Author's Note: I've made a slight edit to this first chapter as there was a typo or two I somehow missed. But also to add to the mention of the High Elves as they will come in later and I already left in that piece of dialogue from Ralof. Anyway big thank you to the few people supporting this story! I know its moving slowly but I intend to create a unique narrative of my Dragonborn through many adventures. Chapter 3 has been uploaded!
Chapter 1 Helgen
The sound of hooves clomping against rock and dirt, wagon wheels rolling along an uneven road, and faint sounds of nature were all that could be heard as they waited for their doom. Mjolta didn't know how she got caught up in all of this. A war between the Imperials and the Stormcloaks shouldn't affect her but here she was…captured and to be executed. She'd already tried reasoning with the Imperial guards that she wasn't with them, which turned into yelling, which led to her getting smacked with a shield over the head. There had to be a way to escape these binds. No way she was going to die because of these rebels. Jumping was pointless as the surrounding patrol would kill her quickly. There was nothing sharp enough to cut her binds. She had no choice but to play along until she has an opening.
Three other men sat with her in the small carriage, their hands all bound by leather straps. To her left in front of her sat a good looking man with long blonde hair, a thick strand in a braid fell past his left cheek where a thin beard framed his face. He wore the standard guard uniform the Stormcloaks all had with Aegean blue around his torso. Next to him sat another man with dark, greasy hair slicked back. He was filthy even for an adventurer; the smell of body odor and dirt was powerful but thankfully she didn't have a weak stomach. They dressed him in a burlap prisoner garb and tattered pants, wraps on his feet. On her right was a nord male with dirty blonde hair pushed back, dressed in heavy black fur cloak and boots. His features were more rugged and his mouth was gagged. She felt as if she should know him, he seemed important but she couldn't quite put a finger on why. Mjolta still wore the sleeveless studded armor she'd had for a while now, a metal plate on her left shoulder and in the center of her waist where it formed a natural belt. The rest fell down in a kilt like fashion barely covering her exposed thighs and knees. She wore matching bracers on her forearms and boots made of hide, studded at the cuffs.
"That's an interesting necklace you got there." The blonde on the left asked with a pleasant accent. Mjolta realized she was still wearing it, luckily they didn't take it from her as it was the only thing she had left of her mentor. The necklace was the only thing that stood out as it was a leather cord with a small engraved tablet in the center, a couple teeth on either side.
"It's a token of Kyne, wearing it brings me luck when hunting." She told him, matching his kindness with a small smile.
"You were trying to cross the border, same as us? Walked right into that imperial ambush, and that thief over there." He looked to the dark haired man. The man gave the blonde a spiteful look.
"Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along. The empire was nice and lazy." He spat back.
"If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He added matter of fact. The blonde remained silent. The dark haired man looked to her suddenly with large brown eyes.
"You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." He addressed her nicer than he did the others. Mjolta didn't like to choose sides but as far as executions go they definitely didn't deserve this as a punishment so he was right.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now." The blonde haired man simply stated, making a fair point.
"Shut up back there!" The driver called back to them but none of them cared.
"What's wrong with him?" The dark haired man asked, eyeing the other man curiously.
"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king!" The blonde piped up, very defensively. That was why he seemed so familiar to her. She'd heard the name and knew he was the leader of their rebellion. But she hadn't much need for politics, up until now at least.
"Wait…Ulfric? You're the leader of the rebellion." The dark haired man was coming to the same conclusion she did.
"Oh gods! Where are they taking us?" He asked frantically, his eyes wide and she could sense his fear.
"I don't know where we're going…but Sovngarde awaits." The blonde haired man said distantly, speaking as if they were already dead.
"This can't be happening, this isn't happening!" The dark haired man was on the verge of panic. He wrung his hands together and seemed shaky. She'd been quiet up until this point, still planning some form of escape. But she had sympathy even for a thief.
"Stay calm. Maybe we can convince the guards we aren't part of this and they'll just send us to a hold jail instead." Mjolta said trying to ease his nerves. She really hoped that was the case since they didn't have any other options.
"You tried reasoning with them already it's pointless. We're gonna die, same as them." He was breathing quickly, fearing the inevitable.
"Hey, what village are you from horse thief?" The blonde asked him sincerely. The dark haired man looked pained at the thought.
