Chapter 2

I couldn't tell how long it had been, or when it had happened. But the first thing I noticed was the thunder of my heartbeat. It was like standing next to a large drum, attached to an amplifier. Impossibly loud. The next thing I felt was the blood rushing under my skin. It felt wrong. One shouldn't be able to feel that. Finally, my skin, and the sting of the cold.

I felt it in my lungs too. A sharp, passive cold.

"Hey, you! Your finally awake." A voice said. Something in the back of my mind triggered a sense of familiarity. But I was still preoccupied by the literal feeling of being alive. I hated it. But my eyes cracked open none the less.

It was so fucking bright! My eyes snapped shut immediately. "You tried to cross the boarder, same as us, and that thief over there. Walked right into that imperial ambush."

He sounded burly. And it was then I noticed that we were moving. On top of that the niggling feeling of familiarity was growing.

"Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If it hadn't been for you, I could've stolen that horse and be half way to Hammerfall. You there, you and me, we shouldn't be here. Its these Stormcloaks the empire wants!"

Wait, Stormcloaks? My eyes finally adjusting to the light, I could see where I was. The answer had me give out a quick laugh. Then a few more. My companions gave me wary looks, but I couldn't bring myself to care. It was the Meme! The skyrim one! It was so absurd and surreal, and I just couldn't stop laughing.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." Ralof said to Lokir.

"Shut up back there!" Our driver admonished. What a dick.

"I'm gonna laugh so hard when a dragon eats you" I said. Ralof gave me an odd look for my choice of phrase. Beside me, an elf woman with dark red hair scoffed.

"Right" Lokir said. " wonderful! Ones a damn elf, one of you is mad, the other is gagged."

"Watch your tongue! You speak to Ulfric Stormcloak." Ralof snapped. "The true high king of skyrim."

Lokir's face seemed to lose all color. A feat that was particularly impressive with how flushed form the cold we all were. The silent woman beside me raised her eye brow at the larger man next to her. "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?"

I couldn't help myself. This had to be a delusion. One created by my dying mind. It had to be. Nothing else made sense. And that meant nothing mattered. And it was the FUNNIEST SHIT EVER!

Something inside me seemed to break at that. I could feel it like a small splitter in a pane of glass. Before Ralof could answer, I giggled and made a gesture with my bound hands. Dragging one of my thumbs across my throat. I also made a slup noise out of my mouth.

It was as if my filter was totally broken. The things I usually kept to myself, to not seem like an asshole; They just escaped my mouth, and I couldn't seem to gather the will to care. The red head beside me rolled her eyes. And I think I heard Ulfric say something through his gag.

Hilariously though Lokir's skin went even paler. The snow looked a few shades darker than him. I wonder if that was healthy? I struggled to contain the giggles.

"Well, a bit crude" Ralof cringed. "but yes. Where ever were going, Soverngard is undoubtedly waiting." He was a bit cheery, if resigned, I decided.

-sigh- "Why do they always make me transport the crazy ones?" the Soldier whined.

That made me break out into a new set of giggles. I had once heard that we laugh in response to something being wrong. Well, if that was the case, this whole scenario was a comedy house.

"At least your not riding with him." Snarked the Elf. This seemed to amuse the Soldier, as he gave a quick "Ha!".

"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" Ralof asked directed at lokir.

"Why do you care?" He bit back petulently.

Ralof took a few seconds to reply. As if in deep thought."A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." He said finally. His words holding a certain weight.

Lokir seemed to lose all his fight. "Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead."

We sat in silence for a few minutes after that. It gave me time to think. I had played skyrim quite a bit in my youth. And even as an adult when I could find the time. I could say for certain, that the Elf sitting next to me wasn't a part of the regular opening.

So that begged the question. Who was the dragonborn in this wonderful little dream? Her? Or me? A fun little mystery I doubted I would have time to figure out.

Looking closer at her, I saw she was a Bosmer. Or wood elf for the uneducated. She was also in rag-clothing like me, rather than blue-black armor. So she wasn't a stormcloak. Her most noticeable trait was her deep red hair. It was tied in a lose pony tail, and fell over her shoulders. Caked in sweat, the fringe strands clung to her forehead. Her eyes however, weren't the traditional dark yellow on black. But a pale yellow on white. A half-elf? Perhaps. "What are you looking at, nutcase?" she growled. I smiled in what I hoped was a pleasant gesture. She just scowled at me.

A bit of time passed and I was left to admire how blue the sky was. It was night and day from my world. Like someone turned color correction on the earth sky. So very deep and endless blue.

Once the cart in front if us got to the gate however, an Imperial could be heard. "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"

After a few minutes of silent travel, we arrived through the gates of Helgan. It was pretty impressive all things considered. I was busy straining my neck to see everything. I must have been quite the site with my eyes all wide, a huge grin on my face. Ralof said something about berries and mead. I had heard it all before, so I wasn't paying that much attention to him. He didn't seem to mind. I did glance at my companion. She looked as if she couldn't care less if she tried. Finally, the horses cane to a stop. We started to stand up, before I stage whispered to him.

"Pst. Lokir!" everyone looked straight at me. "Don't run. It never works. You always die. Just wait until the dragon attacks. We can escape then." The elf woman in front of me scoffed before hopping down.

