Song of the Dragonborn
Rhapsody
Movement I
The steady clip-clop of the horses' hooves, the clinking and clanking of the armor of the Imperials flanking them and the creaking of the wagon's wheels were merely a part of the gentle tapestry of ambient noise that enveloped the prisoners on their way to their destination. Aboard the second wagon were no less than six people, with an equal number riding in the wagon ahead. Of those six, two were blond Nords dressed in clear Stormcloak armor. One man, in clothes fit for a Jarl, was gagged, and glared furiously at a point on the ground in front of him. One was a Nord, dressed in the rags of a commoner, another a Bosmer in the rags of a prisoner. The last figure, a dark-skinned Breton, was dressed in the finery of a nobleman and was only just then making his return to consciousness for the trip.
"Hey, you! You're finally awake!" one of the pair of blond Stormcloaks hailed as the black-haired Breton blinked and looked around in utter confusion.
"Where-?" he asked, trying to pull his wrists apart as if he'd only just then realized he'd been bound.
"You were trying to cross the border, right?" the same Stormcloak asked, studying the Breton closely as he tried to regain his bearing. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us. And that thief over there."
The Bosmer lifted her head from its depressed tilt as the brown-haired Nord spat, "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 by now."
The horse thief turned his attention to the Breton. "You there. You and me? We shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
The second Stormcloak's fist clenched, but his comrade in arms gave both he and the horse thief a withering gaze. "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."
"I'd ascertained that much." the Breton said with a shrug. "Any idea where they're-"
"Shut up back there!" the carriage driver, a member of the Imperial Legion shouted towards his charges.
The imposed silence lasted only a moment before the horse thief was making conversation again. "So what's with him, huh?" he asked, indicating the gagged Nord in Jarl's clothing.
"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" the first Stormcloak warned sharply, his fury echoed in his comrade in arms' eyes.
Realization dawned upon the horse thief. "Ulfric...? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion! But if they've captured you, then... oh gods, where are they taking us?"
The first Stormcloak's resignation to his fate was clear as he slowly answered, "I don't know where we're going... but Sovngarde awaits."
At the mention of the Nordic afterlife, the horse thief began to panic. "No... this can't be happening. This isn't happening-!"
It was at this provocation that the second Stormcloak finally spoke. "Hey, what village are you from horse thief?"
Defensiveness was his reply. "Why do you care?"
It was the first Stormcloak who answered for his comrade. "A Nord's last thoughts... should be of home."
A brief pause, then a hesitant reply. "Rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead."
"And you?" the second Stormcloak prompted, his eyes resting upon the Breton.
"I'm from High Rock. I was trying to flee to Cyrodiil when I got caught with the rest of you." the Breton replied, with far more casualty than was appropriate for the circumstances. "What about you, then? Where're you from?"
"Kynesgrove, originally. I moved into Windhelm after I joined the Stormcloaks." the second Stormcloak answered. He then turned his attention to the Bosmer woman. "And what about you? You've been very quiet."
"You were told to be silent!" the Imperial riding behind them warned sharply.
Shortly after being barked once more into silence, the carriage driver addressed General Tullius, who was crossing the bridge in the entryway to their final destination. "General Tullius, sir, the headsman is waiting!"
"Good. Let's get this over with." General Tullius replied, glaring down at the prisoners riding into the city.
Reactions varied as the horse thief ran through his list of the Divines to pray to for help. Ulfric and his Stormcloaks seemed content to ignore him, resigned to their ultimate fate. The Bosmer rolled her eyes at the unseemly display. The Breton let out a derisive laugh in response, and said, "I would think by now the Divines have abandoned us."
Choosing to ignore both thief and Breton, the first Stormcloak chose to voice his contempt for their situation. "Look at him. General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with them. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this!"
Silence fell across the wagon as each person therein turned to examine the meeting between Imperial and Altmer going on behind them.
It was the fist Stormcloak who once again broke the silence, having finally recognized their location. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod's still making the mead with Juniper berries mixed in..."
With a sigh of sad remniscence, the second Stormcloak spoke. "Funny... when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe..."
The murmurs and whispers of the townspeople, as well as the comments of a curious child, fell upon deaf ears as the wagon caravan slowly ground itself to a halt.
"What's going on? Why are we stopping?" the horse thief asked, looking around in blind panic.
"Why do you think? End of the line." the first Stormcloak commented. He turned his attention to Breton and Bosmer and said "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."
