A raging headache was the first thing Skara experienced as his eyes flickered open. His vision was shaky as he surveyed the area around him. He tried to move his hands but felt the rope tied around them. They were bound.
'Oh boy…' he thought, attempting to take in his surroundings. Where was he-
"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."
Skara hissed in pain at the loud voice as it seemed to worsen his already bad headache. He also felt a separate sharp pain from the back of his head. It felt thin, almost like the nick of an… arrow?
What in the divine's names had happened to him?
"W-What?" he replied to the voice. His reply came out rough and as a stutter, almost like he almost seemed unused to his own voice. "What happened?"
"I am sorry kinsman," the voice apologized, noticing his negative reaction. Skara's eyes finally landed on the source. It was a Nord. He had long blonde hair, was well-built and had intense blue eyes.
"It's fine!" he replied quickly. The headache seemed to subside and Skara let out a shaky breath. His senses seemed to return as he realized they were moving on something. A cart, probably.
"What's going on?" he asked the Nord, his eyes flicking around and taking in the area. He noticed two other people on the cart. They were both nords, but that seemed to be where the similarities ended.
The first one was in rags, his black hair matted with dirt and what was most likely sweat. He was rather skinny and had a panicked look in his eye. Like he'd run from the situation if he could. Skara tried stamping on the negative emotion that seemed to flare up in him. He didn't like cowards.
The other Nord seemed to radiate an aura of authority. Skara could tell he was tall, muscular, and dressed in what seemed to be a mix of noble clothes and armor. He was gagged but had a passion in his eye that would've made Skara step back if he wasn't sitting down.
Who was he?
"Kinsman," the blonde Nord said again.
Skara turned towards him, nodding.
"I am Ralof of Riverwood," he introduced himself, his voice strong and carrying a rich accent.
"You were caught in an Imperial ambush, same as us," he repeated, before motioning towards the black-haired Nord. "And that thief over there."
The thief in question flinched, his entire posture changing as he seemed to want to crawl into a ball. His head lifted back up, fear the most prominent emotion in his eyes.
"T-This is your fault!" the thief stuttered out, his eyes failing to meet anyone else's in the group. "The Empire was nice and lazy before this pointless rebellion!"
There was a moment of silence, Skara noted before Ralof couldn't take it anymore.
"Watch your tongue!" he yelled out, the look in his eye's beyond angry. "You're talking to the true High King: Ulfric Stormcloak!"
He looked like he wanted to do a bit more than yell, but the man who was now identified as Ulfric gave him a look. It commanded respect, regardless if he was changed and gained. Ralof obeyed, a sigh escaping his lips.
"I am sorry, my Jarl," he said, bowing his head in respect to Ulfric.
Ulfric nodded, his gaze powerful even while restrained.
"I am Skara…" he trailed off, mind coming up black as he tried to grasp for a last name. The confusion must have been evident on his face as Ralof looked a bit concerned.
"Are you alright Skara?" he asked, blue eyes looking over Skara for any wounds that could be affecting him.
"Yes," Skara replied, a frown now present on his face.
"Where are we going?" he asked, eyes focused on Ralof.
"Helgen most probably," Ralof replied.
"Why?" Skara asked, a sense of foreboding sitting at the bottom of his stomach.
There was a pause as Ralof seemed to study his soul with how intently he was being looked at.
What was going on?
"Execution," Ralof said, voice barely above a whisper.
Skara could feel something in his stomach drop, a cold sensation spreading along his body as his veins seemed to be on fire.
"W-What?" he said, voice spluttering as he realized he was going to die.
"It's because of the Stormcloaks!" A voice cut in, coming from the smaller nord. "It's because of these stormcloaks that we're going to die.
Me and you?" he said, motioning towards himself and Skara. "We're not meant to be here! Now we're going to die for some rebellion over some stupid go-
"Enough!" the carriage driver called out, Skara only noticing him now.
He was an imperial. He had the usual black hair, and tanned skin. His legion armor looked a bit snug, his physique a bit rounder than the average imperial soldier.
"You're all going to the headsman block and that's the end of it. You chose your side and you lost!" he said, the Imperial accent becoming much more obvious the more he spoke.
