This is going to be my greatest and most epic story ever (its all preplanned and there are two authors to this, me and my boyfriend). It'll keep somewhat true to the story of Skyrim, however we are making a few changes. And for future reference, I am not changing the Prophesy of the Dragonborn. If you think I am, keep reading, because all will be explained before the end.
~*~Prologue~*~
The wind was biting cold to those who were in the topless caravans as they rolled along the rocky dirt path surrounded by pine trees. Most of the prisoners wore little, with exception to two males, one with wrapping around his mouth, preventing any speaking of any kind, and the other appeared to be a soldier. While the soldier was speaking to another nord who came to be known as a horse thief, the male sitting opposite of the soldier, also a Nord, was sitting quietly, his hands bound in front of him. He watched the fast approaching Helgen keep, wondering why he was in this caravan. Of course, he understood why most of the other occupants were taken aboard. This male, Turro, had been a soldier in the Imperial Legion and had been stationed elsewhere in Tamriel, deep in Cyradiil. He served as long as he needed and left. Turro went to hunting and exploration, which brought the adventurer to the borders of Skyrim, which was under the evident threat of civil war. But how could he have known this when he had never been to Skyrim ever before? He had only found out yesterday after this soldier was brought aboard with a Jarl who was bound to prevent him from speaking. They were allowed to speak, but quietly of course.
Along the way one other carriage joined with more people. On the second day, today, they forced a horse thief aboard and an odd High Elf. The horse thief, who like most of the prisoners, was a nord, and looked extremely dirty, and perhaps a tad crazed. The high elf was very quiet, and ignored all inquiries made towards her. She was odd in the fact she had creepy red, pupiless eyes. At least Turro was more polite and answered questions, but of course said no more than necessary.
"Be quiet back there!" snapped on of the guards towards the soldier and the horse thief.
The horse thief shook his head and ignored the imperial. "What's his problem?" he asked the soldier, pointing at the Jarl.
"Wha- Watch your tongue, horse thief!" the soldier said, looking darkly at the other man. "That's Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, the TRUE high king, you are speaking to!"
"You mean the Jarl of Windhelm? The one that… Shouted the high king to death?"
"The one and the same."
Turro looked back at the man who was bound at the mouth, this man who shouted someone to death. His thoughts went to how impossible that was, and perhaps the man was some kind of mage.
But even mages, at least the ones he knew, used their hands, scrolls, even staffs, but not their voices.
Maybe Skyrim mages were different in some way?
His thoughts were interrupted by one of the Helgen gatekeepers yelling towards someone behind the gate.
"General Tullius, sir, the headsman is waiting!"
"Good, let's get this over with," spoke the General in response as the gates opened for the caravan.
Headsmen? Wait, we are getting executed? Turro thought hard about what happened. Almost as soon as he crossed the border he came across a group of fighting men. All of them aside from one Imperialist survived, and he took Turro under arrest. The male's brow pulled into an angry frown. So he was going to get his head lobbed off for a mistake?
The caravan pulled in through the gates, the clopping of the horses becoming more and more evident. Each step brought him to a very untimely death.
"There is General Tullius himself," sneered the soldier. "And with the Thalmor no less! I bet they had something to do with this."
Turro glanced at the man and woman on horseback, both in heavy armor, surrounded by the tall and gangly sharp faced elves. He noticed a lack of surprise, even recognision from the imprisoned elven female's face.
The caravans stopped near a wall. Nearby stood a block, and an executioner. Behind them loomed a stone tower, which almost seemed to mock them. Civilians went inside, ushering children quickly to go, away from this horror which was about to start in front of their very faces.
"Wait! Why are we stopping?" demanded the horse thief, looking more crazed than ever.
"Because it's the end of the line, that's why," the soldier responded when the Imperials ignored him.
They all exited the carriages hesitantly, all thinking of what was to come.
"Go to the block when we call your name!" snarled a woman in bright, shiny armor. Turro noted that there wasn't a single blemish on her armor, indicating either she never saw any fighting herself, or she put on a brand new suit of armor just for the occasion. Both of which pointed to the same conclusion.
"Damn Imperials and their 'Lists'," the soldier scoffed.
Turro faced his fate silently, while the horse thief got jumpier than ever.
Jarl Ulfric was called first out of that carriage, followed by the soldier, Rolaf of Windhelm. When the horse thief's name was called, he panicked.
"NO! I don't belong with these traitors!" he screamed frantically.