Lokir just ignored me and stepped out at the angry captains prompt.

The guards began to read off our names. First, Ulfric, then Ralof, then Lokir.

"Lokir of rorakstead" Droned Hadvar.

Lokir began to panic. "NO! YOU'VE GOT TO TELL THEM" he directed at Ralof "WE WERENT WITH YOU!" But as always, the Imperials didn't care. So as usual Lokir started his doomed sprint. "Your not gonna catch me!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Archers!" The captain ordered. A valley later and Lokir was a pin cushion. Eh. I tried. Man this is lasting way longer than I thought it would. I thought. How long would my brain keep this up until I actually died?

"Aerana of cyradil". The elf stepped off the cart. Aerana huh? It was a nice name. And from cyradil, just a stones throw from here.

"Next! The …nord!" Cried the woman. She was ANGRY. Unreasonably so. Wonder what her problem was. Would it be appropriate to make a PMS joke? Nah. Gotta have standards.

"Who are you" asked Hadvar.

OH GOD! My mind jumped to the perfect quote. I couldn't help myself. If this was all a dream, then I might as well make the best of it before it ends.

"Now you." I said winking a Hadvar. "You can call me Ann Marie." Hadvar started to write with his quill. "But only if you're partial to being flayed alive and having an angry immortal skip rope with your entrails!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. Hadvar, the Imperial Captain, and Aerana jumped at the loudness of my voice, before I continued in a much calmer and friendly voice. "If not... Then call me, Sheogorath , Daedric Prince of Madness. Charmed." I briefly wondered how the dapper man himself would react to me using his name. But I decided he would find it funny, and reminded myself this was all a dream.

The grin on my face felt like it was gonna split my face in half when I saw Aerana's eyes widen. It must have been pretty convincing too, because Hadvar took a step back. Shame I couldn't pull off a Scottish accent.

"Well" he recovered by clearing his throat. He then turned to his commanding officer. "Err, captain, he's, that is to say, that name, is not on the list. What do we do?"

In all fairness, he looked genuinely guilty. Like he didn't really want to be here. Couldn't blame him honestly.

"Are you a fool?" Hadvar flinched at the harshness of her voice. And my elf eared companion winced a little. "He's lying! Or plain crazy. Either way, forget the list, he goes to the block." What a charming woman.

"I'm sorry prisoner. To the block with you." Said Hadvar writing more with his quill.

"It's cool," I directed at Hadvar. Then as I walked passed his captain, I flashed her a smile. "I can't wait to kill you in that old fort. I'm gonna look great in that armor." She looked at me perplexed before she scoffed. Aerana gave me side glance as she took her place a few paces from myself.

Taking my place in row, I listened to Tulius rant at Ulfric. He was…really old. Was he this old in the lore? I could see his stylized armor was barley clinging to him. He looked like he was 60 at the youngest. When he spoke, I could see the spital fly from his mouth and onto Ulfric's face. The bear of a man didn't even flinch. Wow. That's kinda bad ass.

I always hated Ulfric. His goals seemed short sited and selfish. But looking at him in person, I had to give it to him. He had a presence. An unspoken kind of aura that made you want to look up to him. His entire being just screamed "Unbreakable"

The priest started going on about commending our souls to the autherius. But at the mention of the 8 divines rather than the 9, one of the rebels seemed to have enough.

"For the love of Talos, shut up and lets get this over with" he said marching forward.

"You sure?" I asked him as he passed near. "If you wait like 30 more seconds, a dragon will show up and cause enough panic for us to escape." I offered.

"You shut up as well! I could hear you raving all the way from the other cart!" He snapped in my face. I blinked, not ready for that level of hostility.

"Your funeral" I shrugged. As he was placed on the block, I couldn't help but absentmindedly notice that the Imperial captain stood in the correct position to place her boot on the rebel's back. Rather than, you know, standing a few steps away and sliding into the right spot. Something about that was very satisfying.

CHOP.

Wow. That's a lot of blood. This delusion is pretty fucked up…I'm pretty fucked up. I don't think he bled that much in the game. The vanilla one anyway.

A loud sound echoed across the valley. Everyone paused for a moment. "What was that?" asked a legionnaire.

"Probably a dragon" I interjected.

"Nevermind that." Tulius said. He sounded bored.

The captain looked directly at me. "Next, the madman!" The she proclaimed with a look of pure sadism. I seem to have annoyed her slightly. At least enough so that I was before the elf. I guess this means I was the dragonborn. Probably. Or she just really hated me. From the look on her face, probably that one. Wonder why? With a shrug and a skip, I was standing in front of the chopping block. Looking to the Orcsmer in the black hood I said.

"Just a bit off the top please. I'm meeting with someone very important today." He just glared in response. It seems the headsman didn't think I was funny.

Then a steel boot slammed into my back with way more force than necessary. Rude. I'm starting to think this woman didn't like me.

As I lay my head on the block, a perfect view of the top of the tower, I couldn't help but note that there was blood on the block. Gross. It was in my hair. Ew. It was sticky. And the block was cold.

The headsman raised his axe. And I smiled up at him. Just before he could put his back into the swing, Alduin landed atop the tower.