15th of Last Seed, 4E 201
Leave it to me to get completely lost without Serana, Valkyrie thought to herself. The last three days, despite her own attempts to find her way to Ustengrav, the Dragonborn found herself hopelessly without direction, her vampire had always been the navigator on their journeys. The long, seemingly endless road ahead of her, the sky a gorgeous hue of violet and orange from the sunset, and the rumbling of the Nord's stomach from nearly a day with no food only made her long to be back in Serana's company as soon as possible. She could only imagine what the vampire was getting up to with her mother, but it was likely for the best that both Valkyrie and Serana had split up for it.
Still riding atop Ivory, Valkyrie came to a sign next to the road, the path ahead leading into a forest. Falkreath Hold, it read. The Nord scoffed at herself. Falkreath was all the way at the southernmost region of Skyrim, Ustengrav located much further north in the Hold of Hjaalmarch. She had truly managed to get herself so lost as to be nearly on the opposite end of the province, nearly another week's ride from where she was supposed to be. Well, she considered. I'm here. Might as well find somewhere to stop for the night. Get some food in me.
She continued to examine the sign, underneath the announcing of the Hold, were two secondary markings. The first read, City of Falkreath, 53 miles. Valkyrie groaned at the thought of riding that far on an empty stomach. Underneath, however, was another marking which read, Helgen, 5 miles. The Nord then smiled. "Well," she said out loud. "Looks like Helgen it is." She ran a hand over the back of Ivory's neck. "How about it, girl? Want to make a stop in town? Get you some hay and a nice bath?" The noble beast simply snorted. Valkyrie nodded her head, giving a crack to the horse's reigns.
Roughly an hour passed, Valkyrie's ride completely silent without banter from Serana, her only company the horse underneath her, which coincidentally enough wasn't much for conversation. The growling of the Nord's stomach continued to grow more rabid, which made her all the more relieved when Helgen finally came into view. But this particular town was not like the hobbles and villages that littered the province. The town was protected by a great stone wall which denied any and all view of the settlement. The only thing visible beyond the wall was a great watchtower that dwarfed all else. The road which Valkyrie and her horse strode upon led to a wooden gate etched into the stone, guarded at its entrance by two men.
In the ever growing darkness of twilight, Valkyrie could only just barely make out the both of them, each clad in red and brown leather. "Imperial soldiers," the Dragonborn muttered to herself. "Interesting." As she continued to approach, the two guards each drew their blades, as though ready to kill anyone who dare try to enter the village.
"Halt! In the name of the Emperor!" One of the men yelled, his voice deep and booming, and his accent giving away that he was clearly not from Skyrim. The two soldiers inched forward, causing Ivory to spook from underneath Valkyrie, the horse growing restless, refusing to stay still.
"Whoa!" Valkyrie attempted to calm the beast. "Easy, girl! It's alright!" Eventually, the Nord finally managed to calm her horse, but the soldiers were still armed, staring her down as though she were going to attack them at any moment. "Apologies for my horse," Valkyrie said after a moment, her tone slightly annoyed. "She tends to get skittish when people draw their weapons around her."
The two men quickly exchanged glances with one another, before grumbling and sheathing their swords. One of the men, the larger of the two, held up his hand and summoned a small fire in his palm, revealing his, as well as his partner's face. Both had relatively dark skin, clearly of Cyrodiilic descent, and both were soldiers of the Imperial Legion. "What's your business riding through here?" One of the soldiers asked rather sternly.
"I was supposed to be on my way to Hjaalmarch, but I got lost. As you can tell," Valkyrie snarked at the man. "I've been riding for three days and I'm tired."
"Well, you'll have to keep riding," the smaller soldier said, crossing his arms. "Town's closed."
"What?" The Nord was bewildered. "Why?"
"Because General Tulius demanded it so!" The mage soldier barked back at her.
"Who in Oblivion is General Tulius?" Valkyrie asked.
Both men looked at the Nord as though she were an idiot child, then proceeded to look at each other. "Good Gods," the smaller soldier laughed. "You Nord savages don't even know the names of your protectors!"
The Dragonborn's jaw twitched. It would be so easy to Shout her way past these two irritating men, force her way into town. But then, Arngeir likely wouldn't have approved of her misuse of the Voice, and more importantly, neither would Serana. Valkyrie simply groaned. "Listen," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I've been away from Skyrim for a while. Call it a... pilgrimage, I guess." She shrugged. "I'll forgive that savage remark if you bring me up to speed on current events."