As they all disembarked, the horse thief's panic grew more obvious. "No, wait! We're not rebels!"
It was the until then silent Bosmer who scoffed at the thief's sniveling. "Face your death with some courage, thief."
The horse thief looked pleadingly towards both Stormcloaks and the Breton as he begged, "You've got to tell them we weren't with you! This is a mistake!"
The Imperial Captain's voice cut through the air like a finely sharpened blade as she ordered, "Step towards the block when we call your name! One at a time!"
The first Stormcloak scoffed behind the Bosmer. "Empire loves their damn lists."
For this comment, he received a nod of agreement.
"Hadvar, the names. Call them now." the captain ordered.
Hadvar unrolled his scroll containing the list of names and pulled out a quill. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm."
As Ulfric advanced towards the executioner's block, the two Stormcloaks serving under him bowed their heads in respect. "It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric."
"Ralof of Riverwood."
The first of the Stormcloaks to speak advanced towards the block in stoic silence.
"Torik of Kynesgrove."
The second Stormcloak to speak followed after his brother in arms, though he levied a contemptuous "Thalmor lapdog!" at Hadvar as he passed.
"Mohana of Valenwood."
Mohana did as she was commanded and advanced for the gathering crowd at the executioner's block. She looked neither at the Imperial Soldiers, nor at the Stormcloaks soon to join her in death, but at a fixed point somewhere on the ground in front of her. At least, until the next name was called.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Lokir the horse-thief cried out in fear, starting to charge down the road past the captain. He ignored her cries to halt with a defiant "You're not going to kill me!"
She gave the command, and Lokir of Rorikstead fell dead, his body turned into a pincushion by the legion's finest archers. "Anyone else feel like running?"
Hadvar crossed the last name off his list, and saw that one prisoner remained unaccounted for. "Wait. You there. Step forward."
The Breton did as he was bade, raising an eyebrow in curiosity at the Imperial before him.
"Who are you?" Hadvar asked.
The Breton took a long moment to answer, as if he were debating on giving truth or falsehood. The sun glinted in his brown eyes as he finally replied, "My name is Celestine."
Hadvar nodded in understanding as he penned the name. "You from Daggerfall, Breton? Fleeing from some court intrigue?"
Celestine scoffed. "You could say that."
"Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list." Hadvar wondered, looking to his commanding officer for advice.
With a look on her face that could only imply some personal slight, the captain ordered, "Forget the list! He goes to the block!"
Both Celestine and Hadvar blinked in surprise, taken aback at the reaction. "Surely this is an overreaction-!" Celestine protested as Hadvar replied, "By your orders, captain."
Hadvar gave Celestine a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock."
Once again, the Breton's reply was a derisive scoff. "Oh yes, please do, I'm sure my father would love to spit on my ashes."
With that last comment, he joined his brothers and sisters in death.
Satisfied that all the prisoners had been gathered, General Tullius turned his attention to the first target of his rage. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen would call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne!"
The proud Jarl of Windhelm's response was muffled by his gag.
Tullius's fists clenched. "You started this war, and plunged Skyrim into chaos. And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace! And as for you-" he turned his attention to Mohana. "You were charged with guarding Emperor Titus Mede II's life, but instead, you allowed an assassin onto the boat and did nothing to save our emperor. Skyrim is falling apart because of your neglect!"
Despite the weight of the allegation being laid upon her, Mohana did not flinch. She simply stared back at a man who'd once been her commanding officer with an unreadable expression.
The sound of a distant, unearthly roar filled the air, sending shivers down the spine of nearly every person present.
"What was that?" Hadvar asked, giving voice to the thought nearly every person present had.
"It's nothing. Carry on." General Tullius ordered with the air of someone ready to end an uncomfortable situation.
"Yes, General Tullius!" the captain answered with zeal. She turned her attention to the priestess of Arkay standing next to her and said, "Give them their rites."
The Priestess of Arkay nodded, and raised her hands in praise. "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-"
A red-haired Stormcloak standing near Torik groaned aloud and stepped towards the executioner's block with a testy "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with."
The priestess of Arkay, annoyed that her attempt at good faith had been so rudely rescinded, sniped back, "As you wish."
"Come on, I haven't got all morning!" the Stormcloak goaded as he was pushed down to the block. As the axe raised over his head, he glared at his executioner and said, "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can yours say the same?"
The axe fell, and with it, the Stormcloak's head.
"You Imperial bastards!" Torik exclaimed, his fists clenched in fury.