The imperial turned back to the front, and Skara noticed a village? No, it was an outpost.
It wasn't the biggest place, Skara thought, but it seemed to house tens, if not hundreds of soldiers. What was this place?
"Is this Helgen?" Skara whispered, tilting his head towards Ralof.
"Aye," Ralof replied, voice equally quiet. "It's a military outpost."
He stopped whispering for a few moments, seeming to reminisce about something. He looked back at Skara before he began talking again. His eyes were misty.
"I used to be sweet on a girl here," Ralof said. "I wonder if she still makes the mead mixed with juniper berries?" he asked, voice still a whisper.
"Imperial walls and battlements," he carried on, voice carrying a tinge of sadness. "They used to make me feel so safe…"
Skara looked at the armaments of the outpost.
The grey of the walls was worn, the bricks breaking down even with constant reinforcement from scaffolding.
It felt like a graveyard.
He didn't know how anyone could feel safe here.
Skara looked at the rear of the cart he was on, finally noticing that there were a lot of carts behind them. He could only wonder if everyone was going to be executed.
What would happen to their bodies? Would they just be tossed outside the gates, and the surrounding wildlife would just eat them?
Not even a grave?
Ralof seemed to notice Skara's face take on a hardened edge, his eyes darkening as these depressing thoughts seemed to flutter in and out of his mind. He nudged his kinsman.
"Do not be afraid," Ralof said quietly, similar to the reassurances of a father. "You may be young, but the halls of sovngarde will beckon for you."
"Sovngarde…" Skara repeated, flashes of something running through his mind as he was reminded about the divine realm.
A man with dark hair and blue eyes told him about a place like that. Skara wondered if it was his father? Was his father alive, his mother? Would anyone know that he died?
Would anyone care?
He shook those dark thoughts aside, instinctual bravery taking over him as the carts when through the gates of Helgen. He may die here, but he'd die with his honor intact.
He felt like it was what his father would want.
The cart came to a halt as Skara made up his mind. He looked around, the other carts coming to a stop next to theirs.
The men and women on the carts had a hard resolve on their faces. Skara didn't think he was the best at reading people, but they almost seemed ready to die. They showed no fear.
Could he do the same?
"Line up!" A feminine voice barked out.
Skara turned his head towards the source, seeing a woman in armor that was different from the normal armor that the soldiers had been wearing.
She seemed a bit older, with greying hair under her helmet and a few wrinkles across her face. She had dark blue eyes, almost black and a scar that ran from her right ear to the bottom left of her chin.
She had a man next to her, slightly taller than her with long brown hair and a concerned face as he looked at all the prisoners. He had what seemed to be a list in his hands.
"Line up!" she barked out again. She sounded like a leader.
The prisoners started lining up, and Skara joined them. He stood third in line, with Ulfric in front and Ralof behind him. This was it.
"Ulfric Stormcloak: Jarl of Windhelm." the brown-haired man said, his voice neutral as Ulfric stepped forward. They directed him towards an area, and it was then that Skara noticed the executioner.
His axe glinted in the sun.
Skara swallowed as he stepped forward with Ralof.
"Ralof of Riverwood," the list keeper said, his voice no longer completely neutral. It carried a hint of sadness.
"Hadvar," Ralof spat, glowering at the man in front of him.
"Quiet!" the captain said, her eyes locked onto Ralof.
"Step towards the block traitor," she said after a moment of staring him down. Ralof scowled as he stood next to his jarl. She nodded her head before turning her attention to Skara.
"Who are you?" Hadvar asked, confused as he surveyed the list.
"Captain," he said, after another moment of looking. "He's not on the list."
The captain nodded her head, stepping towards Skara. It took him a moment to notice he was almost a foot taller than her.
"You are?" she asked, her voice less stern than it had been with Ralof.
"Skara," he replied, wondering what was happening.
"Skara of?" she asked, surprisingly patient with him as her eyes trailed around his body, honing in on something just below his neck.
"I don't know," Skara replied, a hint of red creeping up his neck at close attention. He apparently didn't handle the opposite gender well.
The look on the woman's face seemed to be halfway between amusement and exasperation at his reaction.
