Chapter 6 - The Road to Her Fears

Owww...Rosanna thought painfully. Slowly, she opened her eyes and closed them again. She was in shade, but her blinding headache prevented her from immediately acting.

Once she could see, Rosanna looked around. She was in a cart, pulled by horseback,

There was no Alessi, and no Aren, and no Crystal. It ripped a hole into her heart, reminding Rosanna of her loss.

When she took another look, Rosanna saw that there was 3 men sitting in misery with her. The man that stood out the most to her, though, was the large, bulked and muscled man in the corner, with his mouth gagged. He was staring at Rosanna with a solid gaze through the corner of his eye.

"Hey, you. Finally awake." Rosanna was jerked out of her trance. The man that spoke to her had long, light blonde hair and clear crystal eyes. He had a worried, saddened look on his face.

"Who are you?" Rosanna's eye widened. "And where am I? Where is Aren, and Crystal, and my dogs?"

"Never mind that. They're gone." The man said gruffly. "I'm Ralof."

"A Stormcloak, right?" Rosanna ventured. Crystal had always kept them up to date on current events.

"Yes. You were trying to cross the border, right?" She nodded, looking down to avoid tears. "Walked right intonthr Imperial ambush. Same as us, and that thief." He jerked his blonde head towards the dark haired young man.

Everyone had binds on their wrists, they're hands were useless on their laps.

Rosanna bit her lip, and glanced to the thief, Lokir, as she had learned. He looked like he was about to cry.

She'd always been soft-hearted.

Carefully, Rosanna leaned over, and in a smooth move, place both hands onto his shouldet, in a comforting gesture, and gave him a little smile.

"Damn you Stormcloaks." Lokir suddenly burst, with heated anger in his voice. Surprised, Rosanna leaned back, watching the scene unfold neatly before her, "Skyrim was fine until you came alpng. Empire nice and lazy."

She assumed he had stolen a horse. Wasn't a great crime, but guards would still have given a chase. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen the horse and be halfway to Daggerfell." Alessi had once talked about Daggetfell. Memories were coming back.

Lokir looked sharply towards Rosanna. "You there. You and I, we shouldn't be here. It's the Stormcloaks they want." His eyes were dark and intent, trained onto Rosanna.

She blinked. Stormcloaks. Ulfric's name. Wait...she wasn't a Stormcloak. Lokir and Rosanna didn't have high enough bounties (she had none) to get arrested...which meant...yeah. They were being illegaly incarcerated. Great.

Where had that sarcasm come from?

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." Ralof said grimly. Rosanna sighed. Guess it was her fate. Thank you, Hircine. Maybe she'd switch to Arkay.

"Shut up, back there!" A soldier barked from the front. Rosanna rolled her eyes, and slumped in defeat.

Lokir looked over to Ulfric. "And what's wrong with him, eh?" Ulfric was gagged, and for the first time since she woke up, he broke his intense gaze and glanced at Lokir.

"Watch your tongue!" Ralof barked. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King." Ralof had a certain, loyal pride to his voice, and he straightened in his seat.

Rosanna knew of him. Even a hunter hears of Ulfric's power and influence. There was a good reason for his gagging. She had heard that Ulfric had shouted High King Torygg to death. It's what triggered this damned civil war.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" Lokir said incredously. "You're the leader of the rebellion." His voice was awed, and Rosanna couldn't help but smile a little. Da had once taken her to Windhelm, to teach the 'heathens' about Akatosh. Apparently, Rosanna had always been a heathen to him. Always will be. Which was one of the reasons she ran away, and lived as a hunter until now.

"But if they captured you..." Lokir began to think. "Oh gods...where are they taking us?" Execution. Rosanna had already figured it out. Ulfric's blood had a huge value to the Imperials.

The catch? It was illegal execution for Lokir and Rosanna.

"I don't know where we're going." Ralof lamented. "But Sovngarde awaits." Sovngarde. The honored Nord dead went there in the afterlife.

"No. This can't be happening." Lokir cried, his eyes widening with realized horror. Truthfully, Rosanna was waiting to wake up back in her bedroll, with Aren still watching the sunrise, and Crystal alivr, and her dog present. Tears stung her eyes.

There was a long puse.

"What village are you from, horse thief?" Ralof suddenly asked, breaking the depressing silence.

"...Why do you care?" Lokir asked sullenly, looking up from his lap.

"...A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

"Rorikstead. I'm...I'm from Rorikstead." Lokir finally said. The whole conversation was depressing. Rosanna's homeland was everywhere, it seemed. No end of traveling in sight.

Rosanna had been borned in Skyrim, raised there until she was six years of age. Then, brought into the Summeset Isles, and then Hammerfell, to the Black Marshes, and finally to Morrowind. Where her old family last resided. They could be anywhere, now.

"General Tullius! The headsman is waiting." An Imperial guard called. A cold shiver ran down Rosanna's spine.

"Good. Let's get this over with." Tullius said. Rosanna liked hearing his voice. It seemed...familiar.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh, Divines, please help me!" Lokir begged, his face to the blue.

Strange...Rosanna never regretted leavin her brothers and sisters until now. When all chances of a last sighting were gone.

"Look at him. General Tullius." Ralof spat, disgust evident in his voice. "The Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him." Rosanna had never really had a problem with the Thalmor, other than random agents searching their camp for Talos worshipping objects.

"Damned elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

They always did, it seemed. At the moment, Clara was quite annoyed with Skyrim. She had once read about it, in a scroll.

In order to end the Great War, Skyrim signed a contract, called the White-Gold Concordat. But, in order to have it bring peace, the Thalmor had their demands. No more worship of Talos, and Skyrim does their bidding, it seemed from Rosanna's point of view.

Rosanna would have joined the Stormcloaks, if she had gotten the choice. If people spoke out, or doubted thr Thalmor's ways, they were dragged off in the middle of the night.

Another, longer, pause.

"This is it. Helgen." The name reminded Rosanna of Aren. A grim sarcasm settled in her chest. She was finally here, and it looked like she was the ony one to survive the ambush.

"I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilad still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in." Grim silence. Ralof kept talking, filling in the gaps

"Funny. When I was a lad, Imperial walls used to make me feel so safe."

Funny.

A boy named Haming was talking. It was quiet, so Rosanna could listen. Haming had once given her a bunch of flowers, as a gift for being nice.

"Who are they, Daddy? Where are they going?"

"You need to go inside, little cub." A nickname for Tomlinsong that Da once called him.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers." Haming complained. He had to go inside. He didn't deserve this. He had once sold Crysal, Alessi, and Rosanna sweet rolls. Best 3 Septims she had ever speny. The memory of his uplifted face was still fresh.

"Inside the house. Now." Torolf said, a little more urgently. Rosanna bowed her head, praying that Haming would have a good life.

Crystal, I'm coming