Disclaimer: Look at Prologue.
First story so I accept all professional and constructive criticism. Flames will be used to heat up my dorm room.
A/N: Before we begin I wanted to make note that yes I have omitted the race of the protagonist. I want to state that the matter of Gaellon's race is complicated in that he is not of a single race. I will elaborate later in another chapter. Right now, please know that he will be considered a Nord until said chapter arrives.
RANT TIME! Also please note that while the first two chapters were short, they were short for a valid reason. I had been hired by the state I live in and get three days of the week off and little time after work to write. I work 10 hour shifts daily for four days and 3 hour college classes afterward so my days are long and tiring, which makes me wishing for bed more than ever. As soon as I get used to the schedule, updates to the story will become more frequent. Until that time comes, please show some patience as this writer needs money to live as well. RANT TIME OVER!
Immortal Trinity
Chapter 2
Memory…
A boy of ten years stands in a room, his adolescent mind filled with awe and confusion over what he sees...
The subconscious recollection of past event unique to a specific individual.
For what is seen is three thrones made of materials that emperors and kings would commit genocide for even the smallest of sliver...
That's what I was taught when I had asked the high priestess of the temple of Azura at Mournhold when I was of twelve years of age.
Each throne majestic and radiant in their entirety, also had their unique differences…
It's considered rare for anyone other than telepaths to remember memories from their childhood years.
Said difference being the sun, star, and moon ornament on their respective seat of power.
I know for a fact that I'm not a telepath, because if I was I would've been able to hear all the lewd thoughts the priestesses-in-training had about me in my teen years.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?", a voice of grace and power asks aloud from behind.
The boy turns around to find three women studying him and asks with curiosity, "Who are you?"
"-ulius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"
"Good, lets get this thing over with."
That's what I woke up to and after blinking the drowsiness away, I saw that we had arrived to our supposed destination. It was a decent sized town^ with several shops, a tavern, many houses of varying sizes and a keep for guards and/or soldiers for varying occasions. In front of those houses were the many occupants standing there, viewing what was before them as common as a visit to the market. But that's not what stood out the most. No, what stood out were the couple dozen Altmer soldiers led by a beautiful Altmer woman. The leader looked young like many of those of Mer blood, but I could tell by her eyes that she was older than what she appeared as and had experience in battle by way of her posture. She was talking to an aged Imperial wearing golden legionnaire armor with an embroidered cloak, a general if I remember correctly.
"General Tulius, the military governor, and the Thalmor are here too with that whore Elenwen at the lead. Bet that they have something to with this, those damned knife-ears.", was what I heard from the Stormcloak soldier across from me.
For a split second it seemed that me and the Thalmor woman, Elenwen, made eye contact and stayed there for what seemed like an era. I could have sworn that her eyes lit up and her mouth develop the tiniest of smirks when she glimpsed at me. I don't know why, but I had this sinking suspicion that we would meet later in the future...that is if I survived the occasion.
The Stormcloak spoke again, "So this is Helgen, I used to be sweet on a girl here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in?"
The last bit went unanswered when the voice of a young boy behind me asked, "Who're all those people, Papa?"
I turned my head as best as I could to see a young boy of barely ten years sitting on the front porch of his home with who I believed to be his parents. The mother was wearing a simple yellow dress and brown shoes and had her sandy blonde hair let down across her back. The father on the other hand was wearing hide armor, with a steel dagger at his waist, instead of regular civilian clothing.
'Possibly a hunter, and a good one too by those scars on him.', I idly thought.
The father turned to his and said,"Time to go inside little cub."
"Why? I want to watch soldiers!", the boy replied.
"Inside. Now.", the father said with authority, obviously not taking no for an answer.
The boy pouted and replied depressingly with, "Fine." The mother took her son's hand and led him to the door, but not before giving a small kiss to her husband and then went inside.
We passed more homes and heard more small conversations from the other occupants, mostly about us and their feelings about the situation. There were some others that didn't involve us prisoners. Instead, it was about some odd being flying near a mountain called the Throat of the World. Some remarked about it being an odd beast from Morrowind, inhabiting the eastern side of the Jerrals. Others thought it was a Daedra summoned by a dark mage. The gossiping slowed however when we entered the training yard of the keep. There were two entrances to the main part and a tower to the right. In front of the tower was a priestess, two captains, some soldiers, and an executioner. It was clear to me that we were now at the end of our journey.
As we pulled up to the side the thief asked aloud, "Why are we stopping?"
