The world was slowly beginning to come back to him as the fog of unconsciousness lifted. He felt himself move and shake ever so slightly with each bump the wagon hit.

"Hey, you, you're finally awake," he heard a voice say.

Colin's eyes once more shot open to find a man dressed in blue with blond hair sitting across from him. He wore a tired but proud expression on his face. His hands were bound firmly by a leather strip. There were several others in the cart, dressed in the same blue raiments, save for one who was dressed in rags.

What the fuck?

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" The man said to him. "Same as us, and that thief over there."

Colin looked at him blankly, still unsure of what was going on. It felt like a fever dream. Yet there was that sharp pain on his wrists. Glancing down, he found that he too was bound in leather strips that were uncomfortably tight.

"Walked right into that imperial ambush, same as us and that thief over there," the man said. At this, the one in rags spat forcefully onto the bed of the wagon.

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they weren't looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now," The man dressed in rags said. He turned to Colin, giving a searching look.

"You and me—we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants!"

Colin looked at him blankly, still completely dazed and confused. He had no idea what the fuck was going on.

"What the fuck," He muttered, straining his arms in a futile attempt to break the leather binding him.

"Don't bother," the first man said. "You might have better luck with steel."

"What…where…where the fuck am I?" Colin demanded, his eyes now awake and alert, mind desperately trying to assess what the hell was going on.

The first man gave him an odd look.

"In the back of an Imperial wagon," He said slowly, as if explaining something to a toddler.

"That means nothing to me. Where the fuck am I?" He demanded once more, attempting to put more force into it.

"Skyrim, of course. Where else in Oblivion would you be?" The man replied.

Colin looked at him blankly. He still had no idea where the hell he was.

"Skyrim? The hell is that? Are we still even in Korea?" He said, completely confused.

"Looks like you hit your head too hard there, friend. The Imperials aren't known for their hospitality towards us Nords," The man said.

"Nords? Are we in Scandinavia or something? And what the hell is this empire you keep talking about?" Colin said. Things just got more and more confusing by the second. So confusing that he didn't have time to be afraid.

He heard the man in rags mutter something under his breath, something along the lines of "surrounded by lunatics" as he shook his head.

"Hmm," The man said. "Perhaps you really did hit your head hard. Not the first time I've seen the Imperials give a man a bout of amnesia, curse them."

"What?" Colin said. At this point he almost felt like laughing at the complete lunacy of the situation.

"I'm Ralof, by the way. Our cheerful friend here is Lokir."

"Fuck you," Lokir replied.

"Quiet back there!" A sharp voice from the front commanded.

"Judging by the look on your face, I'm guessing you might really have no idea, do you?" Ralof said.

"No, I remember what happened but I have no clue as to how the hell I got here," Colin replied, feeling annoyed. His head still throbbed.

"Yes, that is what I said," Ralof replied. "Do you remember where you are from?"

"Of course, I'm an American, born and raised in New York," Colin replied.

"Never heard of it," Ralof replied.

How the hell could someone not at least heard of America? Was he even in the same world anymore?

"You've never heard of the U.S?" Colin turned his arm, revealing the flag sewn to the side of his arm.

"No, never," Ralof replied.

"You're shitting me, right?"

"Why would I lie to you, when we are brothers in binds?" Ralof replied.

Great. This was proving to be useless.

"Brothers!" A bitter laugh came from Lokir. "To think that a Stormcloak would think me an equal of Ulfric Stormcloak!"

"Watch your tongue, thief," Ralof spat, giving an icy glare to Lokir. "That is the true high king of Skyrim."

Colin laid back in his seat. This all made no sense. He'd been in an explosion, knocked out, then woken up here, confronted by a bunch of Roman cosplayers, knocked out again, and then woke up with his hands tied talking to a Viking and a thief. He tuned out the argument between Ralof and Lokir, racking his brain hard to think, to try to cling onto any puzzle pieces he could put together.

Where were his comrades? God, we're they at least alright? He'd sworn to keep them safe, doubly so after-

The cart gave a sudden stop, jolting all the passengers inside. No longer were the surroundings now just a misty forest of pines. In front of them lay a large stone wall with several sentries. He tried to lean back to see what was going on in front, but couldn't see anything of importance.

"Helgen? Why…why are we here?" Lokir asked nervously, his voice beginning to shake.

"What do you think? End of the line thief," Ralof replied, his earlier disdain for Lokir replaced with a calm resignation.

"But, surely they know I'm not one of you!" He cried, before looking at Colin. "And him, him too!"

Colin could feel the desperation in his eyes; the man seemed to be clinging on to Colin as a savior, that somehow Colin would be able to sort this out and they could go on their merry way.

"Talos, at least have some dignity before you die," Ralof drawled, looking up at the sky with exasperation.

"Wait, what?" Colin said, suddenly feeling alarmed.

Ralof snorted. "It's the end of the line. The chopping block is not far from here. I'd make your peace with the gods if I were you."

"Wait, Lokir's right. At least in my case, can't speak for him. I didn't do shit, but I'm being executed? Don't I get a trial?" Colin asked.

