It was dark. Black. I looked around; everywhere there was a palpable darkness. But it all felt empty. The whole of my surroundings was empty, as if I were in a large room or cavern. The ground beneath my feet was firm and smooth, as if marble had been used to tile the room.
Where was I?
Tentatively, I began to walk forward, unsure of the direction I was going. The more I walked, the more I began to feel a tug, pulling me towards a point in front of me. Confidence began to flow through me. My steps gained purpose.
A small spot of light shined in front of me. Gradually it became larger, bathing my surroundings in a white light, becoming grey where it meshed with the darkness. It was blinding at first, dimming only when I was close enough to see the source. The source of the light was a large, golden dragon. It was gracefully muscular with large magnificent wings whose span was easily the length of the dragon plus a few more feet.
I was so mesmerized. Was this what one of the Tevinter gods would have looked like, before the darkspawn taint overtook it?
I stopped. The dragon moved, its nose ending up only a few feet from my face. Golden eyes fixed upon me; a rumble began in its throat. My senses turned on immediately as my hand shot to grab my-
I began to panic. Where are my swords? I turned my head, seeing nothing behind me. Then I saw my hand. My gloves were gone; I wasn't wearing armor. I wasn't wearing anything at all. My heart began to hammer in my chest as the dragon opened its maw, a red glow in its throat. I tried to back away, to hide, to do anything that might get me away from that dragon.
But it was no use. My legs suddenly felt like lead, and my feet were glued to the ground. All I could do was stare into its open maw as bright orange flames shot out at me. Fire, burning and blinding, engulfed me, sending spikes of pain throughout my body. The heat began to move through my veins, as agonizing as if lava were running through them instead of blood. I screamed. The fire in my blood then focused, centering right where my heart was.
My vision began to go white, fire and pain blinding me, the edges of my vision tinged with black. I could hear my own heartbeat: frantic and faint. The pain was beyond tolerance; I could feel myself slipping. My vision was now growing darker, unconsciousness tugging me deeper. I fell into its embrace, the pain becoming a soft whisper as I went under.
I felt a slight rocking sensation. I slowly began opening my eyes, unsure of my new surroundings. Spikes of pain were driving themselves inside my head, slowly ebbing away as my vision cleared from fuzzy black to fuzzy shades of greens and browns. I closed and reopened my eyes, my vision coming back clearer now. It was daylight: the sky was a clear blue dotted with cloudy wisps. I focused ahead and saw a man driving a horse pulling a cart. So that's what's causing the rocking sensation. Then it occurred to me, Where are we going?
"Hey, you! You're finally awake."
I whipped my head to face this new speaker. It was a man with shoulder length blonde hair and light blue-grey eyes. He wore a chain mail tunic with a blue sash. His face had the slightest bit of blonde stubble. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."
As if on cue, a dark haired man spoke. "Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."
Skyrim? Hammerfell? What kind of place is this? I hope this is a joke and I'm actually dead. But no one was laughing, and I wasn't laughing. Of course I wasn't laughing. What's going on?
The thief turned toward me. "You there. You and me—we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."
The soldier driving the cart looked annoyed and shouted back, "Shut up back there!" But that barely registered. Binds? I tried to move my wrists, move them and prove to myself I wasn't bound. Instead I felt rope, rough and tight against my skin. Oh, no.
"And what's wrong with him, huh?" the thief asked, looking at the man sitting beside me. He had long, windswept blonde hair and wore a fur-lined coat, dirtied from travel. He had a gag around his mouth. He looked familiar. Too familiar.
The Stormcloak, if that's what he was, looked angry from the remark. He snapped back, "Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."
"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?" The thief was nearly panicking.
The Stormcloak's only reply was, "I don't know where they're taking us, but Sovengarde awaits."
The thief looked even more panicked. "No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening."
There was a tense, reflective silence which I filled with confused comprehension. What was a jarl? It sounded like earl, somewhat. And High King? What about just king? What is the use of a high king? Then there was the mention of this Sovengarde. I hope that's not their afterlife. I might have cheated death once and I don't want to look it in the face again.
"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" the Stormcloak asked.
"Why do you care?"
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," he replied.
The thief was uncertain at first. "Rorikstead. I'm… I'm from Rorikstead."
A voice broke out. "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"
Headsman? Andraste, please no.
"Good. Let's get this over with," answered a man who must have been General Tullius.
Please no.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me," the thief pleaded quietly.
We began to enter a town, passing under a wooden gate and a man and a few elves on horseback.
"General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this," the Stormcloak scoffed. Recognition later dawned on his face. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in." He paused. "Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."
A child's voice came in from behind. "Who are they daddy? Where are they going?
His father responded back, "You need to go inside, little cub."
"Why? I want to watch the soldiers."
"Inside the house. Now."
"Yes, papa."
"Whoa," the Imperial soldier said as he slowed the horses down.
"Get these prisoners out the carts. Move it!" a new, female voice said. I leaned back and saw a woman dressed in heavy armor, her helmet glinting in the sun.