"What do you think? End of the line.", the Stormcloak replies, then turns to me and says, "Lets go, best not to keep the Gods waiting for us."
As we all stand to exit the carriage, the thief cries out in desperation, "Wait! We're not rebels!"
'Fat chance getting them to listen, coward.', I think.
"Face your death with some courage, thief!", the Stormcloak states behind me.
"You've got to tell them, we're weren't with you! This is a mistake!", he continues to cry out.
"Tch, Empire loves their damn lists."
We line up in two rows, a captain and a soldier to each carriage, names being called out and rebels walking to the execution block, each awaiting the death toll to be paid… in blood.
Soon all but two carriages worth of prisoners are left, mine and another to the left. The captain in charge of our line is an Imperial woman with a scowl of disgust on her face as she looks at each one of us as if we're all the same type of prisoner. The soldier to her left is a Nord soldier in light legionnaire armor holding a book that contains our names. He's different from the captain due to the easily approachable but hardened look on his face. He appears to be the one tasked with calling out the names of each prisoner in our carriage.
'Well they're names, not mine.', I thought.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.", the soldier starts to call out, with obvious contempt in his tone. The bound man walks up to the line, unresisting as if he has accepted his fate...or he knows he can escape this.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric.", the rebel soldier, who is now besides me, calls out with pride
"Ralof of Riverwood.", the rebel walks up, staring the soldier straight in the eyes for the longest time. Apparently they knew each from the look in both their eyes.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
The thief walks up and states, "You can't do this!"
He then makes a run for it, ignoring the captain's yell to halt. He yells out in victory, sure of his escape when all of a sudden an arrow strikes him in the calf. Two more strikes his chest, he is dead before he even hit the ground.
The captain looks back at the rest of us with a smug look on her face and states her warning, "Anyone else feel like running?"
The name calling continues, more people head to the execution line, when finally it all came down to me. The soldier looks at me, then at his list and then back at me with confusion clear on his face.
"Wait! You there, step forward!", he calls out to me.
All previous activity stops, everyone from soldiers to civilians look at me. Curiosity on their minds, wondering why I was getting extra attention. It could have been that I didn't talk the entire time since we arrived. Or it could be the possibility that no one could see my face (Forgot to mention that I'm currently wearing travelers clothes with a deep hood drawn up).
"Take the hood off.", he orders. I comply and as I do so, gasps of shock are heard when everyone in sight of me catches sight of my appearance.
What they see is clearly not what their expecting when my young face of 26 years, accompanied with long locks of raven black hair that ends at the bottom of my shoulder blades is seen. Three scars from what appears to be a wolf's claw runs down the right side of my face, an accident from my early adulthood years. A beard runs from my sideburns to my face, ending halfway on the underside of my chin, my eyes a rich shade of golden outer ring and silver inner ring giving me a grizzled but handsome look.
Many young women are struck with arousal when they look upon my visage, and I could see that they were hoping that, by some divine miracle, I am spared the fate that meets the rest of the prisoners. It wasn't only them however, many of the female soldiers and rebels are staring at me with desire and lust, except the Imperial captain it seems since she continues to give me the stink eye. The men on the other hand, were looking at my scars wondering what kind of wolf could inflict such scars that were each as thick as a sword blade.
"Who...are you?" the soldier asks with curiosity. The question is shared inside everyone's thoughts as the look at me, even the general, Tulius, and Thalmor leader, Elenwen, stare at me curiosity on the former and both curiosity and desire on the latter's face. I look around at everyone, contemplating my options on whether or not to answer him. The captain growing impatient with my silence barks out the question with a threatening tone.
I look at the sky, close my eyes and take a deep breath. I look down and stare directly and unwavering in the soldier's eyes and state clearly with a baritone voice, "My name is Gaellon Ebonheart, last of the Ebonheart clan."
More gasps are heard, this time in shock from my statement. I wasn't surprised since the Ebonheart's were said to have died out during the Oblivion crisis two centuries ago. We were one of the oldest Nord families with ties to both Atmora and Akavir. We were also reputed with being the only family to make honorable deals with the Daedric Princes that were kept on both ends. It didn't help that some of history's greatest mages held some form of relation to my clan, the most famous being Archmage Shalidor himself.
