It was noon on a very standard day for me, as I waited next to the crosswalk of a very busy street, planning to make my way to the Dollar General across the street to buy some food. I wasn't thinking of much, instead just bitching internally about the cold, as it was winter in the City I lived in.

Eventually the walk signal turned on, and I began to make my way across the street, turning to look at the street parallel to me to make sure any cars there weren't about to drive in front of me, when I suddenly spotted a car that was veering to and fro down the street perpendicular to me.

Suddenly it veered towards me, and I could do nothing but freeze up at the sight, closing my eyes in fright, and I waited for the car to crash into me. However, for several moments, it seemed that nothing was happening.

I decided to squint open my eyes to see what was happening, and a moment later they widen in shock at what they witnessed:

Instead of the street I had been standing in, I now appeared to be standing in a bright, white expanse, like that scene in the matrix, but there was nothing else around. Had I somehow died and gone to some afterlife's waiting room?

I looked around, but there was nothing to see but an endless, white expanse. I kneeled down and touched the floor. It seemed smooth and nearly frictionless, but not slippery. I stood up again and wondered:

What the hell is going on here?

A moment later, a hovering display popped up out of nowhere, displaying:

Welcome!

You've been invited to play our new game: The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim. Immersive Edition.

Begin new game? Yes/No

I stared at the screen for a few moments. Was this like one of those Gamer fanfictions? Really? I thought those were supposed to be fictional, but apparently it was a Real Thing.

I wondered what would happen if I clicked No for a few moments, before deciding against it. I wasn't sure what would happen, but it would probably be a bad idea.

Besides, I had played Skyrim before, and apparently this would be something called the Immersive Edition, which probably meant that I would actually be living in Skyrim, as an actual person, given that this appeared to be some kind of Gamer Insert.

I reached out and pressed the button Yes, and promptly blacked out.

What felt like hours later, I came to in a sitting position, my hands tightly bound, and wearing something that felt like a burlap sack. Opening my eyes, I found myself in that same old cart that the Dragon Born usually started the game in.

A moment later, another pop up occurred:

Welcome to The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim. Immersive Edition.

You are now playing as the Last Dragon Born. Good Luck!

Difficulty: Legendary.

Provence access: Skyrim.

Note: Unlock access to the other provinces after completing the main quest.

Note: Unlock access to your race, stats, skills, and backstory by playing through the first quest: Unbound. Failure to do so will reset your game to beginning.

I had barely absorbed the words of the pop up when suddenly it despawned, and another popup appeared.

New Quest Alert!

Quest Name: Unbound

Quest Objective: Escape Imperial Custody and a Dragon Attack.

Quest Rewards: Access to your race, stats, skills, and backstory. Access to Skyrim.

Current Objective: Attend your own execution.

I raised an eyebrow. Interesting, Shouldn't be too difficult. Maybe. The difficulty was set to Legendary apparently, so maybe it would actually be a lot more difficult to survive the dragon attack.

I raised my hands to dismiss the popup when I noticed that my skin looked pure white with no texture, it was little more than an outline filled in with white, as if I was a white void that had the shape of a man. The only visible parts of me were the rags I was wearing and the rope binding my hands. Curious.

Dismissing the popup, I looked around to see that like in the normal Skyrim Intro, I was in the cart with Ralof, Lokir, and Ulfric, as we were traveling down some road high in the mountains of Skyrim.

"Hey, You," Ralof suddenly spoke up. "You're finally awake."

He paused, and a moment later I realized that he was waiting for me to respond. Huh, that was different.

"Uh, yeah," I replied mutely.

He gave me a wan smile. "You were trying to cross the boarder, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

"Damn you Stormcloaks," Lokir bit out a moment later. "Skyrim was fine until you came along, Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I'd have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."

He turned to regard me. "You there. You and me. We shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"Maybe so," I nodded. "But we're here, regardless of where we should or shouldn't be."

"Yes, we're all brothers and sisters in binds now, Thief," Ralof commented.

Lokir scoffed.

"Shut up, back there!" The Imperial who was driving the cart yelled back at us.