"Oh, for the love of Mara!" the larger soldier scoffed. "Fine, if it'll get you out of our hair. Does the name Ulfric Stormcloak mean anything to you?"
Valkyrie racked her brain for a moment, the name ringing a distant bell. "I feel like I've heard it before," she said. "Not sure where, though. Who is he?"
"Jarl of Eastmarch," the smaller soldier said. "Rules the city of Windhelm. Or at least he did until recently. Because a few months ago, he marched into the Blue Palace in Solitude and murdered High King Torygg, in front of his wife and his court!"
The Nord's eyes widened. "Shit," she said.
"Shit, indeed," the man continued. "Crazy regicidal bastard wants Skyrim to secede from the Empire. All over the ban on Talos worship in the White Gold Concordat."
"The White Gold Concordat," Valkyrie recalled one of Ghorza's lessons from her childhood. "The peace treaty the Empire signed with the Thalmor? After the Great War?"
"That's the one," the mage spoke up. "Ulfric thinks the Empire turned its back on the Nord people, and so he wants to tear Skyrim away from us, and put himself on the High King's throne."
"So what does that have to do with the town being closed?" The Dragonborn asked.
"We captured him," the smaller soldier smiled widely. "And we plan to execute the sorry son of a bitch, as well as a few dozen of his followers in the morn."
"So," the larger soldier finally extinguished his fire, his hand now moving back to the hilt of his sword. "No strangers, no outsiders. Not until the execution is done tomorrow." He turned his head to spit at the ground. "Now, on your way, citizen."
Valkyrie reluctantly complied with the man, pulling at Ivory's reigns to set her back on the road in the opposite direction. As annoyed as she was at the two impudent soldiers denying her food and rest in the village, their tale seemed to stick in the Nord's mind. The High King had been murdered by a usurper? It was almost impossible to believe some madman could be so foolish as to think that he and a few dozen vagabonds could take on the entire Empire and secede from it so easily. Valkyrie quickly put the thought out of her mind, as political assassinations weren't going to help her find a place to rest for the night.
She could have possibly gone back to the forest, hunted for her food and made a nice fire to sleep next to. But then, there hadn't appeared to be many traces of game in the woods, and even if she had found a suitable meal for herself, it would have left her dear Ivory hungry and filthy still. Valkyrie turned to look back at the village gate, the two soldiers out front already seeming to forget she existed. She groaned, "Fuck it," and quickly turned her horse around, riding off to the side of the town's wall, while giving the soldiers a wide berth.
Valkyrie and Ivory circled around the wall for a bit, before stumbling around a corner into what looked like the village stables. A large barn, and inside several horses of various colors and breeds, and much to the Nord's luck, no stable master in sight. She breathed a sigh of relief, dismounting from Ivory, and leading the horse by the reigns to an empty stall in the back corner. "Don't worry, girl," Valkyrie said. "I'll be back for you in the morning. They'll feed you and bathe you while I'm gone." As the gate of the stall closed, Ivory let out a snort of approval, and the Dragonborn reached out to pet the mare's neck one last time before parting.
She peeked out of the barn, her surroundings mostly quiet, except for a faint light coming from around the corner of the village wall. Valkyrie guessed that it must have been another entrance, this one guarded by Imperial soldiers as well. There was no getting in the conventional way, not unless she wanted to be chased and hunted by the Legion and have a bounty on her head. So the Nord stepped out and went the opposite way, stepping as lightly as she could.
She followed along the wall for a bit, clinging as closely to the stone as she could, so as not to alert any soldiers who may have been walking the ramparts. Valkyrie analyzed every inch of the wall, at least all that she could see in the dark of night, looking for anything that could allow her to slip through or climb over unnoticed. Alas, there was no such luck, as she soon found herself back around at the other gate, with the two men who had hassled her earlier.
Damn it, Valkyrie thought, not even daring to peek around the corner. Helgen was a gods damned fortress, no way in or out without being spotted. Unless, the Dragonborn donned a clever smirk as an idea came to her. It seemed she would be using the Voice to force her way in after all, though not in the dramatic and bombastic manner she had imagined earlier. She knelt down at the corner of the wall, just barely hearing the two soldiers chatter on about whatever nonsense they were talking about. Valkyrie took a deep breath, and released her Voice, though not a Shout this time, but a whisper.
"Zul Mey Gut..."
The essence of her Thu'um traveled far away from Valkyrie, far off into the distance, until Valkyrie's voice manifested itself from somewhere in the forest. "Hey, assholes! Death to the Empire!"
