said.
The two of them turned to Aerith.
"I'm Aerith," she said quietly.
Tullius looked to Hadvar, who checked his list before shaking his head.
"General, what should we do? None of them are on the list," Hadvar said.
"Forget the list!" Captain Bitch spat once her hand was fully healed. "He goes to the block! They all do!"
"Stand down, captain!" Tullius barked.
"But General—!"
"I said: Stand. Down."
Cowed, Captain Bitch could do nothing but shoot dirty glares at Kayden, who responded by giving her a sultry wink. She looked like she wanted nothing more than to rip his head off with her bare hands and shove it on a pike.
"You lot Nords?" Tullius asked.
"My bro and I are," Kayden said. "Came here to see what kind of place our ma used to live in."
"So neither of you were born in Skyrim?"
"Nope," Kayden said, popping the "P".
"Then where were you born?"
Kayden shrugged. "Private."
He and his bro hadn't had time to hash out their backstory yet, so it was better if they said nothing until they got their story straight between them.
Tullius frowned. "You do realize you and your brother are minutes away from being executed. You could stand to be a bit more forthcoming."
"And does telling you change anything? No? Then I don't see the fucking point."
The general's frown deepened, but before he could say anything everyone heard something: a distant roar, one that echoed across the cloudy morning sky.
Kayden stared at his bro in alarm. The fuck's going on? It's too soon! I thought Alduin was supposed to enter the stage when the Dragonborn's head was on the block!
It's because you were dirking around! Daemon nonverbally replied. It's messed up the timing!
Aw shit, that's a good point.
"What was that?" Hadvar gasped as he, and literally everyone else, eyed the skies.
"It's nothing," Tullius said, trying to regain control of the situation. He glared at Aerith, who flinched. "What about you, girl? You don't look much like a Nord. Breton, perhaps?"
"Nord? Breton?" Aerith blankly repeated, obviously having never heard of these names before.
That sealed the deal: this girl had never played Skyrim.
"She's our childhood friend," Daemon flawlessly stepped in. "Wanted to see Skyrim, so she came with us."
"Friend, huh? And none of you are Stormcloaks?"
"We aren't, but your fucking Imperial hospitality sure has a way of changing minds!" Kayden snarked. "All we wanted to do was see our motherland, and the next thing we know we're being attacked and imprisoned by Imperial soldiers."
"You lot were caught crossing the border illegally," Tullius said sternly.
Kayden shrugged. "Wrong place, wrong time."
"You're doing very little to convince me to call off your executions."
"Ha! As if you were ever going to let us go in the first place," Kayden spat. "After all, you caught us alongside Ulfric Fucking Stormcloak." Ulfric perked up at the mention of his name. "You'll never take the chance that we aren't fucking Stormcloak spies, even though we aren't. Which is why you Imperial Cocksuckers were always going to lop off our heads no matter what we say! Fucking assholes. And even if you truly believed we were innocent, after the fucking reception you've given us you know we've been soured towards your fucking Empire! You've singlehandedly increased the chances of us joining the Stormcloak rebellion by being shitty people! Honestly, I feel like joining just to spite you motherfuckers. And you bastards can't have that, now can you? After all, I look like a fucking God of War! Bet I could singlehandedly take down ten of you Imperial pansies with a fucking spoon! Now you don't want someone like that on the enemy's side, which is all the more reason you're going to make sure we die!"
Yes, Kayden would admit he was fucking rambling right now, pulling shit straight out of his ass and slinging it in the general's face. But hey, in the game the Dragonborn barely managed to avoid getting his head lopped off thanks to Alduin's timely arrival, and if he and his bro could avoid that close call with his A+ bullshiting, then he'd spew crap all day long!
And it was working.
Rooooooaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrr!
That was Alduin's second roar! One more, and it was dragon time!
"There it is again. Did everyone hear that?" Hadvar said, even more unnerved than before.
"I said it's nothing! Put it out of your mind, soldier!" Tullius snapped.
"Y-Yes, general."
Tullius glared at Kayden, but it was hard to be scared of someone so much shorter than himself.
"You've got grievances with the Empire, son?" Tullius asked.
"No more than the next Nord," Kayden said as he slowly tensed his arms, getting ready to break out of his bindings with one swift motion. Beside him, he could feel Daemon preparing to do the same. "I think the Empire is a massive pussy for bending over and taking Dominion dick like a little bitch."
"Hear, hear!" Ralof shouted proudly.
"Hear, hear!" the other Stormcloaks shouted.
"What do you know, boy?" Tullius growled, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword so hard his knuckles were going white. "The Empire was losing the Great War! Had it gone on for any longer, we would've lost! The White-Gold Concordat is the only thing that saved the Empire!"
"Please," Kayden scoffed. "You and I both know that the White-Gold Concordat is the world's most pathetic stop measure, one that's bleeding the Empire dry while giving those Altmer assholes all the time they need to regroup and rearm themselves. Those pointy-eared motherfuckers are going to attack again, and next time they'll finish what they started."
Kayden knew Tullius agreed with him, because Tullius admitted he didn't think highly of the peace between the Empire and the Thalmor if the Dragonborn sided with the Empire in the game during the civil war.
Even so, Tullius didn't have time to muster a response, as a third sky-rending roar tore through the province, far closer than the previous two.
"Welp, looks like we're all out of time," Kayden said cockily as he tilted his head towards the sky. "I think we've all got a far more pressing matter to deal with now."
"Oh, and what would that be?" Tullius growled.
Kayden merely pointed at the sky, and a hundred heads turned to see a black-scaled behemoth flying straight towards them.
"What in Oblivion is that?!" Tullius screamed as he ripped his sword free from its sheath, as did the rest of his Legionnaires.
"That … would be the World Eater," Kayden said, right as Alduin, the Twilight God, the First Dragon of Akatosh, landed atop the nearby watchtower, nearly collapsing the entire structure beneath his titanic size and weight.
Then the First Dragon Shouted.
Unbridled POWER coursed throughout the world, bending reality to the whim of the World Eater. Jaws were dropped as the blue skies overhead became obscured by swirling malevolent clouds, followed by a downpour of fire and brimstone that baptized Helgen with the Twilight God's presence.