I rolled my eyes, and turned to look at Lokir, expecting him to speak up again. But he was silent, and for several minutes, the cart trudged along in silence.

Several minutes turned into an hour, and another, and all through out, the cart continued to trudge along, occasionally bumping into rocks. The movement of the cart seemed to rattle my bones, and I realized that I was shivering from the cold. It was snowing, and I could feel the snow building up on my skin, for all that I was a white void in the shape of a man. I wondered how long this trip would take. Any longer than this and I was liable to die from hypothermia.

Eventually Lokir worked up the courage to ask: "Whats up with this guy here?"

"Watch your tongue," Ralof bit out sharply. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the True High King of Skyrim."

"Ulfric, the Jarl of Windhelm?" Lokir asked in shock. "But… you're the leader of the rebellion! If they've got you… if they've captured you… Oh gods! Where are they taking us?!"

"I don't know where we're going," Ralof replied in a muted tone. "… but Sovngarde awaits."

"No, this can't be happening," Lokir muttered in frightful disbelief. "This can't be happening!"

"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" asked Ralof in a conciliatory tone.

"Why do you care?" Lokir asked bitterly.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," Ralof replied softly.

"Rorikstead," Lokir stuttered out. "I'm… I'm from Rorikstead."

We lapsed into another period of silence, and thankfully a few minutes later we rounded a bend and were in sight of the south gate of Helgen, and I got my first look at it: far from the very small settlement that was in the original game, here Helgen looked like a proper walled town, with walls expanding to either side of us for several hundred meters. The south gate looked pretty large, and as we reached it, one of the guards from the top of the gate house called out to our procession:

"General Tullius, sir!" the Guard called. "The headsman is waiting!"

"Good, lets get this over with," General Tullius called back.

With that the procession passed through the game, and we entered Helgen proper, and I looked around to get a proper look at what the real Helgen looked like:

The procession passed down what looked like a main street, with a large number of houses on either side of us. They looked like typical nordic houses, with foundations and walls made of stone, and upper floors made of wood. The nordic houses were distinct in construction from the imperial walls, which looked a lot older and made of better materials. The streets were muddy and poorly maintained, and as our cart made its way down the streets, I noticed that the houses also looked dilapidated. Was this part of Helgen some kind of slum?

"Shor! Mara! Dibella! Kynareth! Akatosh! Divines, please help me!" Lokir was praying under his breath.

"Look at him, General Tullius the military governor," Ralof growled as General Tullius broke off from the main procession to head into a side street. "And it looks like Thalmore are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this!"

Looking at General Tullius as our cart passed by him, it seemed that he was indeed speaking with a group of High Elves dressed in the Thalmore uniforms. I was suddenly reminded of the subreddit TES lore theory that the whole Stormcloak rebellion was a plot cooked up by the Thalmore to weaken the Empire before the next Great War.

I turned to look at Ulfric, who, due to his gag, hadn't spoken the whole trip. Did he even know that he was a pawn of the Thalmore? I'd always thought that he was an unwitting pawn, but as far as I knew, there hadn't been anything in the original game to say one way or the other.

A moment later I noticed Lokir staring at me with a look of pure fear on his face, his eyes screaming: Do something! Save me from this Fate!

I sighed, and considered the merit of trying to save Lokir from his own foolish actions. Maybe if I said something, he wouldn't try to run away.

"Lokir," I said a moment later. "Whatever you do, don't run."

Lokir blinked. "How… how do you know my name?"

I blinked back at him. "Uh, random guess? I've always been good with names."

Lokir pursed his lips. "Pretty good guess."

"Yeah," I nodded. "Anyway, promise me you won't run."

Lokir looked away instead of replying, which I took as a refusal. Well, I did what I could.

The procession continued down the main road, and eventually we arrived into what looked like a market square, where there were a large number of shops and people hawking their wares or buying them. A few of them stopped to gawk at us.

"This is Helgen," Ralof spoke up a moment later. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe…"

"Did you grow up here?" I asked curiously.

"No," Ralof shook his head. "I grew up in Riverwood, a small logging town about a weeks travel from here. My father and I used to come here once a month with a few carts full of logs to sell."