This was enough to get the soldiers' attention, both of them drawing their blades and rushing towards the sound with reckless abandon, leaving the gate completely unguarded. Valkyrie moved quickly, slipping around the corner and simply stepping through the gate. Much to her luck, the other side of the entrance had no soldiers guarding it. As the Dragonborn reached the inside of Helgen, she noticed it seemed quite busy for this time of night. The watchtower was the only building actually made of stone, the rest were standard huts made of wood and moss that one would have seen in any other settlement in Skyrim, yet the townsfolk bustled about from one hut to another. Luckily for Valkyrie, this made it quite easy to slip into town unnoticed.
She walked for a bit, doing her best not to bump into anyone or attract any attention, until she spotted the one building larger than any other, besides the tower. The tavern was unmistakable, and Valkyrie made a beeline for it.
Valkyrie stepped inside the inn, her senses immediately welcoming the sensastions, the smell of freshly brewed stew and cheap ale, the sounds of the patrons drinking and reveling, and the warmth from the fire pit that stood in the center of the place. Finally, perhaps now she could get some food and rest. The Nord stepped over to the bar, pulling up a stool. "I don't know what you have cooking," she said to the inkeep, who immediately looked up from the glass he was polishing and eyed her suspiciously. "But it smells amazing. How much for a bowl and a bottle of mead?"
The man narrowed his eyes at her, a look Valkyrie took exception to, but decided to leave it be at the risk of alerting the Imperials. "Seven septims," the man said lowly, and Valkyrie gladly complied setting a few coins on the counter while the barkeep fetched her an empty bowl and a bottle. "Ain't seen you around here before," the barkeep said as he pocketed the Nord's coin.
"I'm just passing through," Valkyrie replied as she uncorked the mead, taking a sizable swig.
"Uh huh. About that," The man leaned in closer. "From what I understand, the town's been closed off to travelers till after the execution. So I suspect you might have snuck in."
The Dragonborn slammed her drink down on the counter, doing her damnedest to stare directly into the barkeep's soul. "What's it matter?" She asked quietly, but with a trace of venom in her voice. "My coin is good and I'm not here to cause any trouble."
"That's what they all say," the inkeep shot back. "You a fucking Stormcloak?"
Valkyrie raised her eyebrow. "I don't know what that is, so no, I'm not." She took another drink. "Do you always harass your patrons like this?"
"Only the suspicious ones."
"Well your suspicion is unfounded," she stood up from the stool and grabbed the bowl. "After tonight you'll never see me again. Which reminds me, how much for a room?"
"Rate's double for visitors tonight," the inkeep sneered. "Twenty septims."
"You've got to be kidding me," Valkyrie groaned as she reached into her satchel. Her stomach proceeded to sink, as it turned out exactly twenty septims were all she had left. The Nord sighed, usually it had been Serana who paid for everything, having stolen a considerable amount of gold and valuables from her family's castle. With a sigh of frustration, she slapped the handful of coins down on the counter. "Fine," she said. "Not like I really have a choice."
The inkeep seemed quite pleased with himself, offering a gracious bow of his head to Valkyrie, who only rolled her eyes in return as she stepped away to the fire pit, above which a sizable pot of stew sat in the heat. Valkyrie wasted no time filling her bowl and downing the piping hot stew faster than she thought herself capable of. The Nord had clearly been more hungry than she thought. Although her hunger was now satisfied, the Dragonborn couldn't help but fixate her mind on that insufferable barkeep, extorting her for coin like that. She had half a mind to find the man and beat him into unconsciousness, but that particular course of action wouldn't have exactly kept with her intentions of laying low.
She looked back over to the bar to see that the man was now gone, likely stepped outside for a piss or to fetch some more ale. Valkyrie took the golden opportunity to sit back down and nurse the rest of her mead. This was her intention, but the Nord only got a few quick gulps in before the doors to the tavern slammed open, and six or seven Imperial soldiers rushed in, weapons brandished. The few tavern patrons left panicked, practically attaching themselves to the walls, and Valkyrie instinctively drew her own blade, ready to defend herself if need be. One of the soldiers, a woman, was clad in plate armor rather than leather, indicating her the leader of this particular band. And of course, in walked the inkeeper right behind her, a smug grin on his face that enraged Valkyrie.
"Is that her?" The Imperial captain demanded of the man.
"That's her, ma'am!" The inkeep exclaimed. "That's the Stormcloak spy!"
"You son of a bitch!" Valkyrie yelled from across the room as the subordinate soldiers moved to surround her. "I told you, I'm not a Stormcloak!"
"Of course," the captain replied sarcastically. "I'm sure you have a perfectly logical reason to sneak into a locked down military compound, where we just so happen to be executing an enemy of the Empire."