"It matters little in the eyes of the Imperials," Ralof replied.

"Bullshit! It's only because we're with you!" Lokir replied, uttering a string of curses under his breath.

Colin leaned back once more, swallowing hard. Was this really it? Would this be the way he would go? Killed without even knowing where the hell he was and what his crime was. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. He couldn't think like that. For all he knew his men and women were still alive, and as long as they were he was responsible for them. Perhaps he could talk to one of these…Imperials, was it? Smooth things over?

Though as the cart headed down the stone street and residents looked on with trepidation, he became less sure by the second.

The cart stopped. One by one they were filed out of the cart into a line. One of the soldiers came up to them and began reading names off a list, going by them one at a time. Finally, he stopped at Colin, looking at Colin and back to his list several times.

"You," the man began. "You're not on this list. Who are you?" He inquired.

Colin bit back a sarcastic remark and answered as he was trained to do.

"Lieutenant Colin McGunn, United States Army," Colin replied.

The man gave him an odd look before continuing.

"Well, Mr. McGunn, it appears that you are not on this list. Hold on a second,"

The soldier jogged back to the muscular woman from earlier. Frowny was her name, he decided internally.

"Ma'am, that last one's not on our list, should-"

"He goes too,"

"But, Ma'am, he could be-"

"I said, he goes. It would be wise not to make me repeat myself a third time, now would it, Hadvar?" Frowny said, demonstrating her name perfectly.

"I…no, ma'am," Hadvar replied, before solemnly walking over back to Colin.

"I'm sorry, but it looks like you're going too," Hadvar said, looking and sounding genuinely apologetic.

"You tried your best," Colin replied, giving a sad half smile. "Thanks."

"Yeah. Gods be with you," Hadvar said.

Suddenly there was a commotion, and Lokir brushed past a guard, running with a wild expression on his face.

"You'll never get me, Imperial bastards!" Lokir yelled.

"Idiot," he heard Ralof mutter.

Frowny remained oddly still. Right when Lokir seemed to actually be successful in his escape, Frowny gave a small hand gesture and before Colin could blink, an arrow was lodged in Lokir's throat. The thief hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Colin could faintly hear that eerily familiar last, frantic gurgles of a dying man.

Colin shuddered involuntarily. For a split second, he didn't see Lokir, he saw one of his own.

"Anyone else feel like running?" Frowny asked rhetorically.

Colin and the others were herded in a semicircle around the chopping block. A priestess of sorts began to give last rites for a religion he had never heard of, but was cut off by one of the prisoners.

"For the love of Talos, shut up, and let's get this over with," the man said, voluntarily stepping forward and kneeling down in front of the block. The priestess looked at him with an offended expression, but said nothing more.

As his head was forced down on the block, the man gave one last line.

"My ancestors are smiling upon me. Can you say the same?"

The ax came down and the man's head fell into the basket next to the block, blood spurting from his lifeless corpse.

There were several jeers among the other prisoners, condemning the Imperials for their miscarriage of justice.

Frowny stepped forward, kicking the corpse aside.

"Who's next?" She asked.

He didn't know why, but that idiot brain of his decided now would be an excellent time to laugh and how surreal the whole situation was.

Frowny smiled cruelly at him.

"I do believe we have another volunteer. You know, you're really terrible at this," Frowny said.

Well, if he was going to die, might as well be a smartass.

"Yeah, that's not what your mom said last night," Colin replied, giving her a small chuckle. Her fist made contact with his cheek, and he suddenly found himself lying on the ground.

He could hear the chuckle of the prisoners and even a few soldiers. It's not like he had anything to lose, so why not enjoy it a bit?

"You know she's giving a two for one special right now?" Colin replied, licking away the blood that had begun to run down his nose.

His reward for that line was a sharp kick to the stomach. There were more audible chuckles from the prisoners and a few soldiers snickered as well. Frowny glared at them before grabbing Colin and roughly forcing him against the block.

Colin took a deep breath. Well, this was it.

C'est la vie…

A loud roar was heard echoing through the mountains, startling the soldiers and prisoners alike, who began to move about nervously, eyes to the sky.

"Uh, Captain…" one of the soldiers began.

"I heard. It's irrelevant. Executioner, if you please." Frowny said.

The ax was slowly lifted over his head.

See you soon, Jane.

As he closed his eyes and prepared for the blow, there was suddenly a loud rush of air, knocking everyone down. His eyes opened just in time to see an honest to god dragon landing on the tower right above him.

"ZU'U LOS HET, DOVAHKIIN!"

I am here, Dragonborn?

The words were completely foreign to him and yet he understood them clear as day. But that was the least of his concerns.

The dragon let out a massive roar unlike anything he had ever heard before, and suddenly where there had been exhaustion there was energy and adrenaline. He shot up and dived past the crumbling building.

Frowny, using her two brain cells, decided it would be a wise idea to chase after him instead of seeking cover. She was rewarded for her idiocy by getting crushed by a massive rock. Colin didn't look back. Good riddance. He needed to get out of here, and get out of here now.