"Why do you care?" He said apprehensively.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." The blonde stated calmly. The dark haired man sighed in defeat. After a moment he spoke again.
"Rorikstead…I'm..I'm from Rorikstead." He answered calmly. He seemed a lot more collected than he did moments ago. They approached the big wooden gates of Helgen. They were opened by guards inside as their carriage drew closer.
"General Tullius Sir, the headsman is waiting!" A patrol called back to the imperial general who rode behind them on horseback. Mjolta turned back to see an older man sitting upon his mount. He was clean shaven, short cropped white hair among his deeply tanned skin. There would be no mistaking him as an Imperial.
"Good. Let's get this over with." His words were simple and on point. She couldn't believe that was his response to this situation. Killing bandits or murderers was one thing, but acting like none of the lives in this carriage mattered was taking it too far. The dark haired man started whispering names of the divines praying they could help him.
"Looks like the Thalmor are with them. Damn elves! I'll bet they have something to do with this." The blonde spoke with such hate. His scowl when he mentioned the elves was bitter. She noticed a pair of High elves dressed in full elven armor standing straight ahead off to the side of the path. They were talking with some Imperial guardsmen. She only knew the Thalmor hated Talos worship, other than that she didn't know much about their order.
They entered the town on the same bumpy stone path that wrapped around a bend. Big stone walls surrounding the town would have made it hard for someone to climb over should they try to escape, scratch that option. Not to mention the watch towers that were on either side. The only way out she could tell was the way they came in. Wooden houses lined the right side behind her, people standing outside on porches, some already going inside and closing their doors tight.
"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." The blonde reminisced, his expression fixed on a house ahead, as if he were lost in a memory.
"Funny…when I was a boy, imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." The pain in his statement was almost enough to convince anyone the empire was the true enemy here. But politics like this aren't usually so black and white. As far as she was concerned they were the ones about to execute her, it was her against them.
"Hey dad, where are they going?" A young boy speaking to his father could be heard somewhere on her left she couldn't quite see.
"You need to go inside son." He ignored his son's question, trying to protect him.
"Why? I want to watch the soldiers." The boy didn't understand what was going on. As if a child so young should ever have to witness something so traumatic.
"Inside the house, now." His tone was now stern. The boy huffed in defeat, not wishing to upset his father.
"Yes papa." With that they both went in and the door was shut tight. They rounded the last corner to where other wagons were already stopped. At least a dozen more Stormcloaks were lined up on the road in front of the other gate. Imperials stood guard surrounding them dressed in brown leather soldier armor.
"Get these prisoners out of the carts, move it!" A commanding female voice boomed. Must be the captain and she didn't sound very happy. She stood next to another guard with no helmet and holding a piece of parchment.
"Why are we stopping?" The dark haired man asked, starting to get a bit jittery again.
"Why do you think? End of the line." The blonde told him. The wagon came to a complete stop and they were standing up, dropping down out of the back and lined up one behind the other. To the left now was a chopping block, a man dressed in a sleeveless black fur outfit laced with chain, and mask covering his face. He was holding an axe as tall as a grown man, a crescent shaped blade at the end. Although only his eyes and mouth could be seen he was clearly enjoying what he was about to do, it made her sick just thinking about it.
"Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time." The captain lady called out. Mjolta now turned her attention straight ahead to see a tan skinned woman wearing heavy steel armor in contrast to the lighter brown leathers the other soldiers had on. A helmet on her head signified she was the captain, with the face open and a steel mane on the top of it.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." The man standing beside the captain called, checking over his parchment for the names. Ulfric took a few steps towards them. The dark haired man was nearly bouncing now, turning back to face her with wild eyes.
"This isn't our fault!" He then faced the blonde.
"Please! Tell them we weren't with you!" He begged but even she knew it was no good now.
"Face your death with some courage thief." The blonde's words weren't exactly encouraging nor kind but there wasn't much they could do about it now. The imperials weren't going to listen to reason. The next name was called.
"Ralof of Riverwood." The blonde haired man stepped forward, now known as Ralof. The guard with the list wasn't imperial but was in fact a nord as well. The two exchanged a look, she couldn't tell but it was definitely a knowing one, as if they knew this day might come.
