Chapter Six

Her head was heavy. She could feel the strain on her neck as it swung limply from her shoulders. It was dark. She couldn't see anything—or she couldn't open her eyes. She tuned into her other senses. She could feel tight leather around her wrists, binding them together. She was sitting on something that was moving. A carriage? Yes. She could hear the round wooden wheels grinding against the gravel path. Why was she on a carriage? Why where hands bound? Panic started to rise within her. Although her body protested, she forced her eyelids apart. Blurred vision gave her some idea of those around her. Someone was sitting in front of her. As her vision improved, she saw that it was a man. A nord man. Dressed in the blue uniform of the Stormcloak Rebels. He had shoulder length blonde hair that framed his chiselled face. A scruffy beard lined his jaw and cheeks and swam around his mouth. The man must have sensed her staring as he looked up at her, glossy ocean blue eyes boring into her soul.

"Hey," he said with an accented nord voice, "you're finally awake." She didn't reply. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

She turned her head to the right and saw another nord man with short, wild brown hair. He scowled at the blonde nord.

"Damn you Stormcloaks." He growled. "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. You there," he directed his gaze to her, "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 blonde nord muttered, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Shut up back there!" An Imperial Soldier called over his shoulder as he drove the carriage.

Ignoring the warning, the horse thief continued to talk. "And what's wrong with him, huh?"

She slowly turned her head to her right to gaze upon a great bear of a nord. He was hunched over and only briefly glanced up to look at the horse thief. She could see that his mouth was gagged with a strip of cloth. He wore a heavy black bear fur cloak.

"Watch your tongue!" The blonde nord exclaimed, in annoyance. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"

The brown haired nord frowned, fear glinting in his dull coloured eyes. "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they'd captured you…oh Gods, where are they taking us?"

The other man closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

"No, this can't be happening!" the thief gasped, beginning to shake slightly. "This isn't happening!"

The blonde suddenly opened his eyes and looked at the shaking man next to him. With soft eyes, he asked, "Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why do you care?" He snapped, trying to keep his voice under control.

"A nord's last thoughts should be of home."

She gazed with admiration at this nord. He talked so proudly of his roots—as would any Stormcloak rebel. But the way he said it, was more gentle and calm than the usual forced battle style they liked to don.

"Rorikstead." He replied. "I'm…I'm from Rorikstead."

Rorikstead…a pang of familiarity sparked in the back of her mind. Suddenly short images flashed before her eyes. A young girl, dressed in the blue-grey and white corseted dress of the farm style, was running in a field filled with stalks of wheat. Her long brown hair was flowing freely in the pollen filled air. The sun bathed her in the soft yellow light of dawn's morning as she laughed, looking over her shoulder. At a little boy about the girl's age, dressed in brown trousers and a soft blue shirt was smiling and running after her. She felt like she knew them.

Just as she felt like she was about to remember, a commanding voice broke the image. "General Tullius, sir. The headsman is waiting."

"Good," an imperial with elaborately decorated red and gold armour replied, "let's get this over with."

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me…" the brown haired nord was now shaking violently, fear was welling in his eyes, and sweat began to form on his neck and brow.

"Look at him," the blonde nord scoffed with hate, "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."

She could feel the carriage slowing in speed until it finally rolled to a complete stop. She heard the fearful man whimper a little.

"Why are we stopping?" He squeaked.

"Why do you think?" the Stormcloak Rebel murmured. "End of the line." She could feel her heart begin to pump faster in her chest. Was this really the end of the line? "Let's go," he continued, "shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us."

As they stood and exited the cart, the scared nord was hyperventilating. "No! Wait! We're not rebels!"

"Face your death with some courage, thief." The rebel replied, coldly.

"You've got to tell them," the thief gripped the man's tunic through bound hands, desperation in his eyes and voice, "we weren't with you! This was a mistake!"