He felt a wave of heat behind him and recoiled in horror to find that the dragon also could fucking breath fire. Scrambling to his feet, he ran towards an open door into a stone building, following several other soldiers. One was yelling at them to climb the circular steps towards a supposed safety, and Colin didn't bother to question him.

The small group had made it halfway up the stairway when the wall in front of Colin exploded, revealing the snout of the dragon.

"HI LOS NID RONIT FAH FIN SULYEK DO AAN VAHZAAH DOVAH!"

You are no match for the power of a true dragon

The words were burning in his skull.

The dragon breathed fire into the staircase, and Colin was just lucky enough to duck to avoid being incinerated. The others were not so lucky. When the dragon removed his snout, Colin saw that the others were nothing more than charcoal. Not that he particularly cared at the moment. He continued to race up the crumbling tower.

He leaped from it without thinking onto a burning rooftop, sliding down it with agility he didn't know he had, before landing on the ground with a hard thud. The jump had been epic and graceful, the landing had not. Likely because his hands were still bound.

He felt a hand grip his arm and yank him was spun around, and sudden pressure was felt at his wrists before it washed away completely.

"Thank me later," Hadvar said. "We need to get out of here."

Colin gave an appreciatory nod. "Lead the way," He said.

The duo raced through the burned streets, weaving in and out of the crumbling buildings and dragon fire. Some soldiers tried to hit the dragon with their bows, but it was fruitless.

As they rounded a corner, they saw one of the soldiers fire his bow up into the air. Not even a second later, the head of the dragon came down and bit down, snapping his spine in half like a twig.

"This way!" Hadvar said, pulling Colin with him down another street. Some twenty meters in front of them lay a door that seemed to lead into a keep. It was a safe assumption to assume that's where Hadvar was going. Colin sprinted forward, and yanked open the door. Looking back, his eyes widened. The dragon was walking down the street, its eyes burning with hate. And it was making a beeline for Colin.

He could see the dragon's belly begin to light up and the mouth open. He needed to go now.

In front of him Hadvar fell, slipping in a pool of blood. Colin grabbed him before he could hit the ground, and yanked him into the keep, slamming the door just as an inferno erupted from the dragon's mouth.

They practically dove down a flight of stone stairs as the door melted, igniting everything in the previous room. They rounded a corner into what seemed to be a small barracks. Both men were out of breath, panting heavily. Hadvar still clutched his sword, using it to prop himself upright.

"Thank you," Hadvar said in between greedy breaths. "I would've been ash now if it hadn't been for you."

"Just returning the favor," an equally breathless Colin replied. The two stayed there for half a minute, regaining their strength.

Finally, after their breaths had died down, Colin broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, but what the fuck? Was that a fucking dragon?!" He exclaimed, eyes still wild.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it with my own eyes..but," Hadvar said. "Gods, the legends are true."

"Legends?"

"Of the dragons," Hadvar replied.

"Oh," Colin replied dumbly.

"Listen, we're not out of danger yet. Grab some armor and a sword from here, I'll find us some stamina potions," Hadvar said.

Colin looked up, surprised at the man's level of trust. "Wait, you're asking me to arm myself? A minute ago I was your prisoner," Colin replied.

"And wrongly so. Rikke was always a bastard," Hadvar said.

"You don't know if I'm working with the other guys in blue, the storm beards or whatever," Colin said.

"Stormcloaks. The fact you don't know the name tells me enough," Hadvar said, giving him a small grin.

"Touché."

"Besides, you saved my life," Hadvar said, giving a small nod to Colin.

"You saved mine first, seemed fair I return the favor," Colin said, standing up from the floor.

"The swords and armor are over there. We have to go through the caves to get out, and we'll need them if we want to get out in one piece," Hadvar said, turning to rummage through a cabinet. "I'm Hadvar, by the way."

"Colin. A pleasure."

Colin still had so many questions. It still all felt like a fever dream. Yet he knew that there would be time to think later. Right now, their chief concern was getting to safety.

He found a few pieces of armor that he put over his clothes. They were surprisingly light. The sword was heavier. He'd never wielded one before. He grabbed a dagger as well; they were far more familiar than the sword.

When he was done, he turned to see Hadvar holding out an uncorked bottle with a green liquid sloshing about.

He stared at it blankly.

"Drink," Hadvar said, handing him the bottle before downing one of his own. Colin eyed the bottle suspiciously. The green looked unnatural. Smelled odd as well.

Hadvar finished, wiping the excess liquid from his lips. He looked to the still full bottle in Colin's hands, and then to Colin's face.

"Trust me, ok?" He said.

Oh, what the hell.

Colin downed the liquid. It tasted bitter but with each gulp he felt energy flow into his veins like caffeine. When he finished, he let out an audible breath and stared at the empty bottle.

"Stamina potion," Hadvar began. "We're not out of the woods yet. Follow my lead."

The duo exited the room to go down another passage, leading further into the mountainside.

"What are we looking out for?"

"Spiders, in particular. Maybe a bear. If we're lucky, we won't run into any Stormcloaks," Hadvar said, before amending his statement. "At least, none that want to fight us."

"Spiders? Seriously?" Colin asked bewildered.