The Dragonborn prepared a biting, witty retort, but instead decided against it. These weren't outlaws or isolated vampires she was dealing with, these were Imperial soldiers, upholding the law as they saw fit, and fighting back would only land her in more trouble. Valkyrie breathed deeply. "Alright," she said. "I'm going to put my sword away now. I'm sure we can work through this... unfortunate misunderstanding." She slowly brought the blade into its sheath, and the soldiers appeared to relax, if only slightly. The captain offered Valkyrie a smile, and nodded her head in approval. It was only just a moment too late that the Nord realized the woman wasn't motioning to her, but behind her.
Something blunt hit the side of Valkyrie's head, and did so hard. She fell to the ground, her vision dazed and blurry. She tried to get back up, but a foot pressed into her back and forced her down to the floor yet again. Valkyrie couldn't even struggle, she was so disoriented, and only began coming to when the feeling of cold iron on her wrists made itself known. "No!" She protested weakly, unable to move her arms. "I swear, I'm not a fucking Stormcloak!"
She was then rolled over onto her back. Above her stood one of the soldiers at the gate, a mace in his hand with blood on the side. Her blood. The Legionaire laughed to himself before raising up his foot. "Nighty night, bitch." Valkyrie couldn't even utter a word before the solider slammed his foot into her face and her world went dark.
17th of Last Seed, 4E 201
Valkyrie's head pounded and ached like it hadn't in years. Between questioning where exactly she was or what had happened the night before, the young Nord almost didn't notice that she had been chained to a wall in a rather large prison cell, with at least a dozen of her kinsmen as her cell mates. She moaned, the dull pain in the back of her skull unbearably irritating, and tried to wriggle her wrists out of their iron shackles. It was no use, her captors had made damned sure she and her fellow prisoners weren't going anywhere. Or so she thought, as suddenly the clanking of another's manacles alerted her. Valkyrie turned her head to the side, as far as she could with her limited mobility, to see two more Nords, both older men, and both looking like they had seen better days.
One of the men, his hair short and brown, dirt covering his face, appeared to be fiddling with his shackles. "Alright," he said to the Nord next to him, this one with lengthy blonde hair, and built like a tree trunk. "I think I've almost got them off."
"Good," the larger Nord said. "Hurry. We don't have much time before the execution starts. I plan to be long gone before they get the chance to lop my head off."
"You and me both, Ralof," the unnamed Nord said as he continued to work. The mens' conversation had helped wondrously to kickstart Valkyrie's memory. Sneaking into Helgen, the inkeeper extorting her for money, and her subsequent arrest and beat down from the town's Legionaires. She rested her head back against the wall, letting out a growl of anger and frustration. A few days without Serana, and here she was chained to the wall of an Imperial dungeon, about to be executed alongside a band of king killers?
The Nord named Ralof immediately took notice of Valkyrie's audible frustration. "Hey, you!" He said to her, scooting across the floor as far as he could, still tied to the wall. "You're finally awake. Those Imperials really did a number on you."
"Yeah, it feels like they did," Valkyrie groaned. "How long was I out?"
"If you want to be precise," Ralof said. "Just a few hours. But you've been in and out of consciousness for close to two days now. We kept thinking you weren't going to wake back up."
"Shit," the Dragonborn snarled. "I have to get out of here."
"Well," the unnamed Nord said as his manacles at last fell off his wrist. "In that case, all you have to do is sit tight." He quickly moved his hands to Ralof's wrists, now working on releasing his friend's shackles. "Just a minute or two and I should have these off."
"Good," the blonde Nord breathed a sigh of relief, before turning back to Valkyrie. "They said you were one of us when they threw you in here, but I don't recognize you." He raised an eyebrow. "Are you one of us?"
"One of you?" Valkyrie asked, before realization hit her. "You mean a Stormcloak?" Ralof nodded. "No. My only crime was being tired and hungry in the wrong town. But the soldiers sure seemed to think I was a spy." The brown haired Nord working the shackles appeared to get a decent chuckle from that, so Valkyrie turned her attention to him. "What about you? Are you a Stormcloak... uh..." She paused. "I didn't get your name."
"Name's Lokir," the man said, still focusing on the iron binds. "And no, I'm not a rebel. Like you, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. If I'm being honest, Skyrim was fine until these Stormcloaks came along. Empire was nice and lazy." He shook his head, only slightly directed at Ralof, who simply rolled his eyes. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now."