The blonde man growled and shoved him away. The four prisoners stood silently in a line, except for the horse thief, who was muttering incoherent prayers of some sort. They stared at two Imperial Soldiers—one a nord man with neat, short brown hair and Studded Imperial armour, the other a, imperial woman wearing a full set of Imperial Heavy armour. The woman folded her arms.

"Step forward when we call your name." The woman ordered the prisoners.

The man gripped his quill and looked down at the notebook he was holding. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." He watched at Ulfric walked past him and joined a group of other Stormcloaks in binds. "Ralof of Riverwood." The blonde man stepped forward and exchanged harsh glares with the Imperial Soldier before taking his place next to a few of his comrades. "Lokir of Rorikstead…"

Rorikstead…another image flashed before her eyes. A teenage girl tending a field of wheat and cabbages with a hoe. She wore a simple belted tunic dress and her long brown hair is tied back in a long braid down her back with her short side swept fringe tickling the side of her face. She looks up as a teenage boy approaches her. He wears brown and green farm clothes and his orange, shoulder length hair is brushed loosely back with a small braid on either side of his head. He says something. She can't hear as he talks to the girl, his lips are moving, but no words are coming out. The girl smiles and nods and they walk off somewhere. Another image flashed before her eyes. A river. The teenage girl and boy are standing in the shallows with bare feet. The girl holds the bottom of her dress up and the boy has rolled the cuffs of his trousers to his knees. They gaze at the small, silvery fish dancing at their ankles. He suddenly looks at the girl and smiles, before playfully pushing her over into the river. The girl silently gasps and stands, her teeth chattering. She looks angry for a moment, but a grin creeps across her face and she stands, pushing the boy into the water too. They are both soaking wet as they splash each other, laughing. They're so happy…

"No!" The horse thief's shrilling voice smashes the image like glass. "I'm not a rebel!" He shouts. "You can't do this!" Before anyone could properly react, he runs past the Imperial Soldiers and down the cobblestone street.

"Halt!" The Imperial woman screams. "Archers!"

"You're not going to kill me!" The thief calls.

Imperial archers knocked arrows into their bows and took aim. She wanted to shout. She wanted to warn the horse thief. She wanted to stop the archers. She wanted…

A name popped into her head suddenly. Erik. She wanted to say his name, but her lips refused to move.

She watched as the archers let their arrows fly towards the running nord. Three stuck into his back and upper thigh, and as he twisted around to brace himself for the fall, another pierced straight through his left eye. He died with the look of shock on his face along with blood and tears.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The woman dared.

"Wait," the Imperial nord man frowned at his book and then looked up at the prisoner left standing before him. "You there," he gestured to her, "step forward." She did so. "Who are you?"

She could suddenly feel her lips moving and she could feel the vibrations of a voice from her throat, but she could not hear any words. The man looked at her as though she had spoken, though, as he looked at her and replied, "You picked a bad time to come back to Skyrim, kinsman." He then looked at the heavy armoured woman beside him. "Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list…"

"Forget the list," his captain said, "she goes to the block."

The man seemed to hesitate. "By your orders, Captain," he said finally, "I'm sorry." He looked at the prisoner. "At least you'll die here in your homeland. Follow the Captain, prisoner."

She felt her legs move as she followed the Captain and stood amongst the rebel Stormcloaks. She watched as General Tullius walked up to Ulfric Stormcloak.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," he says with disgust, "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 gives a muffled retort behind his gag.

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!"

A sudden noise echoed in the distance. It sounded like metal shredding or a thunderstorm of a nords secret racial power of the Battle Cry.

"What was that?" The Imperial Soldier with the notebook asked.

"It was nothing, carry on," Tullius commanded.

Then, in a flash, she was kneeling. Her head rested on a wooden block. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a chopped head in a basket. Had they already executed someone? How did she suddenly get in this position? She didn't even remember walking here and kneeling. She moved her gaze up and saw the executioner raise his axe high above his head.