"I don't know where you're from, Colin, but down here spiders can grow to be three times the size of a man. And they're never alone," Hadvar said. After seeing the look on Colin's face, he continued.

"We just encountered a dragon, is it really so hard to believe that spiders can grow to become the size of a bear?"

"Fair enough," Colin said. This whole experience seemed like something right out of Lord of the Rings.

The two made it to the end of the hallway, pushing open a large oak door. Inside appeared to be a dungeon of sorts. There were cages hanging from the ceiling, some with skeletal remains still in them. On the floor lay a man in robes, bleeding profusely out of wounds on his neck and chest.

In the back, two Stormcloaks had heard the door open, their weapons ready.

Hadvar clutched the hilt of his sword, Colin parroting him despite not knowing anything of sword combat. If it came to blows, he was probably fucked.

"Listen," Hadvar began, "We've no quarrel with you. We don't need to fight."

One of them laughed a bitter laugh.

"We do after what you did to Sven," the man said.

"Please, let us spare bloodshed. We have bigger problems than politics," Hadvar tried.

"Politics?" The other man spat. "Go to hell, Imperial swine."

Hadvar looked to Colin, who simply shrugged and nodded. The two drew their swords just as the Stormcloaks pounced. One of them lifted his sword above his head and brought it down in a diagonal slash. Colin lifted up his sword to parry the blow, and while successful, the sword was knocked out of his hands.

Shit.

The Stormcloak grinned, and slashed several more times at Colin, who narrowly avoided the blade. He suddenly lunged at Colin, thrusting his sword forward with all his might. Instead of flesh the sword met stone, and Colin seized the opportunity.

He delivered a sharp right hook to the man's cheekbone, stunning him. The sword was knocked free from his hands, where it skittered to the far corner of the room.

However, instead of trying to go for the weapon, the man went straight for Colin with a murderous gaze. He was a brute of a man: easily a foot taller and seventy pounds heavier than Colin.

The man swung at him, however the blow lacked speed. Colin sidestepped and delivered an uppercut to the chin.

Or at least he would've, had the man not suddenly caught his hand. He'd made a grave mistake in assuming the man's reflexes were slow, that he relied on power and not agility.

A hand gripped his throat and shoved him down against a table, squeezing hard. The man let go of Colin's hand and put a second hand on Colin's throat, pushing him down hard against the table whilst glaring into his eyes.

Colin struggled, clawing at the man's hands as his body became starved for oxygen, but to no avail. The man was using gravity to lean into the table, which in turn was crushing his windpipe.

But he'd be damned if he were to survive a dragon but not a muscle-brained fucker trying to choke him out.

He reached down to his belt, desperately trying to grab the hilt of his dagger whilst keeping one hand remaining on one of the man's hands. The man was too filled with bloodlust to notice what Colin was doing.

His vision was becoming spotty, but he felt the hilt of his dagger. Just a little more…

There!

Grasping the hilt firmly, Colin plunged it into the man's neck. Warm blood sprayed all over him and the man released his grip, groping his neck instead of Colin's in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

Colin gasped for air as the man fell down on the floor, blood still pumping violently from his neck.

After regaining his vision and some of his breath (the speed of which he could likely attribute to the stamina potion) he looked around for Hadvar.

Hadvar too was panting, standing over the corpse of a Stormcloak who had a sword lodged through his heart.

"Nice job," Hadvar said. "You're shit with a sword, though."

"Yeah, would you believe it if I said it was the first one I've ever wielded?" Colin asked, wiping the blood off his dagger.

"No. You've killed before, though, haven't you?" Hadvar asked. It wasn't a pointed or loaded question, merely a curious one.

"Yeah. I was in the…well. I was in the army once. Still am, I guess," Colin said. He wondered if it would count as desertion, waking up in Middle Earth, or whatever this place was.

"You know hand to hand combat and how to use a dagger, but not a sword? What kind of army were you in?" Hadvar asked as the two proceeded to go deeper into the caverns.

"Listen, I have no idea where or when the hell I am. To me, it's as if I woke up in a fantasy novel thousands of years in the past. One moment I was with my unit on a gravel road on the Korean Peninsula, the next I'm waking up to a forest and people with swords. I haven't had time to really process any of it," Colin explained.

"Right now, I'm trying to compartmentalize it. I may be an idiot, but I'm not stupid enough to put that above my own survival."

Hadvar considered him for a moment or two, as if deciding whether or not to believe him.

"It sounds crazy, but then again we just escaped a fabled fire breathing lizard, so your story sounds more sane comparatively," Hadvar said.

"A dragon can make anything else sound sane, so it's not exactly a high bar," Colin chuckled.

"True. Regardless, you are right to compartmentalize. We need to make it to safety first," Hadvar said as he pushed open a door. No sooner had the door opened completely did an arrow come whizzing past Colin's head. The room they had entered was massive, with small bridges over rushing water. Three Stormcloaks had taken up defensive positions, two armed with a greatsword and mace respectively, the other armed with a bow.