Indeed, there were many legends that surrounded the Ebonhearts and many more that held them in many relations. Tiber Septim himself was said to have studied under an Ebonheart priest. To learn that a possible Ebonheart still exists would be enough to spark a continental war. However even among all the shocked, Ulfric included if you can believe it, I could see there were some with doubtful looks on their faces. One such person was General Tulius himself, I could see the doubtful yet curious visage he currently wore. I couldn't begin to guess what he was possibly thinking about but whatever it was, it could possibly spare me or kill me.
After what seems like days, but in truth was only a few minutes, he turns to all the other soldiers with log books and orders, "Check the lists for a Gaellon Ebonheart. I ordered that all names and origins were cataloged."
The soldiers flip through page after page, one by one they call a negative response of my name being on any lists of prisoners recorded. Soon even the captains join, meticulously scanning each page for my name or any name with Ebonheart I'm suspecting. After a half-hour has passed, the captains relay the same response as their assistants to the general. By now the young village women are looking all the more hopeful that I would be spared from Sithis's embrace.
I ignored the whispers and hushed conversations of hormonal young women and focused my attention on the Thalmor that was currently attending, due to them being a mysterious factor in the decision of my fate. Elenwen herself seemed curious about my lineage, even though I had no knowledge of a connection between my clan and the Altmer of Summerset Isles.
My attention was brought back to the Imperials when the general walked towards my position, a look of intent on his face that didn't reveal what kind he was thinking of. Everyone was watching with baited breath, waiting to see what he was planning on doing with me, even I was to be honest, and whether or not it involved the gladius his hand was holding.
I was tense and ready to do whatever was necessary to survive if the situation suddenly turned sour.
When he arrived at my position he stared me right into the eye and asked in a very no nonsense voice, "You claim to be of the Ebonheart clan, yes?"
I return the stare and nod my head once, hoping that he doesn't ask the one thing that I'm silently dreading. He continues to stare and says the one thing that I was praying he wouldn't, "Prove it."
I'm hesitant, not really sure if I should comply or refuse. I never had to use my family name before, and I didn't know that anyone outside of the clan knew of the secret that identified one as an Ebonheart. The general is still staring at me with an expectant look on his face, clearly not backing away until he is shown proof of my lineage. The captain was about to repeat the question, but was silenced when the general raises a hand in her direction. He repeats himself instead and grips his sword, ready to draw if I didn't do as he commanded.
Knowing that there was no escaping the situation, I hold out my bound hands to him and give a knowing look. He nods his head, understanding what was needed and take his hand off his sword and instead draws a simple iron dagger. He reaches for the bindings when the captain speaks out in shock, "General, sir! What are you doing? He could be lying for all we know! If you cut the binds he could probably cast some spell and disappear!"
Tulius stops midway and stares the woman in the eye, saying nothing but clearly expressing his ire at the outburst. The captain realizes her mistake and bows her head, giving an apology for her near insubordination and stays silent. He then turns back to me and slowly saws the knife through the lashing of my bindings, everyone staying silent throughout the process, curious as to what was about to occur. Some were making bets that I would cast a spell to escape, others were said that I would grab the knife and stab the general, the rest said nothing and simply waited.
When the last strands were cut apart, the general steps back two paces to give me space yet still within striking range. After I rub my wrists to rid the numbing sensation, I reach for the collar of my tunic and untie the laces. As I was stripping the cotton and wool shirt off, I could hear soldiers grasping their swords, archers knocking arrows at my direction, and mages readying spells, all of them ready to end my life then and there should I make a hostile move.
However, their conviction faltered when they saw the appearance of my torso, the sight shocking them and forever etched in their minds. For emblazoned on my chest was something I took great pains to hide.
A tribal tattoo of a heart...
Surrounded by Aedric, Daedric, and unknown symbols...
Pulsing as if it was alive...
Magicka running through each individual mark.
TBC...
Finally, I manage to post this chapter. Working on the roads sucks major balls and the heat in the mountains can kiss my mixed blooded ass. On another note, I decided to get help to manage my time better and get into a healthier state so I'm not as tired everyday. Which means that I won't be able to post new chapters on a weekly basis anymore. This doesn't mean I'm abandoning the story (Not when I have put so much time in creating the concept details), it just means that I'll probably post on different days then on Saturdays which I prefer.
Also I'm in the process in getting visual image of the main character and other certain characters done. I'll put the image links on my bio page when they're finished.
Stay tuned for the next chapter, where the real execution begins and Alduin makes an appearance.
^ - I plan on expanding the Skyrim world. The game world was too small to work with and felt that there wasn't enough locations, landmarks, and random occurrences.