"Well, you don't seem too fond of the Stormcloaks," Valkyrie questioned him. "So why help one escape with you?" Lokir simply shrugged.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now," Ralof said. "Even if the thief here escaped by himself, he probably wouldn't last long on his own."
It was then that one of their fellow prisoners, a female Nord, angrily whispered at them, "Quiet! Here comes the guard!" Almost instantly upon hearing this, Lokir repositioned himself back against the wall, trying to give the appearance that he was still bound. Through the bars of the cell, Valkyrie saw several Imperial soldiers very slowly escorting another prisoner past them. Each Imperial had a blade trained on this prisoner, clearly seen as a much larger threat, as opposed to herself and her esteemed cellmates.
The prisoner being escorted, much like Valkyrie and her fellow Nords, was dressed in decrepit rags. The difference was that this man's head was covered with a metal helmet, no holes carved out for the eyes or mouth, his hands were bound to his neck by a steel collar, and his ankles were also limited to close proximity to each other by even more steel bindings. It was clear that this man was dangerous, whoever he was. It seemed then that Valkyrie wasn't the only one wondering exactly who this prisoner was, as Lokir turned to ask Ralof, "Who in Oblivion is that?"
Ralof looked irritated that he even had to answer the question. "That's Ulfric Stormcloak, boy!"
"Leader of the Stormcloaks?" Lokir asked in disbelief.
"True High King of Skyrim, and heir to the Empire of Tamriel!" The blonde Nord exclaimed proudly.
It was now that Valkyrie had some questions of her own. Heir to the Empire? What on Nirn had Ralof been smoking to get such delusions? "Uh, Ralof?" Valkyrie asked her fellow prisoner. "He doesn't look much like an Imperial to me."
Ralof scoffed. "Not that Empire. They say Ulfric has the dragon blood in his veins, like the Dragonborn Emperors of old." This got Valkyrie's attention very quickly. This man claimed to have Dragon Blood? Like the Dragonborn Emperors? Last time I checked, I was the Dragonborn, Valkyrie thought to herself. Arngeir would have some explaining to do the next time she saw him, but not before she was able to question Ulfric himself.
It was now Lokir's turn to scoff. "Come on, Ralof. Everyone knows the Septims were all wiped out during the Oblivion Crisis."
"Uriel Septim's line was, yes," Ralof shot back. "But Tiber Septim used to be Talos of Atmora, and spawned several bloodlines over the course of centuries. Ulfric is the last living descendant of old Tiber Septim himself."
Valkyrie had so many questions buzzing about in her head. A lost heir to the Septim dynasty? If such were the case, why hadn't anyone spoken up about it until now, two hundred years later? But it seemed her questions would have to wait until later, as soon as Ulfric and his Imperial escort were out of sight, another group of soldiers, about three of them, followed up from behind. One of them unlocked the door to the cell, a smug grin on his face as he stepped inside, clearly taking pleasure in lording over the prisoners.
"Well, boys and girls," he said proudly. "This is it. End of the road. Whatever Gods you may acknowledge, now is the time to start praying." He quickly moved to the prisoner closest to him, which unfortunately happened to be Lokir. The soldier grabbed the Nord by the scruff of his shirt and pulled him to his feet, inadvertently revealing he had broken his binds. Lokir didn't even have a chance to explain before the Imperial grabbed him by the forehead, and quickly, viciously slammed it against the wall.
Lokir slid back down the wall, a trail of blood staining the stone behind him, clearly dead. Valkyrie was horrified. All her childhood, Ghorza and Moth had taught her that the Empire protected Skyrim and its people, that Legionaires were noble warriors who would never harm the innocent. This was apparently the only example she had of their gentle, protective nature. "Now then," the soldier turned to Ralof. "You plan on trying to escape as well?" Ralof said nothing in response, and the soldier seemed satisfied. He grabbed the blonde brute by the arm and forced him upward, by extension forcing Valkyrie to her feet as she was the next prisoner in line, her shackles connected to his.
It was then that the Dragonborn began to panic, fear and realization sinking in quickly. Fuck, I'm actually going to die.
The soldier led the dozen or so prisoners out of their shared cell, up several flights of stairs, and through a winding maze of corridors. Valkyrie didn't care, every wall, every door, every soldier sneering at her as she passed all looked the same. She didn't want to die. Dear Gods, she didn't want to die. It was a fear that the Nord hadn't felt in years, since witnessing her family being slaughtered by vampires. But at last the Dragonborn snapped herself out of it. What was she so afraid of? If there appeared no other way of escaping, she would have no choice but to Shout her way out of Helgen.