Thankfully, these Stormcloaks were fairly uncoordinated and from the looks of it quite fatigued. The two in front rushed Colin and Hadvar, which forced the archer to stop shooting, lest she wanted to hit one of her comrades. The one with the mace went after Hadvar, while the one with the greatsword seemed focused on him. The platform they were on was narrow. Hadvar could handle himself well enough with his sword, but Colin could not.

The man with the greatsword swung, and Colin bent backwards. He somersaulted underneath the man's blade and was able to parry one of his swings, but parrying a second, more coordinated strike would be difficult.

So, Colin chucked his sword at the man. The blade soared harmlessly past the man, who gave a disbelieving chuckle.

"Thanks for making this easy," the man said, smirking. He began to take several steps closer, raising the greatsword like a bat.

"Sorry about this. Nothing personal," The man continued, preparing to cleave this witless imperial in two.

Unfortunately for him, that was exactly what Colin wanted. He lunged out suddenly towards the blade, revealing a previously hidden dagger that plunged itself between the man's ribs. Leaving no time for his opponent to even register what had happened, Colin gave the man a sharp kick to the shins followed by a punch to the jaw.

The man collapsed, blood pouring out of his wound. He wasn't dead yet, but he couldn't pose a threat. That archer, however, could. As if on cue, an arrow flew past, grazing him along his temple and drawing blood.

Colin didn't have time to pick up the dagger, so he did the next best thing. Sprint full speed towards the archer. The woman's eyes widened in surprise and she rushed to draw another arrow before deciding to pull out a dagger of her own. Colin capitalized on her indecision, grabbing her wrist and tackling her off the platform. They fell on to hard rock, the woman's skull giving a sickening crack as it hit the ground hard. She went limp and her once panicked breathing ceased completely.

Colin, however, had been cushioned by the woman's fall. Other than the cut across his forehead, he was completely fine. Looking back he saw Hadvar disarm the final Stormcloak, and with a clean stroke, swung his sword across the man's neck, cutting the major arteries wide open.

Colin and Hadvar shared a glance, giving a quick nod to communicate that they were all right.

"Nice work," Hadvar said.

"Yeah," Colin replied, staring back at the archer. She lay against the rock as if it were a pillow, painted with brain matter and skull fragments. He must've stared at her too long, because Hadvar took notice.

"It was you or her. You did what you had to," He offered sympathetically.

Colin looked back, before going up to the woman to grab her bow and quiver.

"It's not that I killed her. Or anyone else. I lost the ability to humanize my enemy long ago. That's what scares me," He said, strapping the quiver to his back and slinging the bow over, pilfering the woman's knife finally.

"A useful survival skill," Hadvar remarked.

"It's served me better than you could know. I still question whether or not I can fit in with society anymore," Colin said, letting his feelings roll off his tongue. Briefly vent, then bottle it up and move back on. He'd been doing it all his life.

"I know what you mean," Hadvar replied. "We're entering the caves now. Stick close to me, and watch above you. And for the love of Stendarr, do not get caught in webbing."

Hadvar wasn't kidding when he said the spiders down here could grow massive. The first few were about the size of a dog, and ultimately very vulnerable. Hadvar was supplemented adequately this time by Colin's bow; unlike the sword, Colin was quite good with the bow. He was taking his training and loosely applying it, and it paid off. He hit the first spider right in one of its eyes, killing it instantly. He managed to fell two more in a similar manner. Hadvar enjoyed similar success, quickly delimbing the creatures before delivering a final blow down through their head.

Right when they thought they had killed the last one, they heard an awful screeching sound from above. Looking up, Colin nearly shit himself. Coming down from the ceiling was the biggest, ugliest creature he had ever seen in his life. It was only by the skin of his teeth that he was able to dive out of the way as the gargantuan beast dropped onto the ground. He saw Hadvar's face turn white as a sheet as the spider began to skitter after him, saliva dripping down the thing's fangs. And Jesus, despite its size, the thing could move.

Hadvar was nearly cornered at this point, making quick, superficial slashes at the spider before quickly dodging the brute. The sheer size of the beast coupled with the terrain left Hadvar at the spider's mercy. Hadvar threw out his sword, sticking the spider firmly in the eye. The creature roared in pain, and Hadvar's sword flew from his grasp.

Shit.

"Hey ugly!" Colin shouted out. As ideas went, this was a particularly bad one, but he'd be damned if he let Hadvar die now.

The spider whirled around as if it had understood the insult, letting out a hideous screech. Colin leveled his bow, but didn't fire.

"Yeah, yeah you! What are you, Grendel's mother or something?" Colin shouted.

The beast screeched once more and began walking towards Colin menacingly. It was taking its time; it knew it had the upper hand here.

Just a little closer…

Hadvar rushed to pick up his sword, but wouldn't make it in time to save his newfound friend.

Colin was on his own.

"What a pathetic shit you are. It's a wonder that you weren't killed at birth!"

The spider shrieked and charged Colin. He let loose an arrow aimed directly for the spider's eye, but at the last second, the wretched creature moved out of the way with inhuman speed and the arrow flew harmlessly past.