"Why are we stopping?" The thief's face reflected the panic I was feeling deep down. I was prepared to face the end before, when my sacrifice would have stopped the destruction of the world, but this left me feeling hollow, with nothing but dread and terror filling me up.
The Stormcloak only looked at him. "Why do you think?" he said gravely. "End of the line."
Deep, deep dread.
Damn.
The cart finally stopped. The Stormcloak turned to look at me. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."
"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" the thief pleaded to no one in particular. Something told me the Imperials wouldn't care anyway.
"Face your death with some courage, thief," the Stormcloak replied as we unloaded from the cart. The footwraps around my feet were rough and awkward to walk in, yet the ground was a refreshing, almost welcoming cool, as if it wanted me to lay down and embrace it. I shuddered, unsettled.
The thief wasn't giving up his plight. "You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!"
"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time," a woman in heavy steel armor ordered. The four of us from the cart had stopped in front of her and another Imperial holding a piece of charcoal and a wooden board. The woman's entire demeanor radiated authority.
"Empire loves their damn lists," sighed the Stormcloak.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" the Stormcloak called out as Ulfric walked to the block.
"Ralof of Riverwood." The Stormcloak followed his leader to his place.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
"No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" Lokir bolted down the road in a frenzied attempt to escape.
"Halt!" cried the woman.
Lokir sprinted even faster. "You're not going to kill me!"
"Archers!" At the command, arrows rained down upon Lokir, killing him. One less for the block. I hoped that he didn't die unnecessarily.
"Anyone else feel like running?" the Imperial woman challenged.
There was a short, uncomfortable silence until the Imperial holding the list looked at me and said, "Wait. You there," he looked genuinely confused. "Step forward."
I stepped forward, unsteady and panicky. "Who are you?" he finally asked.
My mouth was dry and my tongue felt like cotton. I barely managed to say anything. "L-Lora Cousland," I replied shakily, my tongue still like cotton. Then I added quickly, "From Highever." Please recognized the name. Please.
My gut dropped. Neither Highever nor my name registered on his face. "You from Daggerfall, Breton?" He asked uncertainly. "Fleeing from some court intrigue?" He turned to the officer. "Captain. What should we do? She's not on the list."
"Forget the list. She goes to the block," replied the captain.
"By your orders, Captain." He turned to look at me, his face sympathetic, "I'm sorry, we'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock. Follow the Captain, prisoner."
I was crestfallen. I was dumbed by the disbelief that I was walking to an involuntary death. What could I have possibly done to warrant death as a criminal? Dumbfounded and numb, I followed the captain to my place by the block. Before me was a headsman, a woman in yellow-orange robes, and a man wearing fancy armor. General Tullius, I think Ralof said. He stepped forward, stopping right in front of Ulfric Stormcloak, and declared, "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." Ulfric grunted what sounded like a series of curses. Tullius was unfased. "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."
A howl sounded in the distance.
"What was that?" the Imperial who had the list asked.
"It's nothing. Carry on," Tullius assured.
The captain answered promptly, "Yes, General Tullius." She turned to a woman in orange and yellow robes. "Give them their last rights."
The woman nodded and began, "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—"
"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with."
A dark haired Stormcloak stepped forward and began walking toward the block as the priestess, as I figured, said, "As you wish."
"Come on, I haven't got all morning," he snapped. The captain took her foot, planted it on his back, and shoved him down to the block. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"
The execution was swift, his head dropping into the basket and the block staining with his blood. I was revolted. A Stormcloak cursed out the Imperials, while the villagers called for our death. Ralof, who was off to my right, solemnly said, "As fearless in death, as he was in life."
"Next, the Breton," ordered the captain. I froze. All brain function ceased. I was going to die, my head dropping into a basket with that other man's head and blood spilling out of the fresh stump of my neck. Why couldn't I have been pseudo-fried by that archdemon's soul?
The unearthly roar sounded off again, this time closer. "There it is again," Hadvar breathed. "Did you hear that?"
"I said, next prisoner!" snapped the captain, unfazed.
Hadvar locked his gaze on me. "To the block prisoner. Nice and easy."
Slowly, I walked to the block, feeling like an undead from the stories my father would tell to Fergus and me. My throat burned and my eyes threatened tears, but I held them back. I held them back and put the last bits of dignity and honor I had left into my stride. I stopped once the block was immediately to my right and pivoted. A foot found its way to my back and shoved me down onto my knees. I was then shoved down onto the block, my face turned toward the headsman.
Black wings suddenly appeared over the horizon. Stunned, Tullius exclaimed, "What in Oblivion is that?"
"Sentries! What do you see?" the captain called as a massive black dragon appeared over the tower.
"It's in the clouds!" cried an Imperial soldier.
The dragon landed at the top of the tower, quaking the earth with its landing. The headsman, ready to bring his axe down on my head, fell over. "Dragon!" someone shouted. The dragon opened its maw, and the sound that came out of it was like a thunder clap: a thunder clap that decided it needed to be right inside my ear. The sky became overcast, purplish hues adorning the clouds.