Despite cries favoring the Empire from the crowd, Ralof was admiring of his comrade's bravery. "As fearless in death as he was in life..."
The captain's head inclined sharply towards Mohana as she ordered, "Next, the traitorous wood elf!"
All eyes landed on the disgraced Bosmer as Hadvar said, "To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy."
She stepped forward without hesitation, fear, or complaint. She'd done her weeping and screaming in rage over the unfairness of her plight during her imprisonment, and it had done no good. Now, she was resigned. As her head was forced to the block, she closed her eyes and waited for the end.
The same strange roar from earlier filled the air like a wall of sound, only much louder than before. Now, it was accompanied by the sound of large wingbeats.
"What in Oblivion is that?" General Tullius asked, fear and shock tinging his voice.
"Sentries! What do you see?" the captain asked, her voice still grating against Mohana's ears.
"I-It's in the clouds-!"
Mohana dared to open her eyes and look up at the sudden burst of panic infiltrating the crowd. What she caught sight of was first the executioner raising his axe to finish the job. And then she saw an enormous, grey, spiky reptile with gigantic wings and long, sharp fangs. Is that a-
"Dragon!" one of the Stormcloaks cried out, confirming Mohana's thoughts.
The executioner stumbled away from the block. The dragon roared and the sky darkened, lit by falling and fiery meteors. What happened next could only be described as all Oblivion breaking loose. Everyone, Imperial, Stormcloak, prisoner or civilian was running about in blind panic. Mohana's vision blurred and her head ached as the powerful voice of the dragon filled her head. Amidst the din, she heard Ralof's voice ordering her to follow him. Seeing no better option at the time, she ran inside the tower after him, followed by Torik and Celestine.
Her vision was slowly clearing, the pounding in her head subsiding as Ralof spoke with his commander. "Jarl Ulfric! What was that thing? Can the legends be true?"
"Legends don't burn down villages." The now unbound, un-gagged Ulfric replied.
"That thing looked pretty damn real to me." Celestine concurred, something between fear and excitement dancing in his eyes.
The Jarl looked around at those accompanying him before ordering, "We need to move! Now!"
"Up through the tower! Let's go!" Ralof said, charging ahead of the group of five and leading the way. His path- as well as everyone else's- was halted by the crumble of the solid stone walls like they were children's blocks of wood.
The massive dragon poked his head through the wall, and scorched the walls and floor with flames with a shriek of "Yol Toor Shul!"
Seeing the opening of the wall- as well as the opening of a collapsing house next to the tower- as an opportunity, Ralof changed tactics. "Jump through the roof! Quickly now!"
Mohana saw Celestine give Ralof a look as if he were insane before he leapt after the Nord. Mohana was the next to follow, throwing caution and safety to the winds as she prayed her agile feet would not fail her.
Once she'd safely descended through the burned-out house, she came across Hadvar guiding a little boy away from the flame-breathing monstrosity before trying to retreat with the rest of the men. With her headache and vision issues returning, the dragon's shrieking filling her mind, Mohana couldn't see the Stormcloaks who'd led her thus far. Hadvar was the only person she could make out in the chaos, so she followed after him.
"Still alive, prisoner?" Hadvar asked as he looked back at Mohana. "Stay close to me if you want to stay that way!"
It was truly a shame to behold what was likely once a peaceful little village reduced to nothing but flames, rubble, and chaos. Storefonts and houses and taverns and lives all shattered in this one terrible instance. And the damage simply kept growing more severe.
"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar ordered. Mohana complied without hesitation as the dragon's wing crashed into the wall adjacent to her. The breath of flame scorched the ground again, and it was all Mohana could do to keep herself from losing consciousness.
The Imperial Soldiers who tried bravely to take care of the dragon were swiftly losing heart as all their best efforts came to naught. Mohana knew she couldn't afford to look back if she wanted to survive. And indeed, she didn't want to look back and witness the slaughter of many of those she'd once called brothers-in-arms. So she kept her gaze forward. Which meant that she saw Ralof, Torik, Ulfric and the rest of the Stormcloak entourage making their escape.
"Ralof, you damned traitor! Out of my way!" Hadvar screamed, brandishing his sword.
"We're escaping, Hadvar! You won't stop us this time!" Ralof shouted in reply, already charging off towards the keep's back entrance.
"Fine!" Hadvar spat. "I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"
"Sir!" an Imperial soldier greeted, running up to Hadvar. "We need to pursue the traitors and stop them from escaping."