Oh, fuck

He dived to the side as the spider lunged, its saliva flying out and catching him on the forearm. Where it made contact with exposed skin it burned, causing Colin to cry out in pain. It wasn't enough to have the beast be as big as a truck, but it had to have venomous saliva.

Hadvar struck one of the spider's legs, shaving it clean off, before ducking out of the way as the spider roared in pain and swung. Ignoring the burning sensation on his forearm, Colin unsheathed his knife. The beast was now focused on Hadvar, once again cornering him.

Time for plan B

Hadvar had imagined many ways in which he would die. Not once on that list did he have an instance of: "getting ripped apart by a spider after a dragon attack." There were probably worse ways to go. Fire was supposed to be pretty painful. Hadvar clutched his sword tight, and prepared to make his final swing. At least he would go down fighting.

Hadvar had, within the past five minutes, also imagined ways to defeat this monstrous beast. Not once did he ever think of jumping onto the beast's back. That was pure insanity. He wasn't sure who was more surprised: him, the spider, or Colin when the latter leaped onto the spider's back, dagger in hand, driving it down hard into the spider's skull.

The spider shrieked in pain, trying to throw Colin off its back. Hadvar didn't waste any time. As the spider screamed in pain, Hadvar drove his sword right through its mouth, and the beast went limp.

For a second, the two men were utterly still.

It was Colin who broke the silence.

"Well, add that to my list of 'Things I never want to do again,'" He said, hopping off the spider, disgust written all over his face.

"That was…," Hadvar began. "You are either the world's greatest genius or the most idiotic fool. My money's on the latter."

"A safe bet," Colin replied, wincing in pain. Now that the fight was over, he had to inspect his wound. It looked like a bad burn, as if he had gotten severe frostbite. It hurt like hell, but he wasn't worried about the pain. The venom was what concerned him. It had entered his bloodstream.

Hadvar frowned and walked over.

"Here, let me take a look."

Colin stuck out his arm. Hadvar sucked air in through his teeth.

"Good news is you won't die. The venom is quick acting and decays quite quickly. The bad news is it'll hurt like hell for a bit and leave a nasty scar. You'll also have to watch out for an infection," Hadvar said, ripping off a piece of his tunic and wrapping it around the wound before tying it off.

"Thanks. Does hurt like a bitch. What were those things?" Colin asked, squeezing his eyes shut as Hadvar wrapped the improvised bandage around him.

"Frostbite spiders. They get their name because of the effect of their venom. Nasty creatures. Spend their entire lives in caves," Hadvar replied. "Will you be ok, or do you need a minute?"

"No, I'm good to go. Thanks, though."

The rest of the journey was thankfully devoid of combat. They managed to sneak past a bear and out into fresh air once more. Fresh air had never tasted so good. Though it had only been a couple of hours, it might have well been a lifetime ago that he woke up on that cart.

"So," Colin began, his voice unsure of itself. "Where do we go from here?"

He hoped that Hadvar would accompany him because he still had no clue where the fuck he was. Or when he was, for that matter. Thankfully, the feeling of camaraderie he felt with Hadvar was mutual.

"There's a town not far from here, Riverwood. I have an uncle who lives there, so we can rest up with him," Hadvar explained.

Colin gave a grateful nod towards Hadvar.

"Thank you. If it wasn't for that, I'd be screwed."

"If it wasn't for you riding that spider like a horse, I'd be screwed. Funny equilibrium, we've reached, no?" Hadvar said. "Come on. It's about an hour's walk."

The two men found the road and followed it, walking at a steady pace. After hearing Colin's story, Hadvar filled him in a bit on where he was. They made it to Riverwood by nightfall.

A guard had stopped them and questioned their intentions, but laughed and waved them in when Hadvar told him that they were 'wayward souls in need of a drink.'

"Here we are," Hadvar said, stopping at what appeared to be a blacksmith shop. He knocked twice before the door opened, revealing a big, well built man with a beard.

"Hadvar!" The man exclaimed in a deep voice, wrapping him a bear-like hug. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Egh, you're not gonna believe it if I told you," Hadvar replies.

"Well, you look like shit," the man says before turning to Colin. "Who's this?"

"A friend of mine, Colin," Hadvar says, gesturing loosely at Colin.

The burly man gave a broad smile, extending his hand. Colin took it, and gave it a firm shake.

"Any friend of Hadvar is a friend of mine! I'm Alvor. Come in, come in! Sigrid is just making dinner," Advor motioned for them to come in. It was beginning to become chilly outside, and Colin felt the warmth wash over him.

The two had barely made it through the front door when a girl practically jumped into Hadvar's arms.

"Hadvar! You came!" The girl cried.

"Aye, I did. I brought a friend, too," Hadvar said.

The girl reluctantly released herself from Hadvar before turning to Colin. She looked at him up and down, as if she were sizing him up. Ultimately, he must have passed the test because the girl beamed at him.

"I'm Dorothy," She said.

Colin smiled. She looked so much like Jane. He bent down in a gentle manner, looking into curious and warm hazel eyes.

"I'm Colin," he said. He gestured to the doll in her hands. "Who's this?"

Dorothy looked at her doll and then back to Colin, speaking in a hushed voice.