"Unfortunate it's come to this." The brown haired guard said pitifully. Ralof said nothing but grunted a little and walked away to line up by the block. The next name was called out.
"Lokir of Rorikstead." The nord called out, the dark haired man who was now Lokir took a shaky step forward.
"I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" He cried out, but they only stared as if he hadn't said anything. At the last second he attempted to flee, taking off running down the road they were brought in on.
"Halt!" The captain yelled but he continued to flee.
"You're not gonna kill me!" Lokir said with certainty as he ran as fast as he could with bound hands. Mjolta wanted to yell out to him because it was an obvious trap…but it was too late.
"Archers!" With a simple command, an arrow fired free from a shot trained on the runner…lodging itself inside Lokir's throat. He dropped so hard and so quick she exhaled slightly. She'd taken life before and was well accustomed to death. But this wasn't the same. Someone having their life taken without a chance, no way out. She knew this would be her fate if she tried to run now or anytime they captured her. All of this because she wanted to venture a bit further past the bounds of this cold land. Now blood oozed from a lifeless corpse laying in a heap on the stone road, staining the ground in crimson.
"Anyone else feel like running?" The female captain challenged, her dark eyes scanning the crowd for anyone who dared try to escape. Mjolta only ever hated few people in her life, but she believed this captain was deserving of the fate put on Lokir. He may not have been a good person, perhaps he did terrible things in his life. But she believed he deserved a better fate than this. Maybe it was the end for her today, but something in her gut was telling her this wasn't it. Something was going to happen, she could almost sense it.
"Mjolta of Riften." The brown haired nord called her name. She held her shoulders back, her head high, and took a deep breath before stepping forward.
"I'm sorry. But at least you'll die here, in your homeland. Follow the captain prisoner." He said with sincerity, his expression was pained. She believed he meant what he said but the fact that none of the guards stood up for anything and just did as they were told still bothered her. This is why she'd never wanted to join the legion even it meant food and a place to sleep. She followed the captain over to line up before the chopping block. General Tullius stood with his hands behind his back, looking almost pleased with himself.
"Ulfric Stormcloak...some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use the power like the voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." He started in on Ulfric, who was probably irritated they gagged his mouth and forgot to plug his ears so he didn't have to hear this man's words.
"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos! Now the empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!" He said with certainty, as though he single handedly stopped the rebels.
Just then a cry broke through the crowds. It echoed and was distant but too hard to fully make out. It sounded too large to be a bird or any flying creature that came to mind.
"What was that?" The guard with the list asked curiously, searching the skies. She looked up too and saw nothing but puffy clouds and smoke coming from the houses and tops of the towers.
"It's nothing, carry on." The general said, looking around briefly before returning to the task at hand.
"Yes General Tullius. Give them their last rights." The captain spoke to the priestess she hadn't taken notice of until now. She wore a light orange robe that covered her body, a hood and shoulder wrap of a yellow hue to match. Her face was kind and simple, round facial features, a Breton most likely. She raised her hands to speak, looking to the sky above.
"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the eight divines upon you." But she was rudely interrupted by another guard before she could finish.
"For the love of Talos! Shut up and let's get this over with." He piped up. Maybe he mentioned Talos to spite her, since she mentioned the eight divines. But she dropped her arms reluctantly, clearly upset.
"As you wish." Her response was very annoyed, but who could blame her.
They lined up the first Stormcloak at the chopping block, just a soldier of whom she didn't know the name of. He didn't seem fazed by this situation at all.
"My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials. Can you say the same?" He asked them all boldly as the executioner brought his head down with his boot unto the block. He raised his axe, lining up his cut before bringing it down onto the Nord's neck. A sickening crunch could be heard, blood sprayed the ground and the boots of the executioner. The Stormcloak's head head rolled off into the wooden crate that couldn't possibly hold more than two heads let alone all of theirs.
"You imperial bastards!" A female from the Stormcloak crowd yelled out.
"Justice!" Another male voice sounded from somewhere else.
"Death to the Stormcloaks!" Yet another voice chipped in.
"As fearless in death, as he was in life." Ralof said, admiring his fallen ally's bravery but still in horror at his death. Just then another shriek came ripping through the sky, this time louder but nothing it could belong to showed itself.