"Captain?" Hadvar asked, confused by her inspection.
"You must've been hit in the head very hard when you were found in the ambush," she said, pointing towards something underneath his neck.
"Do you know what this is?" she asked.
Skara looked down, noticing a necklace dangling around his neck. It was an odd shape, a golden sword piercing something that could've been a shield or a crown. How hadn't he noticed that?
But, an odd feeling entered his chest when he saw it. A tightness that represented familiarity, and some sort of longing. He was going to die for it, but he couldn't give it up.
A sharp pain entered his head as he flinched, the captain taking a step back at his sudden movement.
It was then that Skara remembered something, not in its entirety, but the ghost of a memory.
'Remember Skara, a man should always have something he believes in. You should protect those beliefs. It's better to die on your feet, than live on your knees.'
"Talos." Skara said, the captain barely able to hear his voice. "It represents Talos, the man who became a god."
The captain scowled at his response, turning her head a fraction to look at something before turning back to him.
She was looking at a group of Altmer.
"You foolish child, you shouldn't die here," she whispered a very sad note to her voice.
Her eyes hardened as she turned towards Hadvar.
"You heard him, he's going to the block with the rest of them," she commanded, her voice an octave lower as she sentenced a young boy to die.
There were a few storm cloaks around him that had heard the interaction, and Skara acknowledged their looks of pride. No matter what he was before this, these people comforted him with the fact he wasn't going to die alone.
The least he could do was die like a man.
"At least," Hadvar said, a sorrowful look aimed at Skara. "You'll die here, in your homeland."
Skara wasn't sure what to say, so he simply nodded before standing next to Ralof. The Nord nodded towards him, and so did Ulfric as more people started standing with them near the rows of executioners blocks.
After a few minutes, all prisoners were accounted for.
"Ulfric Stormcloak." an imperial said, wearing a set of armor that he hadn't seen before. He carried an air of confidence and leadership that almost all soldiers lacked. He had greying hair and coal-black eyes with tanned skin.
He wasn't tall, standing a few inches less than Ulfric as he got into the man's space. His black eyes seemed to try and burn holes into Ulfric.
"First you murdered your king and plunged Skyrim into chaos. Your actions have resulted in the deaths of thousands! All for your own lust for power, and your need to be in control!"
Ulfric didn't respond, but Skara could see if he wasn't gagged this conversation wouldn't be so one-sided.
"And now, we're going to put you down and restore the peace!" he finished, victory in his eyes as he stepped back from the Jarl.
"Get on with it!" he yelled, eyes turning towards the captain that had spoken to Skara.
"Give them their last rites," she said simply, face emotionless as her eyes flicked to Skara and then the rest of the people there.
As she said that, a woman in robes stepped forward. Skara couldn't see her face, but she spoke with a comforting voice. She sounded like an older woman.
"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divine-
"Nine!" A voice yelled out. He sounded furious as he stepped forward.
"What?" the woman asked.
"Nine!" he said again.
"For the love of Talos woman! If you aren't going to do it right," he said, walking forward and placing himself on the executioner's block. "Then I don't want to hear it!"
Skara could only marvel at his bravery. He didn't know if he could ever do something like that.
"Very well," the priestess said with an annoyed tone, stepping back.
"My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials," he said, his voice carrying a hint of victory as he was on death's door. "Will you ever be able to say the same?"
The executioner brought the axe up, and on the captain's command swung it down. There was a spray of blood as the soldier's head rolled. Skara could only grimace.
"Fearless in death," Ralof muttered. "As he was in life, may your soul live forever in the halls of Sovngarde."
As Skara was about to reply, there was a roar that seemed to rattle his eardrums. He looked around, expecting a giant, wild animal nearby.
There was nothing.
"What was that, General Tullius?" the captain asked loudly, turning her attention towards the higher ranking officer beside her.
"Nothing." he said dismissively, "Carry on!"
"Next prisoner!" the captain said, turning her attention towards Skara. Her eyes seemed a bit misty.
Skara stepped forward. He debated running but knew he'd never make it. It was his time, even if it was early compared to the lives of others.