"That's Isabelle. She's a knight. Don't tell anybody though, ok?" She said conspiratorially.

Colin chuckled and agreed, Isabelle had to stay a secret knight, because it was cooler.

A woman emerged from the back room. She had kind but weary features, as if she was accustomed to long working hours. The weariness disappeared when she saw Hadvar standing in the living room.

"Hadvar! It's so good to see you!" She said, wrapping Hadvar into a hug. She abruptly pulled back and frowned.

"What's this?" She said, pinching his cheek. "You're turning to bones! We need to put some weight back on you. I knew the army was slacking in their rations, but this! This is-"

"It's good to see you too, Aunt Sigrid," Hadvar said.

Sigrid smiled, glancing over at Colin.

"Since we have a guest, I'll drop it for now. But expect me to watch over your plate this evening," She said to him sternly, almost like a warning. She then turned to Colin, shaking his hand firmly.

"Colin, Misses…?" He said searchingly.

"Ah! None of that. I'm Sigrid," she said with a warm smile. Then she pulled back and gave him a look over, just as she had with Hadvar. To an outsider, Colin might have been her son.

"You're worse than him! Change of plans. We'll have potato stew tomorrow. You need some meat," Sigrid said, and with that, she disappeared into the kitchen.

Alvor looked over at Colin and chuckled.

"You're a hostage now," Hadvar said with a smirk.

"Ah, I think someone's happy that Sigrid will be hovering over him tonight instead of you," Alvor said.

"I heard that, dear!" A muffled voice came from the kitchen.

"Please, sit. I'll get us the mead," Alvor said, before frowning slightly. "What happened to your arm?"

Colin looked down to his arm, suddenly reminded of the pain he felt.

"Spider attack. Guess I got some venom on me," Colin said, shrugging.

"That's not even the craziest part of our day, if you can believe it," Hadvar said, sinking into a chair.

Alvor scratched his beard in thought.

"Right. I'll fetch some herbs and something to clean the wounds. We have bandages too," Alvor said, before he too disappeared into another room.

"Don't forget the mead!" Hadvar called after him.

"The day I forget the mead will be the day I die!" Alvor proclaimed with a laugh.

Colin sat down in a chair at the table, soaking in the atmosphere. It felt pleasant here; the stress left him quickly. He found himself no longer caring about where he was anymore. He hadn't had time to relax in what felt like forever.

He felt a tug at his sleeve, and he looked to find Dorothy looking at him with a curious expression on her face.

"Can I see it?" She asked.

"See what?" Colin replied.

"The spider venom! I wanna see!" Dorothy proclaimed.

"It's nothing pretty, I assure you," he said with a smile.

"Oh c'mon. I'm ten and a half, I'm not a baby. Please?" She pleaded, giving Colin a baleful look. He relented and removed the bandage.

Dorothy made a face, scrunching up her nose, but did not look away.

"Ewwww!" She said, but remained fascinated by the wound. "That's so cool! Hey Hadvar, do you have any spider bites?"

Hadvar chuckled. "I'm afraid not. Just some boring cuts and scrapes."

Alvor returned, carrying a small medical box.

"Daddy, look! It's so gross but cool!" Dorothy cried.

Alvor raised an eyebrow before sitting down with Colin.

"Sorry about that. She's a curious one," Alvor said.

"Don't worry about it," Colin said before turning back to Dorothy. "You're a brave one aren't you?" He inquired.

Dorothy beamed and proudly puffed up her chest.

"I am! Wanna see my sword?" She asked.

"Absolutely," Colin replied. God, he had missed this innocence.

Alvor dabbed something onto the wound before opening a small bottle and pouring the contents onto a rag. "A fair warning, this'll hurt a bit," he said.

Colin winced as Alvor wrapped the bandage around his forearm.

"I've had worse," Colin said.

Inspecting his work, Alvor gave a satisfied click of his tongue before getting up and disappearing into the kitchen. He returned moments later with a handful of bottles.

"I got these the other day from Lucian. Akaviri spirits, according to him. Don't know if that's true, but I like them a lot."

Colin accepted a bottle and took a swig. It tasted like spiced sake. Foreign, yet pleasant.

"Now, let's hear about this adventure you two were on," Alvor said with a smile.

Hadvar recounted the tale of the adventures they had gotten up to today, with Colin occasionally jumping in to add a small detail or answer a question. Dorothy sat next to him at the table, quietly listening in with wide eyes filled with excitement. When he finished, Alvor scratched his beard, a troubled look on his face.

"Are you sure it was a dragon?" He asked. "They've been dead for several millennia."

"Positive. You could feel the power radiating off of it," Hadvar replied.

"Hard to mistake a giant, fire breathing lizard for anything else," Colin quipped, leaning back in his seat.

Alvor looked down, fixated on his mead for a moment or so. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

"This is…troubling, to say the least. I'm glad you told me, but I'm just a blacksmith. You need to inform the Jarl," Alvor said, the warmth gone from his eyes, replaced by a calculating demeanor.

"If what you're saying is true, then…" Alvor trailed off. He shook his head before turning to Colin.