"There it is again. Did you hear that?" The Nord who had the list asked once again, still looking up.
"I said next prisoner!" The captain barked, ignoring whatever else was happening. Now knowing it was her turn to face the block, she said a silent prayer to Stendarr. He was a god of mercy after all so it only made the most sense.
"To the block prisoner, nice and easy." The nord said, painful for him to watch but yet he did nothing but sit idly by.
Mjolta stepped forward, still bound at her wrists in front of her. The block was daunting to anyone but as a Nord, Sovngarde was their heaven. She wasn't exactly sure if it existed, but there was enough in this land to convince any non-believer there could be an afterlife.
Something didn't feel quite right, it was like chills down her spine. Her hairs stood on end as she was pushed down face first to the block. She could feel the executioner raise his axe and prepare to drop it down. Mjolta accepted her fate, maybe it wouldn't be so bad, just quick and painless. Just then massive wingbeats were felt more than they could be heard. The same shrieking cry they heard twice just moments earlier sounded again, this time much louder. She could only see the stone and the dirt below her, she tried to look up to see it but whatever it was crash landed on a watchtower to her left. The whole place rumbled and shifted, the executioner fell to the ground off balance, his axe clattering to the ground somewhere nearby. She heard stone shatter and chip away from above as the creature landed.
"What in oblivion is that?" General Tullius' voice called out in shock.
"Dragon!" A voice shouted. Just then a thunderous cry emitted from the creature she still couldn't see. It made her ears ring, her vision was blurred and she was confused what was even happening. Somehow she was off the chopping block, facing the sky. All she could make out was black scales and fire surrounding her but it was all a blur.
"Don't just stand there men! Get the townspeople to safety!" She could barely hear but it seemed like Tullius crying out in desperation.
"Hey, get up! The gods won't give us another chance!" Ralof helped her to standing, his face coming back into focus as he started to pull her along.
"This way!" He called as he let go of her and ran to another tower straight ahead. She was still stunned but ran after him, flames raging on everywhere else. She entered the watchtower, her breaths short and quick. Ulfric and a few other Stormcloaks were already inside the circular room. Ulfric had been unbound and had his gag removed, he looked way more intimidating now. One of the soldiers walked up to her with their sword and sliced free her wrist binds. Mjolta gave an appreciative nod as she rubbed her wrists, her hearing finally coming back now.
"Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof asked in wonder, checking outside the door to see if something was out there.
"Legends don't burn down villages." It was the first time she'd heard Ulfric speak, his voice deep and commanding but not like the captain or Tullius. He seemed to be what people had described him as, tall, brooding and very leader like.
Another crashing sound came from outside, followed by yelling and screams of agony. Mjolta didn't know how to react, she took a second to catch her breath and focus, they needed to get to safety.
"We need to move now!" Ulfric's deep voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
They started up the spiral staircase to the top of the tower. She didn't have any weapons but at least her hands were free, giving her a better chance of climbing or escaping. Once they had reached the top floor before the roof they saw a Stormcloak who was pinched under some fallen rubble.
"Help us move some of these rocks." Ralof ordered and she obeyed. They all heaved and managed to lift it enough for them to crawl out, holding his leg with both hands.
They had no time to plan their next move as the wall behind them burst open with a small explosion, stone chunks flying past them. Mjolta saw dark black scales and a sharp horned face, glowing red eyes with no pupils hidden behind the scales and razor sharp teeth as it opened it's mouth. She saw the fire about to ignite in it's throat and she dove towards the stairs, out of the way as it blasted a hot stream of flames into the tower. When it realized they were all out of its reach it snapped in frustration, backing away to go terrorize someone else.
"By the Gods! We were almost dinner!" The Stormcloak they saved said frantically, sweat beading his brow as he was shaking slightly.
Mjolta stood carefully, checking the broken hole in the tower. Just below was a longhouse. The straw and wood on the roof had caved in, leaving an opening to the second floor, maybe a one story drop.
"We can't stay here we need to get to the keep." Ralof said, moving to stand next to her. He noticed the route she was about to take.
"After you." He said politely, a small smirk on his face.