The line of prisoners at last reached the outside, the sting of the morning sun almost blinding Valkyrie, having been kept in a dark and damp cell for Gods knew how long. She and the Stormcloak soldiers were led from the keep below the watchtower through the main road of the village, where townsfolk jeered, taunted, and hissed at them with every step. Some even took to throwing rotten food, rocks, or even spitting on them as they passed. One particular gob of spit happened to hit Valkyrie right in the cheek, and she quickly turned her head to see it had come from the inkeep from the other night, still as smug as ever. She glared at him furiously. Oh, I hope you stand in my way when I get out of here, she thought to herself. You son of a whore.
Eventually, the line of prisoners was brought to a halt next to the opposite end of the tower, where several more Imperial soldiers waited, including the captain who had ambushed Valkyrie, a masked headsman already sharpening his axe, and standing dead center was a much older man of Cyrodiilic descent, his plate armor much more lavish and decorated than his fellow Imperials. Perhaps this was the General Tulius the guard at the gate had spoken of?
One of the soldiers walked behind the line of prisoners, releasing their binds to each other, but still keeping the manacles around their wrists. Of course, Valkyrie thought. Can't make this too easy. Her eyes quickly darted around her surroundings, looking for anything at all that could be used to escape. So far, the only weapons in sight were those belonging to the Legionaires, and the headsman's axe. The Imperial captain stepped forward now, bellowing out to the prisoners, "Step forward when your name is called! One at a time!"
Another soldier beside her, this one also a Nord, brandished a quill and paper, clearing his throat. "Ulfric Stormcloak!" He said with authority. "Jarl of Eastmarch!" From the very ends of her line of vision, Valkyrie spotted the man in the iron helmet, very slowly being brought forward by no less than three soldiers. He was stopped just in front of the headsman's block, and one of the soldiers proceeded to remove his helm. Ulfric Stormcloak's face was, much like his fellow prisoners, covered with dirt, soot, and also scars, ones that indicated years of battle. Like Ralof, his hair was long and blonde, reaching down well past his jawline. The most interesting detail, however, was that he was gagged.
Hmm... he claims to have Dragon Blood, Valkyrie pondered. Maybe he knows how to Shout? And that's why they bound his mouth?
Her questions were not to be answered just yet, as the older Imperial stepped in front of Ulfric now, nearly a full head shorter than the Nord, but with no fear shown. "Ulfric Stormcloak," the General addressed him loudly, likely the makings of a speech. "Many in Skyrim believe you to be a hero, a boon sent by the Gods to free them from their responsibilities as citizens of the Empire!" He now turned to the townspeople who had gathered to watch. "But ask yourselves this, would a hero use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne?"
"No!" The villagers answered in unison.
"Would a hero start a war he can't possibly win?" Tulius continued. "Plunge an entire province into chaos and send hundreds of men and women to their deaths?"
"No!"
"And would a hero hide behind the lives of his followers when he is captured?" The General now turned back to Ulfric, whose eyes showed ever more rage and disdain with each passing word. "Instead of fighting to his honorable death like a true warrior?"
"No!"
Tulius smirked. "You claim to be a lost heir to the Septim dynasty, but what proof do you have?" He turned away from the Jarl, now eyeing the headsman's block. "Your supposed ancestry is just another lie you have told the people of Skyrim to get what you want." He shook his head. "You are no hero, Ulfric. You are a madman with a lust for power who cares nothing for the innocent lives that are destroyed in his path. And here today, the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"
With this, the crowd of townspeople cheered raucously, clearly eager to see the sight of heads rolling. Valkyrie not so much, as all through the Imperial general's speech, she had been searching for a means of escape, and thus far had found none. "You will watch your precious followers die lose their heads underneath the axe," Tulius continued to Ulfric. "And then, finally, it will be your turn." The general then whistled, and a horse came from seemingly out of nowhere, trotting up alongside him. Tulius quickly mounted up, before speaking then to the captain.
"Bring his head to Solitude when you're done."
With this final command, Tulius cracked the reigns of his mount and rode off, down the main road of the village to the outer gate. The Nord with the list then continued calling names. "Halbjorn of Windhelm!" This went on for some time, as Stormcloak after Stormcloak stepped up to the headsman's block, ready to face their deaths with courage, and each one promptly losing their heads. Each time someone's head was removed from their shoulders, the townsfolk cheered, hollered, and whooped like they were witnessing a grand occasion.
After several soldiers had been executed, Valkyrie's apprehension began to return. They were getting closer and closer to her, and still she saw no means of escape. Fighting her way out while bound, armed only with the Thu'um didn't look all that promising. At last, the big Nord with the list turned to face her, and instead of calling her name, he quickly marched forward, staring her directly in the eyes.