Solitude…yet another image flashed before her eyes. It was quick, but she saw it. A man in rags was kneeling in front of a wooden block like she was. Another executioner had raised his axe above his head. As it swung down, she felt herself close her eyes and look away and in the process, she gripped someone's hand, which squeezed securely back.

Erik…

She was snapped back to reality. She heard a loud noise, like the roar of a Sabre Cat mixed with the clapping of thunder and the beating of metal at a forge. She was suddenly flung onto her back. Confused, she struggled into a sitting position. The executioner was lying at her feet, dead. But…how? A huge crash shook the earth itself and she was forced onto her back again. A deep rumble made her look up at the tower that was looming above the courtyard the execution was taking place in. She almost felt her heart stop. Glaring directly at her was a nightmarish creature of legend. A creature that has not been witnessed for thousands of years. A creature that belonged to a forgotten legend, many dismissed at mere fairy tales. A dragon.

Its abyss-black scales rose out of its hide, long, jagged spikes like head pikes jutted out of its jaw and spine. Its teeth poked out of its mouth, dripping with foul, black liquid. And its eyes…its eyes…glowing red like the pits of Oblivion. No irises, no pupils, just complete red. Staring. Glaring. At her. Into her. Into the depths of her soul, slowly crushing it. Sheer fear rose within her and coursed through her veins. Never had she felt such terror. She wanted to run. To hide. To close her eyes. And shut out the world. And the beast. She was paralysed.

Paralysed…another image flashed before her. The smirk of a woman with white face paint. The woman shot a beam of green light out of her hand towards her and she could feel herself fall to the ground.

"The blood of a virgin." The woman said, tilting her head to one side.

She snapped back to reality, but she was in a different place. She wasn't in Helgen. It was black. Pitch black, she couldn't see past the small beam of light that was illuminating on her and only her. She tried to call for help. For somebody. Anybody! But she had no voice.

"Woof! Woof!"

She spun around and saw a dog staring at her. A husky. It was also had illuminating light on it. There was complete blackness between her and the dog. It barked again and then whimpered and backed away. She then realised that it wasn't staring at her, but behind her. Chills ran down her spine as she whirled around. She saw the blonde nord, Ralof. Standing in beam of light like herself and the dog. Relief shot through her as she walked towards him.

"Stay back!" he warned, holding his hand up.

She stopped. She could feel her mouth moving, but again, no words came out.

Ralof had the look of understanding on his face. "Because a nord's last thoughts…" his face suddenly twisted and disorientated, making her want to vomit with disgust and fear. The change then stopped and another face was standing before her. The farm boy from the images. But he looked a little older than a teenager. He now had an orange beard, "should be of home." He finished the sentence as this new face.

Confusion waved over her and she wasn't sure what to believe was real. She stared at the farm boy.

His face suddenly dropped into a glare. "You promised we'd be together always."

She shook her head, not understanding.

"Yes you did!" He shouted as loud as he could, his voice echoing throughout the nothingness. He continued to shout. "You promised me! You! Promised!"

She fell to her knees and covered her ears, shaking her head, sobbing silently. He stopped shouting. She didn't hear him come over to her.

"I love you." She looked up. His voice came from her right, but there was no one there. "I love you." The voice came to her left this time. "I love you. I love you. I love you." The voice circled around her and became progressively louder until…silence.

She opened her eyes.

"Dovahkiin,"

She snapped her head to look behind her. A man in a long grey robe was standing a few metres away from her, with his own light illuminating him. His large grey hood covered most of his face, leaving only a long grey beard to drape over his chest.

"Dovahkiin," She snapped her head to look in front of her. Another grey robed man was standing there.

"Dovahkiin," One to her left.

"Dovahkiin," One to her right.

"You are the Dovahkiin." The one behind her said.

"Dovahkiin," The one in front of her repeated.

"Do-vah-kiin," The one to her left whispered.

"Dovah-kiin," The one to her right said quietly.