Mjolta leapt from her position and hit the floor below, rolling to reduce impact. She popped back to standing and continued onward. Ralof, Ulfric and the other three Stormcloaks followed suit, only landing rather harshly on their feet with a loud plop. They made their way down the stairs of this person's home, discovering it was a trading shop as the merchant's chests, shelving and counters occupied the first floor. Mjolta made her way to one of the chests.
"We don't have time for pillaging." Ralof scolded her but she was only looking for one thing.
She found a sharped steel blade inside a sheath, wrapped at the hilt in light brown leather, a pattern carved into the hilt. She slid it out a little to see if the blade was sharp, it would serve just fine.
"I think I can make better use of it out there than in here." She told him confidently. He said nothing but motioned for her to follow.
They exited through the front door to see a horrific sight. Guards and citizens lay dead underneath rubble. Fires burned everywhere, creating dark smoke billowing into the sky above. Mjolta had never witnessed such a massive slaughter before. The dragon, which was very much real, was still fighting to kill some guards shooting arrows at its hard scales, only a few actually sticking in between.
She saw a young boy caught in the middle of the path behind the dragon. He was maybe no older than seven, short dark hair and dressed in a red tunic. He was terrified and watched the creature move towards the guards. His father called out to him.
"Hamming!" His father's voice cried out anxiously. The boy didn't know whether to advance or not, clearly petrified of the dragon.
Mjolta didn't think twice before rushing directly towards the dragon. She drew her sword and sliced at its legs with a cry. It turned to face her, she ran underneath it's body and to the other side, hitting it's other front leg. She circled it as it tried to hit her but failed each time.
"Go now while I have it!" She shouted to the boy who now ran to his father's arms across the road in the other building.
The creature became very annoyed and launched itself into the air, giant wingbeats flapping, nearly knocking her off balance. She knew what was next and ran for cover.
"Stand clear!" She yelled for the rest of the survivors to move out of the way. She dove into the front door of a house just as the flames nearly seared her. Panting, she stood up only to be met with a father holding his son in his arms. He looked at her with tears in his eyes.
"Thank you!" He said, she only nodded before turning back to see the dragon trying to swoop down on the building. They all braced tightly as parts of the roof caved in. Ulfric, Ralof, and the other Stormcloaks were moving along outside while it was distracted.
"To the keep! Let's move!" Ralof could be heard calling out to his fellow soldiers.
She knew they couldn't stay where they were, the only chance they had would be to make a run for it. She had to distract it while they all made a run for it.
"I'll lead it towards the east gate and distract it, everyone has to make for the keep!" She stood before the handful of citizens in the house and two imperial guards as she spoke.
"Why would you risk your life when we were about to execute you?" Asked one of the guards.
"Because no one should suffer the fate of that creature." She stated. He seemed taken back by her willingness to help after all that happened today.
With that she led the way outside, holding her sword ready and moving to get the attention of the creature. It noticed her running by and made a swipe for her, she dodge rolled out of the way. It missed her by mere inches, swooping around outside of the walls and the trees behind them.
The group moved with the imperials aiming their bows to guard the people. Everyone made a break for the keep across the now obstructed town. Less than a dozen archers remained shooting at the dragon. It didn't seem to want to land anywhere just yet.
Taking the opportunity, she bolted across the road into a collapsed house. She climbed through an opening in the wall and carried on past the smoke out the other side. The dragon landed on the northeastern wall and began spraying once again, charring one of the archers. She ran through an opening and inside a courtyard to the right was the entrances to the keep. Seeing the citizens moving their way in through one of the doors was a tiny relief. Ralof and the other nord guard that had the clipboard were arguing.
"We're escaping Hadvar! You're not stopping us this time!" Ralof said, determined to get away.
"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" He retorted. But Mjolta was already moving up on both of them.
"Both of you knock it off we all have a serious threat on our hands!" She yelled at them. She'd been quiet in the wagon ride but now she'd had enough of the war for one day. They needed to put it aside and escape if they wanted to live. They both exchanged a reluctant look and motioned to one of the keep's doors.
"She's right. Come on now it's our last chance." Hadvar said, Ralof only huffed in response, clearly not okay with their truce.
The dragon made one last swoop as they all made a break for the door, once again just missing them and they slammed the door shut behind them. They were in the clear…for now.