"What is your name, prisoner?"
"Valkyrie of Karthwasten," she answered. "And I'm not a Stormcloak, no matter what that bastard at the inn might have told you."
"It's true," Ralof interjected from beside her. "She's not one of us."
"Shut up, Ralof!" The Imperial Nord barked at his blonde kinsmen, indicating the two clearly knew each other. He turned back to Valkyrie. "Your name isn't on the list. How exactly did you wind up in a prison cell with Ulfric Stormcloak's personal guard?"
Valkyrie sighed. "I admit, I snuck into town last night. I was tired and hungry and I didn't feel like riding even further."
"You said you're from Karthwasten?" The soldier asked her. "Was this before or after the town was rebuilt a few years ago?"
"I didn't even know it had been rebuilt," the Dragonborn shrugged. "So before, I guess. I was the only survivor when it was massacred back in 188. Managed to make my way to Markarth after, and the Jarl's blacksmith took me in."
"Hmm," The Imperial Nord scratched his chin. "So let me get this straight. You are not a rebel, and also claim to be a loyal subject of Jarl Igmund, who has publicly declared his support for the Empire."
"Yes," Valkyrie said, slightly annoyed that she had to keep explaining herself.
"Well, then it seems today is your lucky day," The soldier put away his list. "Men!" He shouted to a few of the other Legionaires. "Take her back to the holding cells." He then faced Valkyrie once more. "You'll be our... guest until we can contact Igmund. If he vouches for you, you'll be free to go. You'll also receive adequate compensation for your trouble."
"And if he doesn't?" The Dragonborn asked, the possibility only now crossing her mind.
"Then I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do," The soldier bowed his head.
"Always knew you were a heartless bastard, Hadvar," Ralof sighed, only for the one named Hadvar to deliver a vicious blow to his gut, forcing Ralof to his knees. Valkyrie almost felt sorry for the poor Stormcloak, but was ultimately distracted a moment later, by a sound that seemed to come directly from the sky. And it seemed she wasn't the only one to notice, as each and every villager, Imperial, and the remaining Stormcloaks all looked upward. Valkyrie had no idea what exactly the noise was, but felt in the pit of her gut that it meant trouble.
When the initial shock of the noise had subsided, the Imperial captain marched over to Hadvar, looking rather enraged that he had demanded Valkyrie be spared. "What are you doing, soldier?" She demanded. "This woman is clearly a Stormcloak spy!"
"I'm following General Tulius' orders, captain," Hadvar barked back at her. "We're supposed to be establishing a line of communication with Whiterun. If we executed an innocent person without investigating, how do you think Jarl Balgruuf would react?"
"I am in charge of this execution!" The captain yelled.
"But I outrank you, and thus I am overruling you," Hadvar put the captain in her place, a very welcome sight for Valkyrie, who was already growing to hate this captain almost as much as the inkeeper. "If she isn't who she claims to be, I'll take responsibility. But for now," he then faced his subordinate soldiers, nodding to them.
One of the Imperials grabbed Valkyrie by the arm, yet before he could lead her away to the cells, the strange noise from the sky sounded out again, this time seeming much louder and much closer. It also sounded decidedly more monstrous, like the roar of a great beast. Valkyrie's eyes widened as she considered the possibility. No, it was impossible, the creatures had been extinct for centuries. There was no way that a-
The roar came again, still even closer, and before Valkyrie had any time to continue doubting, a dragon flew over the horizon, landing square on top of the tower, its sheer mass shaking the entire structure, as well as the ground below it. For the briefest of moments, all was silent, the soldiers, rebels, and villagers awestruck by the majesty of this creature. Then the dragon Shouted,
"STRUN BAH QO!"
Within an instant, the sun disappeared behind black clouds, and heavy, pounding rain poured down from them. Lightning began striking the ground with alarming prejudice, and as a result, there was panic. The headsman and soldiers abandoned the execution entirely, the townsfolk tried to flee the dragon's wrath. There were so many bodies rushing around, looking for a way to escape, that Valkyrie could barely move, every other second being jostled around by a terrified villager. Oddly enough, the Dragonborn felt less terrified now than when she was sure of her execution. She had defeated a dragon before, she could do it again. All she needed was her gear.