The four men repeated these words in that order, the statements getting louder and faster. She shut her eyes and covered her ears again. She felt her voice vibrate and she knew she was screaming. But, of course, she couldn't hear it. The words stopped abruptly and she was alone in the dark again, only the voice of the first robbed man whispered:

"Save us, Dovahkiin. Save them. Save us all. From Him. Find the journal. It is your destiny..."

"You picked a bad time to come back to Skyrim, kinsman."

She raised her head slowly to see the notebook man standing right in front of her, offering a hand to help her up. Quivering, she took it and he helped her to her feet. His grip suddenly tightened and she looked at his face. It was the farm boy. She tried to yank her hand free, but he only gripped it tighter.

"We're in this together, remember?" He said, with an eerily expressionless face. He then looked above them, causing her to turn around and look up.

Unmistakably glowing red eyes appeared high above them. They were getting closer. She wanted to run away, but the farm boy changed his grip so he was holding her arms together from behind. She struggled in vain, but she struggled.

"We're in this together, remember?" He repeated.

The eyes came closer until it was looming only a few feet above them. Then she could see it. Its shape. Even in the darkness, the majesty of the dragon's body stared down at them. She shifted in the boy's grip, and turned to face him. She wanted to tell him to run. She stared into his eyes and he stared back. And for the first time since the came to this place, she felt…safe. Just the look in his eyes, made her feel… protected. Suddenly he let out a short, strained gasp. Blood dripped from his mouth and nose. He looked down at his stomach and she followed his gaze. A giant, black arrow head stuck through it. He looked back at her.

"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I know you don't like being saved." And his lifeless body was pulled roughly back into the blackness and she saw that it wasn't a giant arrow head that had struck him, but the tip of the tail of the dragon. The body of the farm boy hung like a ragdoll at the end of its tail.

She heard short rumbles coming from behind her. It sounded like the dragon was laughing at her. She whipped around and stared the dragon in the eyes, the fear returning to her. And she suddenly couldn't move. The dragon lowered its head to her level.

"End of the line." It rumbled and opened its mouth. Flames rolled out of its throat and hurtled towards her.

And she heard herself scream.

The scream continued as Alinja sat bolt upright.

"Alinja!" Her voice hitched as she heard a someone say her name. She snapped her head to her right. Erik got up from the chair he was sitting in and hurried to the side of the bed. "You're awake!" Strong arms flung around her and held her close to him. "I thought you'd never wake up."

She caught her breath and looked around the room when he released her from the hug. It was familiar. Wooden floors and walls, a cooking pot sitting before a roaring fire. She looked down at what she was sitting on. A straw double bed with bed furs covering her legs.

"Where…am I?" Alinja asked, holding her aching head.

"We're back in Rorikstead," Erik replied, "we're in my house."

"What happened? Why are we in Rorikstead?"

"Don't you remember?" Erik asked. "You were shot with a paralysing spell in Wolfskull Cave. They…" he paused, "they stabbed you…"

Of course. She remembered now. She looked at her clothes. She was dressed in a white nightgown. She lifted the bottom up to reveal her stomach. A soft pink scar was left behind where the necromancer had stuck the iron dagger.

"I took you back to Solitude and to the Temple of the Divines to get healed," Erik continued, "They did the best they could, but told me to take you back here for rest."

"Why couldn't I rest there?" She asked.

"The priest said that he's dealt with many people recovering from near death experiences in relation to paralysing spells." He explained. "He told me that people tend to recover healthier and more quickly when in the comfort of their home town. It seemed to have worked, because we had just arrived in Rorikstead a few hours ago by carriage."

"Carriage?" Alinja remembered the dream. She was in binds. On a carriage. Perhaps her mind linked the journey from Solitude to Rorikstead with the ride to Helgen.

The door to Erik's house suddenly swung open. Mralki walked in with a platter of cheeses, breads and stews. He almost dropped it when he saw that Alinja was awake.

"Alinja!" He exclaimed, placing the platter down on the end table next to the bed. "You're awake already?"