"I see," I replied, looking at him thoughtfully. "Why does this place look like a slum?"

Ralof smirked. "Yes, it isn't as pretty as Whiterun or Windhelm, is it? It's owned and run by the Imperial Legion, though I guess the Legion doesn't pay it's legionnaires as much as it used to. From Helgen they control the Pale Pass, and send their legionnaires out across Skyrim as they are want to."

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. "So in other words, Helgen is important militarily, but not economically?"

Ralof stared at me. "What, are you some kind of scholar?"

I looked back at him. "Well… no. I'm just well read."

"I see," Ralof raised his eyebrows. "It's a pity we're all about to be executed, the Stormcloaks could have used someone like you."

"Why?" I asked curiously.

"Well, it's a rare thing, a bleep who knows his letters," Ralof nodded.

Oh, right. It was a medieval setting, where literacy couldn't exactly be called common. And did Ralof just have one of his words bleeped out? Huh.

As we'd been talking, the procession had made it's way through the market square, and was now heading towards what looked like an Imperial Fortress, which was situated on a short hill, north of the market square. It wasn't long before we passed through another set of gates and entered the fortress proper, where a group of soldiers were waiting for us, along with a priest and the headsman.

The Execution block was laid out in front of what looked like the main keep of the fortress, and the carts in the procession made to park near it.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts!" yelled that self same Imperial Captain that condemned the Dragon Born in the games to execution. "Move it!"

"Why are we stopping?" asked Lokir as the carts made to park.

"Why do you think?" Ralof grunted. "End of the line."

Then the carts were parked.

"Lets go," Ralof muttered. "Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."

"No, wait!" Lokir choked out as we made to stand. "We're not rebels! You can't do this to us!"

"Face your death with some courage, Thief!" Ralof hissed from behind me.

"You've got to tell them!" Lokir hissed back, trembling with fear as he stepped down from the cart. "We weren't with you, This is a mistake."

"You don't speak for me, fool," I muttered myself as I made to step down from the cart myself.

"Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time," the Imperial Captain called at us.

Ralof sighed. "Empire loves their damned lists..."

The Imperial Captain got out a roll of parchment and handed it to Hadvar, who, having followed the procession the whole time, had gotten off his horse and was now standing next to her.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," Hadvar read out.

Ulfric walked to the block and Hadvar made a tick on the parchment with his quill.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof called out.

"Ralof of Riverwood," Hadvar read out next, and Ralof walked up to the block himself.

"Lokir of Rorikstead," Hadvar read out after that.

"NO! I'm not a Rebel, You can't do this!" Lokir yelled as he took a step forward, and the next moment he was off like an arrow, dashing as fast as he could towards the gates.

"HALT!" the Imperial Captain yelled as he ran of, and when she realized he wasn't going to halt, she called out: "ARCHERS!"

A group of five archers who had been standing near the gates made to draw their bows and shoot at him. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to get away, as four of the arrows missed him. However, one arrow struck him in the back of the knee, and he sprawled over, no longer able to support his weight on that leg.

However, he was still alive, and made to crawl out as fast as he could, until another archer shot him in the head. He was dead.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The Imperial Captain turned back to look at us. I chose to remain silent.

"Hey, you there," said Hadvar a moment later. "Step forward."

I did so, stepping as close as I dared.

"Who… are you?" Hadvar asked.

All of a sudden, the world around me froze and became grayscaled. I felt myself being moved and turned around, and I saw that where I had originally stood, a fairly standard looking nord had taken my place. A moment later, a popup appeared:

Chose race:

Nord

Breton

Imperial

Redguard

Khajiit

Argonian

Orc

High Elf

Dark Elf

Wood Elf

After considering each option for a moment, I decided to go with Dark Elf, as I had always liked their culture from Morrowind.

After I had made my choice, the popup closed and another popup appeared, one that apparently dealt with customizing my appearance, with a number of sliders that dealt with changing my appearance here and there.