He knelt down, putting his head over the block. He looked Ralof in the eyes, and the Nord nodded back.
His final sign of respect.
Skara wondered if you got your memories back when you died. Would he be judged on who he used to be, or who he was now?
It didn't matter now, he thought.
He closed his eyes after that and hoped it would be swift.
As Skara heard the axe lift, he imagined Sovengard. He imagined a beautiful place, ripe with game and plants that gave the sweetest fruits. He imagined a place where one could enjoy themselves, talking to their friends and family for eternity. He imagined it would feel like home.
Yes, it would be go-
"What in oblivion is that?" General Tullius cried out.
Skara's eyes shot open, instinct flooding through him as while his mind had accepted his death, his body and soul had not. As he pulled his head back, he heard the sound of the executioner's ax pierce the wood where his head was.
It's not my time. Not yet, at least.
He looked up and saw something that his mind screamed was an impossibility.
A giant beast, pure black scales running the length of its body. It was ginormous, wings seemed to expand as far his eyes could see and even further then. It had crimson eyes that were filled with a hunger that couldn't be sated.
It was perched on the top of the watchtower, it's weight almost single-handedly destroyed the tower. Skara could see cracks running along the old stone, as this thing roared with enough fury to topple mountains.
"Get up!" the captain yelled, grabbing Markus by the arm and yanking him up. General Tullius and the other soldiers were too distracted by the beast to notice.
Skara got up, and while he was confused, the will to live was a bit stronger than his confusion as he started running with the captain.
They ducked behind a fallen piece of stone, big enough to hide many more than them. She peaked her head over the stone, quickly ducking back down as pure, white unbearably hot fire shot where her head was.
"Why are you helping me?" Skara asked, not daring to peak his head over and look at the carnage.
"We don't have time to talk," she said, motioning towards an entrance. "That leads into the keep. It connects to a cave that leads out of here."
Skara nodded. He was a bit annoyed at how his question had been brushed off, but he couldn't blame her.
"Ok," Skara said, finally summoning up enough courage to look. He could see the entrance, and the dragon seemed to have its attention on the attacking soldiers. They could do this.
"Run on three," he said.
"One," he said.
"Two," she said.
"Three!" they both yelled, diving out from behind the cover and sprinting towards the entrance.
Skara sprinted for all he was worth, the roar of his rapidly beating heart almost seeming to drown out the slaughter. They were so close, but there was one problem.
He made the mistake of looking back.
The beast's crimson eyes seemed to hone in on him out of everyone, it's draconic eyes narrowing as it saw him try to escape his destruction. Skara swore as he looked ahead of him and carried on running like a mad man.
Skara grunted as something hit in on his side, as he tumbled into the keep. He felt a fiery hot sensation above him, almost roasting him from the mere proximity.
"What…" he trailed off, looking around as his vision tried righting itself.
"Eyes on the goal, Skara." the woman scolded him, offering him a hand as she stood up. He grabbed it, still unable to discern why she helped him.
"We've got some time to talk," he said while barring the door behind them.
"We do," she said, her voice carrying an air of reluctance.
"Why are you helping me?" Skara asked.
"You sent me to be executed!" he continued, right in her face as he looked down at her.
"You sentenced me to death!" he yelled out, knuckles white from how hard he was clenching his fists.
"I did," she said, looking up at him, her expression completely calm.
A tense moment passed as Skara stood there, unsure of what to do. The adrenaline seemed to settle as he could feel his heart settle.
"You weren't wearing any storm cloak armor when you were found," she said. "At least that's what I was told. "
"I don't remember," Skara admits, looking down as the admission left his mouth.
He didn't know who he was.
"Do you have any idea how old you are?" she asked.
A second passed before he replied, his mind looking for something that just wasn't there. He let out a frustrated sigh, looking her in the eye's once again.
"No," he said, a frown appearing on his face.
"You're big," she said, motioning towards the lean mass he was carrying and his apparently above average height. "But you look like you haven't even reached your twentieth birthday."
"I am a man!" he snapped instantly, offended by the mere idea that he was a boy.
"No!" she said, voice carrying much more weight.
There was a heavy pause before she continued, a finger poking into his chest after each point.