"She was asleep for two days, father!" Erik said.

"Yes, but that priest really spoke the truth, didn't he?" Mralki replied, not taking his awed eyes off of Alinja. "I was so worried about you. About both of you."

The door was pushed open again, but no human came through. Meeko pushed his head though and barked.

"Come on, boy." Erik called. "She's awake now."

Meeko barked again and ran to the other side of the double bed and leaped onto it, licking Alinja's face non-stop.

"Hey!" She spat, laughing. "Stop it! Gross!" She managed to hold the big husky in her arms and hugged him. "I'm okay now, thanks to you…and Erik of course." She flashed a smile at him and he returned one to her.

"I was surprised when you came home with this mutt." Mralki said lightly. His expression slowly fell, however. He stared at Alinja and Erik and a glint of anger sparked in his eyes. "I told you two it was a dangerous world out there,"

Erik sighed and rolled his eyes and Alinja kept her gaze on Meeko, both of them braced themselves for another one of Mralki's lectures about the dangers of the world.

"I told you that you weren't ready to face the dangers of the world," Mralki continued, "and now look what's happened. Erik, you broke your ribs, falling off that building, and would have died if that mage hadn't frozen you solid. And Alinja almost did die as a damn sacrifice to Queen Potema. Not just any old ancient witch, the Wolf Queen herself!" Mralki put his hands on his hips and scowled. "I don't want either of you to leave this town until I deem you ready. Understand me?"

Erik rose to his feet. "But Father, you can't keep telling us what to do. We have both seen our twentieth summer. We can take care of ourselves."

"Oh can you, now?" Mralki retorted. "And what do you call this?" He gestured at Alinja. "You call that taking care of yourselves?"

"Mralki," Alinja finally piped up, "it was my fault. I was the one who—"

"No," Mralki interrupted, "you are both staying in this town and that's final." With that he walked out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

Erik grumbled and placed his hands on his head, running his fingers though his hair. He sat down in the chair next to the bed and sighed, defeated.

"Erik…" Alinja said quietly. He looked up. "I'm sorry. I was selfish and…"

"Hush," He said quietly, sitting on the bed next to her. He draped an arm around her shoulders and rested his head on hers. Meeko stretched and jumped off the bed and made himself comfortable by the fire. "Just worry about getting better."

Alinja wrapped her arms around his waist. She thought about telling him about the nightmare she had, but decided not to. He had enough to worry about.

"Hey," Erik whispered, "how are you feeling right now? Can you walk?"

She raised her head to meet his gaze. "Yeah, I think so." Erik got up and she swung her legs off the side of the bed. He helped her to her feet.

Meeko raised his head with curiosity. "Stay here, boy," Erik told him, "we'll be back."

Erik helped Alinja out of the house. It was dusk and the sky was dyed a deep orange with light purple clouds sweeping across it.

"Where are we going?" She asked him as he lead her around the back of his house.

"Up here." He replied. He reached up and pulled a ladder down from inside the straw roof. "Come on."

They climbed onto the roof and sat on the secure wood plank that marked the skeleton of the roof. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, observing the setting sun.

"I'm glad you woke up." Erik said finally, breaking the silence. "I…I don't know what I'd do with my life if you—"

"Erik," Alinja cut in, gently taking his hand in hers, "stop worrying. I'm here now, alive and well."

"I know." Erik's voice had lowered to almost a whisper.

He caught her gaze suddenly and she couldn't look away…or more like she didn't want to look away. And then they were slowly moving towards each other. Their faces just inches away. Alinja opened her mouth slightly. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her lips. And…ever so softly, as if he was afraid he would shatter her like a glass flower, he touched his lips to hers. Pulling away afterwards, he smiled at her and she returned it, snuggling into his arms, they watched the sun set fully before climbing back down the ladder and into the warmth of the house.

**Dedicated to, Stormblade3. Thanks for the review!**