"No, Gregorius!" Hadvar shot back. "I'm more concerned with getting us all out of here alive. We can't pursue the Stormcloaks dead."
"Besides, it looks like an agent of the Thalmor is already chasing after them." a second Imperial added, gesturing towards a woman in Thalmor robes in hot pursuit of the fleeing Stormcloaks.
"Thank you, Zedrick. Now, let's move!"
Mohana followed after Zedrick, Gregorius and Hadvar as they ran into the Helgen Keep. Gregorius was about to shut and bolt the door behind him when he heard a voice cry out, "Wait!"
Celestine, the Breton prisoner, threw himself through the door just before Gregorius could slam it in his face, landing sprawled on the ground. As he struggled to his feet, Hadvar took inventory of the situation.
"Looks like we're the only ones who made it." he noted, looking over his entourage. Two of his fellow Imperials, a traitor to the Empire, and a random imprisoned Breton. "Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times?"
Gregorius cast a condescending glare at the two prisoners in their midst. "Can either of you fight?"
"Why don't you cut our hands free and find out?" Celestine growled in response, narrowing his eyes.
I used to be one of the high-ranking officers of the Empire, and you have the audacity to-! Mohana thought, barely managing to keep the reins on her temper as she, too, glared at Gregorius.
Zedrick sighed. "The Breton does have a point, Gregory. We won't be able to see if they can fight if their hands are still bound. Besides, this is a bad situation all around. We don't need to antagonize the few people in our midst."
Gregory, appropriately cowed into silence, merely nodded his assent.
Hadvar let out a long-suffering sigh, and invited the prisoners to come to him. "Come here. Let's see if we can get those bonds off."
A brief flick of the knife later, and Mohana and Celestine were both rubbing their wrists in order to regain proper circulation.
"There should be plenty of gear around. I'm going to see if I can find something for those burns."
Gregory sighed. "While Hadvar is searching for potions, Zedrick, come here. I can tell that bite you took earlier broke your arm."
Celestine raised an eyebrow as Gregory laid a hand on Zedrick's arm, surrounding it with the soft yellow-white glow of arcane energy. "You're a mage?"
"I deal with healing, yes." Gregory replied tersely. "What of it?"
Celestine shrugged. "Nothing of it. I was simply surprised to find another student of the craft."
"You should arm yourself." Mohana warned the Breton, now that she'd pulled on some ill-fitting officers' armor and grabbed for herself a blade and dagger. "We don't know what we might find down here. And if that dragon manages to bring the keep down on us, we need to be ready to fight it."
Celestine merely smirked in reply. "Oh, I've no need for weapons or armor. Not physical ones, anyway."
With two brief gestures of his hand, the Breton was covered in a shield of pale green magic and holding a phantasmal purple blade. "This spell renders my flesh as impervious as stone. And I've felled my fair share of foes with this conjured blade. Besides, bound weapons leave no evidence, save for the blood."
"You seem very... open with your criminal past." Mohana commented slowly, not sure now whether she wanted to trust this new companion with her life.
"What's the point of hiding it at this point? I'm wanted in High Rock, the Cyrodiil border patrol is waiting for me, the only place my father has no power or ties is here in Skyrim. So long as I don't leave, I have amnesty here." Celestine replied with a casual shrug.
"So how did you come to be caught in that ambush, then?" Mohana asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.
"It's a long story and it has a lot to do with politics. And we need to keep moving." Celestine replied, eyes darting from side to side.
So defensive about it... he must've done something pretty bad in High Rock to try to flee to Cyrodiil. Mohana mused, looking the Breton up and down.
"The prisoner is right. We should keep moving." Hadvar concurred, having just returned from a fruitless potion search. "There will be potions stored further in the keep, I'm sure."
Ralof and Torik gasped for breath as they struggled to keep up with the Jarls's swift footsteps. They had no idea how long they'd been running from Helgen and it wreckage after being unable to break into the Keep. Merely that they had no choice but to keep moving.
"So where are we bound after this, my Jarl?" Ralof asked curiously.
"I am returning to Windhelm. It would be best if we parted ways and laid low for a while before meeting up again." Jarl Ulfric replied solemnly. "I must ask that none of you come with me. Better I fall alone as a symbol than bring my men down with me."
Torik nodded. His superior's logic was very clear. "I understand, my Jarl. Talos guide your steps on your journey."
"And the same to you." Ulfric replied before setting off on the long road towards Windhelm on foot.