At last, the dragon flapped its wings, rising up from the tower, just before a deafening crack of lightning struck it, and the structure proceeded to tip over. In Valkyrie's direction. The Nord quickly turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could to avoid being crushed by the watchtower, and just barely managed to be clear before the entire thing hit the ground. The impact was so great, however, that it still knocked Valkyrie to the ground, dazing her and blurring her vision. For a moment, nothing made sense, then suddenly, Ralof was there, still bound, and shaking her with his foot.
"Come on, kinsman!" The rebel soldier yelled. "The Gods won't give us another chance!"
Valkyrie understood. Luckily, the impact of the tower had somehow broken her manacles, she now had free mobility, and so she and Ralof sprinted away from the wreckage, into the keep where they had been held prisoner. Valkyrie barred the doors behind them, now noticing that she and Ralof were not alone. Ulfric Stormcloak himself was here, still bound and still gagged. Valkyrie wanted nothing more than to question the man about his supposed Dragon Blood, but reasoned that escaping the dragon's wrath would be a more worthy cause at the moment. "Hey!" Ralof said to Valkyrie. "Grab that axe on the wall there!"
The Dragonborn complied immediately, and when Ralof turned away from her, proceeded to chop through the chains that held his shackles together. She then thought it only fair to do the same with Ulfric. When the Jarl of Eastmarch's hands were finally free, he proceeded to ungag himself, and placed a hand on Valkyrie's shoulder. "I thank you, sister," he said lowly. "May the Gods preserve you." Ulfric Stormcloak then snatched the axe from Valkyrie's hand, and proceeded to kick the doors open, rushing outside to meet the dragon.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Valkyrie yelled back at him, before being taken back by Ralof.
"Don't worry about him," the rebel said. "Ulfric knows what he's doing. He'll catch up with us."
The Dragonborn had sincere doubts that this man could go toe to toe with a dragon. She had defeated one, true, but only after having her strength amplified by vampiric blood, and with the help of two other powerful vampires at her side. But rather than follow Ulfric outside to her possible demise, she spun right around and followed Ralof further into the keep. The Stormcloak rebel swore up and down there was a hidden passage leading to the outside of town somewhere, that he had spied it while being taken to the cells. Valkyrie hoped for his sake that he was right, because even the inside of the fortress continued to shake from the dragon's rampage, every so often a wall would collapse or a chunk of the ceiling would cave in. Time was running out.
Ralof led Valkyrie through a winding maze of hallways and tunnels, each one surprisingly lacking in Imperial soldiers, though the Dragonborn guessed they were likely busy being slaughtered outside. In truth, it didn't matter much to her. They had arrested her on false pretenses, killed an innocent man right in front of her, and then tried to send her to the chopping block to be executed. Eventually, the pair of them reached a staircase, one that seemed to lead upwards, onto the ramparts of the outer wall. Valkyrie and Ralof rushed upwards, and upon reaching the top, came into a hallway with a massive chunk of wall missing, likely destroyed by the dragon, but giving them a view to the outside.
All of Helgen was burning, corpses lined the road from top to bottom, Imperials, Stormcloaks, and civilians alike had fallen prey to this beast. Amidst the fire, ruin, and death, however, Valkyrie spied one singular survivor on the opposite end of the village. None other than Ulfric himself, actually holding his own against the monster. Valkyrie was already impressed, her own expectations of Ulfric being thoroughly exceeded, but what the Jarl did next shocked her. The dragon hovered above the brutish Nord, staying just out of reach of his axe. It was then that Ulfric Shouted at the creature.
"FUS RO DAH!"
The force of Ulfric's Voice knocked the dragon out of the air, its bronze scaled body crashing into the ground with a force that shook its surroundings, but the Nord warrior kept his balance. While the beast was stunned, he quickly rushed over and proceeded to slice his axe into its neck, again, and again, and again, and again. The dragon ceased all movement, showed no signs of life, and Ulfric dropped to one knee, clearly exhausted. Even from all this distance away, Valkyrie had felt the force of Ulfric's Thu'um, and her questions only continued to pile up. "He can Shout?" She asked out loud. "Where in Oblivion did he learn to do that?"
"That's Ulfric for you," Ralof said with pride. "The Dragonborn, and last son of Talos."
Arngeir definitely had some explaining to do. All of the old man's blustering about how she was the only Dragonborn of this age, and here was this man seemingly able to Shout just as easily as her. Then again, the monk had also told her that it was possible for others to learn how to use the Voice. Had Ulfric learned from the Greybeards? So many questions entered her mind, and it seemed the best man to answer them was none other than Ulfric Stormcloak.
A/N: Confused? Don't be. The FAQ on my profile has been updated and will hopefully answer any questions you may have. I did say at the beginning that lots of changes were going to be made.