"Don't just stand there! Kill that thing!" Tullius shouted.
Meteors begin falling from the sky. The dragon shouted another thunder clap. An unseen force pummeled into me, sending me collapsing to the ground. My vision and hearing blurred. Somewhere off into the distance, General Tullius was calling for guards as the dragon shouted again. This time, I swore I could hear actual syllables coming from the dragon, hearing, "Ro Dah!" erupt from the dragon's mouth.
Everything was happening so fast, and my vision was so blurred, I barely heard someone shout at me, "Hey, you. Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" My vision was just starting to clear, and I spotted Ralof not too far off to my right. "This way!" he called.
I stumbled to my feet, my vision clear now, and my adrenaline reaching its peak. I ran after Ralof, taking shelter in a guard tower not too far away from the block. "In here!" he yelled back.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me over the debris-stricken square. My bound hands made it nearly impossible for me to stay upright, but I somehow managed to make it to the tower without falling down. The tower was still intact surprisingly, and many of the Stormcloak prisoners were huddled, injured or fine, in the little bit of shelter offered by the tower's first floor. Ralof was off to my left, as well as Ulfric Stormcloak.
"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof sounded on the verge of panic.
"Legends don't burn down villages," was Ulfric's only reply. His voice was deep and commanding and rattled my bones through the sheer power that radiated from it. The tower shook as meteors crashed around the tower. "We need to move. Now!" Ulfric cried.
"Up through the tower, let's go!" Ralof said to me. He pointed and said, "This way, friend. Move!" I turned and, seeing the stairs to my left, started up them with Ralof on my tail. I heard Ulfric shout behind me, "Come on! Before the dragon brings down the whole tower!"
We climbed until we came to a landing with a Stormcloak franticly trying to move the rocks blocking the rest of the stairs. "We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way," he said without looking back. I was just about to take a step onto the landing when the wall came crashing in and crushed the Stormcloak clearing away the rock. Peaking its head inside the hole was the black dragon that stalled my execution. It opened its maw and fire rushed out, syllables—no, words is what they felt like—clearly defined, crying, "Yol… Toor Shul!" The flames were blisteringly hot, scorching and charring everything. I had to step back to avoid being cooked alive. If that Stormcloak wasn't dead before, he is now.
When the fire subsided and the dragon left, Ralof ran up. "See the inn on the other side?" He looked at me. "Jump through the roof and keep going!"
I did as he said all the way up to jumping through the roof. I looked back and saw him making his way back towards the stairs. Isn't he coming with? He noticed my hesitation and yelled to me, "Go! We'll follow when we can!" That's when I jumped into the inn.
My landing was rough, the impact jarring my legs and sending pain all the way up to my knees. I worked my way back up to my feet and moved to the other end of the inn. Bottles of alcohol, beds, and dressers lay littered everywhere. At the left corner of the floor, a large, gaping hole appeared, showing me the bottom floor. As quickly and as carefully as I could, I eased myself into a sitting position and dropped down onto the ground, running out the exit.
I heard a voice from the group of Imperials and villagers in front of me that I recognized as the Imperial who called off my wagon's names. "Don't look up. Just focus on me. You can do it!" he called to a boy, standing in the middle of what was left of the road. "Hamming, you need to get over here. Now!" he shouted at the boy. Hamming began running back to us as the dragon landed, shaking the ground. "That a boy. You're doing great."
Then the dragon began to breathe fire at us. "Gods… Everyone get back!" shouted the Imperial. Like the others, I took cover behind an already battle-torn building. The torrent of fire cut off, and the dragon leaped back into the air. The Imperial then saw me, a look of irony crossing his face. "Still alive, prisoner?" he inquired. "Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." He turned to a man in iron armor and said, "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."
"Gods guide you, Hadvar."
Hadvar took off around the house and past burning rubble all the way to a wall about six feet from a building with me hot on his heels. If my hands weren't tied I could have run faster, but whatever gods were up there in this world must have been having fun with me. Once we reached the alley between the wall and the collapsed building the dragon circled over top. "Stay close to the wall!" shouted Hadvar as the dragon landed on top of the wall. We crouched down; the dragon blew fire over top of us. "Quickly, follow me!" he said when the dragon left.
We got up and started moving through a home that was burning down. There were more Imperials in the clearing: bowmen shooting arrows, swordsmen waiting for the dragon to land and… I stopped dead. People were shooting fireballs up at the dragon. There were mages. And they were fighting with the others. I was so engrossed by this that I barely registered Hadvar leaving when Tullius began shouting at me, "What, do you want to be this thing's next meal? Into the Keep already!"
I ran for the keep, my mind still on the mages. If mages were actively participating in the military… Maker, I really need to think about this later. There's a dragon burning a village and I'm thinking about mages. Once I caught up to Hadvar, Ralof appeared from the other archway.
"Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!" Hadvar spat.
"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time." Ralof replied.
"Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde."
"You!" It was Ralof. "Come on, into the keep"
"With me prisoner. Let's go" Hadvar called.
Damn it. I followed Hadvar.