Ralof and Torik exchanged a brief look. "Where are you bound, my friend?" Ralof asked his brother in arms. "Better I know now so we don't cross paths until we meet in Windhelm under Jarl Ulfric's banner once more."
"It would be foolish to risk going to Kynesgrove at this point." Torik replied reasonably, stroking his chin in thought. "By now, I'm sure the Thalmor and the Empire already know precisely which house's door to break down, should I return home. I think I'll be making my way up towards Winterhold. I've friends there at the college, and besides, the people of Winterhold are friends of the Stormcloaks. It would be safer there than elsewhere. Or Elsweyr."
Ralof laughed briefly at Torik's joke. "Yes, you and cats don't get along well as I recall. I think I'll be heading for Riverwood, myself. I've family I can call on there."
Ralof clapped his fellow Stormcloak on the back. "Safe travels, my friend. Talos guide you."
Torik nodded in acceptance of the blessing before voicing something that had nagged at the back of his mind ever since they fled Helgen. "By the way, did you happen to see that Thalmor agent?"
Ralof stopped in his tracks. "What Thalmor agent?"
Torik rubbed his temples with a sigh of agitation. "It's probably just my imagination, but as we were running from Helgen, I could have sworn a figure in Thalmor robes was following behind us. Maybe I'm just paranoid, but..."
"But if not, best we both take the meandering paths to our destinations, just in case." Ralof said quietly. "Let's get moving, then. We can't risk waiting around here."
Torik nodded. "Agreed. Talos guide you, my friend."
With that final farewell, the two Stormcloaks parted ways, and could only pray their paths would be free of Thalmor and Imperials searching for them.
To say that traveling through the Helgen Keep and its underground passageway to the outside world had been tense would be to make a severe understatement. With the path blocked by Stormcloaks trying to flee execution and being unwilling to negotiate a temporary truce, the many spiders with dripping fangs and sticky webs and a sleeping cave bear barring their exit, the struggles they faced externally were the least of their worries.
Gregory and Celestine were two forces completely unable to reach an understanding of one another. Celestine found Gregory's constant voiced disapproval of his tactics grating. As grating as Gregory found the Breton's smug attitude with each 'cowardly' kill he committed in their journey. Mohana had earned the ire of her Imperial comrades as her aim with a bow proved sometimes less than accurate, accidentally grazing her brothers in arms. Zedrick and Hadvar tried their best to keep the peace as steel and personalities clashed, but ultimately the group of five managed to reach the outside of the cave. They bowed for cover behind some rocks as the menacing shadow of the dragon loomed over their heads.
When at last the shadow had passed, and the roar turned to a distant rumble, Hadvar turned to face the rest of his group. "I think it's finally gone now. We should keep on before it decides to return. But I think it would be best if we each parted ways."
Gregory nodded. "Understood, sir. By your leave, I believe Zedrick and I will be returning to Solitude. We need to see if General Tullius managed to survive the attack."
Hadvar nodded. "That would be acceptable. And understandable. Proceed."
"Er, if I may-?" Celestine cut in. "I would like to go with the two of you to Solitude. It seems like one of the better locations for me to start my new life here in Skyrim. A bustling city like that must have plenty of opportunities for a newcomer to make their fortune."
Gregory's annoyance and disapproval of the idea was written all over his face, but Zedrick cut him off from speaking with a merry, "Of course! The more the merrier. And we could always use a mage like you in the Legion. Been running short on those of late."
When the two Imperials and the Breton began their trek northwards to Solitude, Hadvar turned his attention to Mohana. "I heard... rumors of what happened aboard the Katariah. Amaund Motierre will still be calling for your blood, but after the events here, I can see if General Tullius might be able to sway him into offering you amnesty. If we're clever about it- and if you want to- you might even be able to have a position in the Legion again. You'd have to start from the bottom again, of course, but-"
Mohana's mouth became a grim line. "I'm not so sure I want to trust the Empire after I was nearly put to death for a crime I did not commit."
Hadvar nodded solemnly. "I understand that. If you've nowhere else to go for now, you could always follow me to Riverwood. I have an uncle who works there as a blacksmith so that we might restock on supplies before going our separate ways."
He doesn't seem like he's going to turn me over to be executed again... and he did help me get out of Helgen when he could have left me to my fate. Mohana mused as she considered his offer. And if I've any hope of living past the next week, I'll need food.
Her reply was slow, but it came. "Very well. I'll go with you to Riverwood. After that, I can't say if we'll cross paths again, but... thank you for your help."