I decided to make my character dark haired, with an angular face, long pointy chin, close set eyes, pointy down turned nose, bushy brows angled upwards, and full lips. For a hairstyle I went with a topknot, and facial hair chose a soul patch and thin mustache.

For body shape I decided to make my character thin and wiry, but with corded muscle. I noticed that I had a lot more options here than in the original game.

When it came to blemishes, I decided to keep my character clean faced, but gave him a wicked scar under his left eye, and some black war paint to cover it up. You know, just to add a bit of character to my character.

When I was done I dismissed the second popup but a third popup appeared:

Name: ?

[Random Name Generator]

Nonplussed, I pressed the random name generator button, and a name popped up in the name slot: Enaris Veran.

It sounded appropriately Dunmer sounding, but it wasn't quite right for me. I clicked the random name generator a few times until a name popped up that sounded somewhat cool: Theldus Servvon. I wanted to edit the name, but there didn't seem to be a way to do that, as there didn't appear to be any kind of interface. Perhaps I was stuck with whatever name the random name generator came up with.

I dismissed the popup, and a moment later I found myself back in my body, only now instead of being a white void in the shape of a man, I was a Dunmer. A Dark Elf.

This new body felt strange, as if there was some kind of power hidden within my core. I now carried the blood line of a race of mer that had been changed by the three good daedra, Azura, Boethiah, and Mephala, and the three living gods, Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil. I carried all the lessons and memories of the dunmeri cultural legacy in my skin.

Suddenly, another popup appeared:

You have chosen the race of Dunmer, or Dark Elf.

Positive Bonus: Ancestor Spirit: negates 75% of Fire Damage.

Positive Bonus: Ancestor Spirit: Fire Spells Cost 25% lest Magicka to cast.

Positive Bonus: Mer: +260 years bonus added to lifespan

Positive Bonus: Mer: +50 Magicka added to Magicka Pool.

Positive Bonus: Mer: +10 Reputation with all Mer factions and individuals

Positive Bonus: Dunmer: +20 Reputation with all Dunmeri factions and individuals

Positive Bonus: Power: Ancestor's Wraith: Once a day, activate this power to summon an aura of fire that will damage foes surrounding you for 2 minutes. Consumes all Magicka available. Damage increases per point of Magicka consumed.

Negative Bonus: Dunmer: Access to Dunmeri curse-words and slurs. Use with caution.

Negative Bonus: Dunmer: Haughty Personality trait. Non-negotiable.

Negative Bonus: Dunmer: -40 reputation with all Argonian factions and individuals

Negative Bonus: Dunmer: -30 reputation with all Khajiit factions and individuals.

Negative Bonus: Dunmer: -20 reputation with all Nord factions and individuals.

Negative Bonus: mer: -10 reputation with Men factions and individuals

Note: Individual reputations can be ameliorated by individual personality traits.

"Another refugee?" Hadvar asked curiously. "Gods really have abandoned your people, Dark Elf."

"They didn't abandon us, we abandoned them," I muttered quietly, while quietly contemplating the popup in front of me. That was a lot of negatives, but I supposed the positives were worth it.

"Captain, what should we do?" Hadvar asked the captain. "He's not on the list."

"Forget the list, he goes to the block," The captain commanded cruelly.

"By your orders, captain," Hadvar replied shortly, turning back to me. "I'm sorry, Dark Elf. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Morrowind. Follow the captain, Prisoner."

I nodded, and followed the captain as she walked up to the block, and I came to standstill amongst the other prisoners, and noticed that General Tullius was there, standing in front of Ulfric.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," General Tullius spat out with vitriol. "Some here in Helgen call you a Hero. But a Hero doesn't use the power of the Voice murder his king and usurp his throne!"

Ulfric attempted to speak, but all that came out was a few muffled sounds.

Tullius gave Ulfric a hard poke on the chest. "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down… and restore the peace!"

As if to punctuate his words, a sudden roaring could be heard, echoing out from the surrounding mountains. It was loud, but distant.

"What was that?" asked Hadvar in confusion.

"It's nothing," Tullius replied irritably as he made to walk off. "Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius!" said the Imperial Captain, before turning to the priest that was standing nearby. "Give them their last rites."