"Get back in line!" The Bi-… I mean Imperial Officer shouted.
"You cant kill me!" he sang, evidently having lost all sanity at that point.
"Archers!" she commanded simply. Two archers bent their bows and sent two arrows into the thief's back. He didn't even make it half way to the gate. "Anyone else going to run?"
The rest of the caravan stayed silent, so they resumed their name calling. Next came the High Elf. Kathalis Windstriker. Apparently she was there for a murdering a nord. She joined the group around the block, still acting silent. Turro looked at the Thalmor watching, and they did not seem happy or anything. It appeared they were confused over the elf there as much as he was. Turro shook his head. It was hard to tell with elves sometimes. They all acted arrogant to him.
"Wait… Who are you?" the Imperial looked at his lists then back up at Turro. "He's not on our lists... Anywhere?" He flipped through the pages, scanning through them heavily.
"It's Turro Hawkeye," he offered, shrugging slightly. The imperial looked down at his lists once again, then back at the other.
"He isn't on the lists," he stated, showing the lists to the officer. She glanced at it, and faster than anyone could comprehend a word she waved it away.
"He goes to the block."
"But- " the imperial protested.
"I said he goes to the block!" she cut across him, glaring at her lessor with a do-not-dare-question-my-authority look.
The imperial sighed and waved Turro on to the block. The hunter trudged slowly towards the awaiting mass of people, feeling as though he got the bad end of the deal. What bad luck he had.
The man named General Tullius had approached Ulfric Stormcloak, and was in the process of sneering at him.
"Death to the Stormcloaks!" shouted somebody, and then everyone started yelling. It ended abruptly when the officer walked over.
She looked around then looked at the woman nearby in priestess of Arkay robes. "Give them their last rites."
The priestess raised her hands to the group and began to bless the crowd to prepare them for the end of their mortal existence. A man interrupted her.
"by Talos, Shut-up so we can get this over with!"
"Very well." The priestess looked slightly peeved at being interrupted, but nonetheless walked off to watch.
The man who interrupted was the first to go. He walked to the block unhesitantly, even proudly.
Turro was sure he heard a sound of some sort at that point, just as the officer was forcing the man to his knees. But no one else was reacting more than just looking around. The prisoned high elf had the more severe reaction. She looked in the direction he guessed it came from. Her elven ears had more accurate hearing. Her alarmed look made him feel a bit uneasy.
With as far away as whatever that was, it must be huge. But after the sound of the axe splitting the male's head from his body, Turro's attention was brought to the block.
"Next, him!" The officer pointed a finger at Turro. There that sound was again! This time it was more clearly a roar of some kind. But Turro couldn't remember what animal he's encountered that sounded like that. Inwardly he felt very uneasy, in fact he could sense it was something dangerous, and large. Very large.
The crowd heard that and they murmured to themselves.
"I said next the Nord!" The officer snapped, letting no strange sound prevent her from impressing Tullius, who seemed more concerned with the sound, anyway.
Turro walked to the block, every step was numb, not with fear, but anticipation. But not of the axe. Even when he was bent over the block and the executioner was raising his axe, Turro was not afraid of the axe. Internally he knew somehow he wasn't going to just die. He kept his eyes to the sky where the high elf had been watching cautiously. Ice cold fear filled his veins when he saw it.
What he saw, he had only seen in drawings and in children's stories, and warrior tales of old.
The thing landed on the looming tower close to them roaring, causing the ground around to shake.
"Sentries! What do you see?" the officer demanded as she turned around.
Out of all the following shouts, one stood out. As the thing looked around with its piercing pupiless red eyes, its black plated and scaled body was tremendously large, its head had four horns, the primary ones longer and curved.
"Dragon!"
Turro watched from the block, his eyes widened, one dark blue, the other blank white, a scar running through it down his cheek with two more scars alongside it.
The dragon did not breath a firey death upon them all. Instead it sort of barked at them, which sent the people it aimed it at flying backwards, a thunderclap masking what Turro thought had been words of some kind.
The dragon looked at the screaming mass, clearly enjoying the carnage it had began. It barked toward Turro, sending him to the ground away from the block.
The Stormcloak soldier from before yelled at Turro to come to his senses. Turro focused on the voice, forcing the threat of blacking out away. He looked up at the blurry image of the man before him, urging him on. Turro stood up, and focused on the doorway of another tower. He rushed in, his vision clearing up swiftly, the threat of blackness going away.