"You're not! You're meant to be at home, with people who love you. You barely looked past your nineteenth birthday, and you were about to be executed." she finished, an almost maternal anger entering her eyes. "Not to mention, you had an opportunity to live, but you chose to call Talos a god! Are you an idiot? Why would you die for a cause that you know nothing about?"
Skara almost flinched at her tone and had to bite down on his tongue. What was he going to say? That he barely remembered someone saying something to him, and that he'd die for it?
"You don't even know," she said, reading the emotions off his face like a book.
Was he that easy to read?
He didn't say anything in reply, choosing to glare at her.
"Idiot," she said while walking towards a nearby gate. "Let's go, we might be able to get you out of here without anyone noticing. You can then make your way to Riverwood or Whiterun."
"Riverwood?" he asked, the pronunciation sounding familiar.
"A small village near here," she said, taking a key out.
She slotted it into the gate, gave it a twist and there was a click as the lock opened. She held up her hand, motioning for him to stop as she looked around. There didn't seem to be anyone around.
"What's your name?" Skara finally asked.
Skara sighed when he didn't hear a reply as they descended lower. She saved his life, the least he could do was actually use her name. If she actually gave it to him.
"Aurelia," she said after a few moments of walking.
Skara found himself frowning at the name. He couldn't remember much, but that didn't sound like it was distinctively Imperial.
"I was named after a family friend," Aurelia said after a few moments. "An Altmer saved my father a few years before I was born."
"Do you still have a family? Or a spouse?" Skara asked, hoping to learn a bit more about this woman.
"Why?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Are you interested?"
Skara could feel heat build-up in his neck and cheeks.
"Of course no-
He was cut off by her laughter. It was a fairly pleasant sound, and Skara didn't seem to mind it much, even if he was the butt of the joke.
"I'm just messing with you, kid," Aurelia said, a smile still on her lips. "Maybe if I was a decade or two younger. Or if I didn't have a husband to go home to."
"Haha," Skara replied, his blush seeming to lower to reasonable levels. He was about to continue before she held a hand up, stopping him in his tracks.
Skara could hear something. It seemed she could too.
"Here," Aurelia said, drawing her sword and handing it to Skara. "I trust you won't use this on me when I turn around?"
Skara scowled immediately, the idea of attacking someone when they weren't looking leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
"Of course not!" he said.
As Skara took the sword, something in his mind seemed to click. Muscle memory resurfaced as he gripped the handle, instinctively entering a fighting stance. It just felt right.
"You've trained with a sword?" she asked, noting his stance. His foot work seemed too polished for someone who hadn't used a sword before.
"I don't know…" Skara admitted, sounding and feeling very frustrated. Who had he been? Was he a soldier? A bandit? Did he have a family?
"Eyes forward," Aurelia said, lightly tapping her knuckles against his head. "We're not out of here yet, even if that dragon can't get us."
He nodded, following her lead as they both crouched and moved forward silently. Well, she did, Skara was pretty sure that anyone with a functioning set of ears could hear him. Stealth was not one of his strong suits.
"Are you trying to get us caught?" Aurelia asked, giving him an incredulous look after he had accidentally scrapped his sword against the stone floor. Again.
"No!" Skara said quickly, before realizing he hadn't lowered his voice. There was a shout of alarm further down the passage. Damn.
There was a rush of footsteps, and after a few moments, Skara found that their way forward was blocked by five men. Five armored men with weapons.
"Kinsman!" Ralof said a happy smile on his face. It quickly turned into a sneer when his eyes landed on the imperial next to Skara.
"Skara," he said after a few moments. "Why are you with this Imperial captain?" he asked, confusion evident in his blue eyes.
"We're just trying to get through," Aurelia said, her voice stable as she spoke to the stormcloaks. "There's no need for further bloodshed," she carried on, her voice maintaining a diplomatic tone.
Skara could feel the sweat running down the back of his neck. This could go bad very fast.
"Enough of this," one of the other stormcloaks said. A big man with brown hair and arms as thick as tree trunks. He stalked towards Aurelia, drawing his greataxe and quickly swinging.
There was a scream drowned out by blood.