The priest nodded, and raised her hand. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved-"

What she was going to say next was lost to me, as an angry Stormcloak suddenly spoke up in a harsh voice. "For the love of Talos, shut up and lets get this over with."

The priestess closed her mouth with a clack of the teeth. "As you wish."

While the Stormcloak had been speaking, he had walked over to the block. "Come on! I don't have all morning!"

The Imperial Captain walked over and kicked him in the back, causing him to fall over and hit the block with his torso.

"Not so roughly, Captain," Tullius barked out.

"Yes, sorry, General." The Captain nodded back contritely. She bent over and pulled the Stormcloak back a bit, bringing his head to rest on the block.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials!" he yelled as the Captain held him down. "Can you say the same!?"

A moment later the headsman's axe came down, and the Stormcloak was liberated from his head. I forced myself to watch the deed, afraid to look away.

"You Imperial bastards!" a female Stormcloak cried out a moment later.

It seemed to create a wave of calls from the nearby Imperial soldiers, some calling "Justice!", others calling "Death to the Stormcloaks!"

"As fearless in death, as he was in life," Ralof said sorrowfully from my left.

"Next, the Dark Elf," the Captain called, pointing at me.

A moment later, another roar came echoing from the mountains.

"There is is again!" said Hadvar. "Did you hear that?"

"I said, next prisoner!" The Captain commanded.

Hadvar sighed, before looking at me. "To the Block, Prisoner. Nice and Easy."

I sighed myself, before slowly walking towards the block. I knew that I wouldn't die, but still, facing the headsman's axe was kind of scary.

As I stood in front of the block, the Captain gave me a hard push, pushing me with unnecessary forcefulness to the block, and I found myself facing to the left, looking to the headsman as he held up his axe.

Thankfully, in the next moment, Alduin arrived, and his arrival created enough of an impact that the Headsman stumbled and dropped his axe behind him. Additionally, the Captain had been pushed to the side by the impact, releasing the pressure she had placed on my back. With that, I was able to sit up, and get my first full look at Alduin.

And that was when I realized that I might have made a fatal miscalculation: This Alduin was not the Alduin from the video game. No, this Alduin was a true fantasy dragon, with six limbs; four of which were legs, and two of which were wings. Also, he was huge; he was standing on the keep, all four legs clutching a different corner under it, but he was large enough that his legs were bent under him, as if he were a dragonfly holding on to a piece of grass. His wingspan was so wide that it cast a shadow upon the whole courtyard of the fortress, and his neck was so long that he had to bend his head under him to look at the section of the courtyard that I was sitting in.

No, he was looking at me, where I was sitting in front of the execution block, and I realized, in that moment, that it was me he was here for. He couldn't care less for the other vermin that crawled under his feet. No, he was here for a dragon. Or, for someone with a dragon soul.

A Dovahkiin.

Suddenly, another popup appeared:

Congratulations! You have received the blessing of Akatosh, and your soul is now that of a dragon!

Positive Bonus: Dovahzul comprehension: You have an innate understanding of Dovahzul, in it's spoken and written form.

Positive Bonus: Dragon Soul Consumption: once you have slain a Dragon, you may consume their soul to gain all of their memories and understanding of Dovahzul, as well as any Thu'um they have created.

Positive Bonus: Soul Shrouding: You have an innate ability to shroud your soul, to prevent other Dragons from sensing it. Also prevents other soul detecting entities from detecting your soul. Warning: Shrouding your Soul is seen as weak and cowardly by other dragons.

Negative Bonus: Dragon Personality: You now have an innate desire to dominate others around you. You now are innately distrustful of others. You now have an innate desire for the company of others. Warning: Attempting to ignore your desires for an extended period of time will cause insanity.

Negative Bonus: Dragon Challenge: Dragons will now actively seek you out in an attempt to dominate you.

Negative Bonus: Dragon Soul: If killed by a Dragon after the events of the Main Quest, your soul will be consumed by it, instead of reverting to the beginning of the game.

I stared at the list of bonuses. Well shit. I guess being the Dovahkiin is not all it's cracked up to be.