"So, how did you end up in the back of a prison wagon, next to Ulfric Stormcloak no less?" Alvor said, unsubtly changing the topic

"I have absolutely no idea," Colin said with a pained chuckle. "It's all very surreal to me."

"You must have some idea, no?" Alvor prodded.

Connor took a deep breath in and leaned back in his chair for a moment, then righted himself and exhaled.

"Look, I'm going to talk through it all, because I don't really know- I mean, I can't make much sense of it either. I was with my unit, my unit in the U.S army, when we came under attack by enemy fire. I was rendered unconscious, and when I came to, I was in a forest on a mountain, not the place where I was last. There was no sign of my unit, or any enemy unit, not even a bullet casing. I walked down the mountain a bit in a daze, and came across what looked to me like Romans, that I guess now were actually imperials, and shouted out to them, initially thinking they were allies. They weren't, and I think they assumed I was with the band of recently captured Stormcloaks, and the next thing I know I'm waking up in the back of the wagon. The rest you know from what Hadvar told you," Colin finished, looking at Alvor expectantly.

Alvor wore a confused expression on his face, as if he were trying to recall something but couldn't. Colin sighed, glancing down before once more looking at Alvor.

"Does any of the terminology I just used make any sense to you?" Colin asked.

"I only got a few years education, so you'll have to define termawhatsit for me," Alvor said with a chuckle.

"The terms I used?" Colin said, hoping there was at least some recognition.

"The ones I can't say I'm familiar with are Romans and," Alvor said, racking his brain. "Bullets. That's the one."

"You said you were in the army?" Hadvar asked. "I know you mentioned it before, but at the time I assumed it was the imperial army."

"The United States Army. You know, as in America?" Colin asked, fishing for anything familiar.

"Never heard of it," Hadvar said. "Are they on Tamriel?"

"Tamriel?"

Now it was Colin's turn to be confused.

"Tamriel. The continent which we are on," Hadvar said slowly, as if explaining something to a child.

"No, that can't be right. The continents are North and South America, Africa, Europe, Asia, Oceania, and Antarctica." Colin said firmly.

"Well, in Skyrim and Cyrodiil we call it Tamriel. Never paid much attention to if there were others," Hadvar said.

"Dude, I don't even know what or where Skyrim and Cyrodiil are," Colin said, swallowing hard.

Alvor raised his eyebrows at that.

"Really?" Alvor asked. When Colin nodded in confirmation, he continued.

"Skyrim is the province you're in now. Very big place, home to us Nords. Cyrodiil's another province to the South, home to the Empire."

Colin was stunned. None of this made any sense.

"I've…never heard of any of this, swear to God," He said. "What year is it?"

It was then that Dorothy interrupted.

"Everyone knows that! They have it on the big board in town. It's 201 of the Fourth Era!" She exclaimed, seemingly proud of herself.

Colin blinked and shook his head.

"Wait, what?"

"She's right. Today's date is the 27th of Rain's Hand, 4E 201. They have different names for the months, but as far as I know everyone in the empire uses the same calendar," Alvor piped in.

"No it was…at least sometime in June, but the year was 2029. That I'm sure about," Colin said, unsure of himself.

Hadvar frowned and shook his head. They sat in silence for a while, Colin getting lost in his own thoughts, trying to make heads or tails of the whole situation. If he didn't know any better, he might've said he was in a different world; that wasn't possible at all.

"Look, you've had a long day, no? It's no good trying to figure this all out when you're half starved and exhausted. Let's wait till the morning. We have some spare blankets we can set up for you. When you wake up, we can sort this out then. Sound like a plan?" Alvor asked.

Colin nodded. It made sense. It was hard to crack the enigma of his current situation when he was as fatigued and hungry as he was.

"Yeah, okay," he relented.

"And frankly, you look like you could use a drink! I've plenty of Akaviri spirits to spare, Talos knows!" Alvor said with a laugh that sounded more like a pleasant bellow.

Pushing aside the fact he had no idea what Talos meant (some sort of deity, maybe?), he laughed along with Alvor.

"I've been dry longer than any man should've," Colin admitted.

Alvor stood up sharply.

"This cannot do!" He said with a booming voice. "In my home, we make sure guests are treated with the utmost hospitality!"

"That's great and all, but I'd rather a Honningbrew mead," Hadvar said, rolling his eyes.

Alvor shot a mock dirty glare at his nephew.

"To think, my own kin, a traitor to the Akaviri spirit!" He bellowed.

Colin laughed, letting the stress wash away from him. He missed the kind of amicable and energetic disposition that Alvor had.

"Now, I must go to the cellar!" He proclaimed with a laugh, only to be stopped by his wife holding a tray of food, an eyebrow raised and the ghost of a smile on her face.

"I think that Alvor must go to his chair and eat dinner first, then get his alcohol, hmm?" She said in a sweet but dangerous tone. Alvor rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"Ah, yes, of course dear," He said, reluctantly sitting back down at his place.

"Forgive me," He said to Colin. "I must mind my manners. And my wife."

"Don't worry about it," Colin said with a chuckle.

XXX

A warm feeling hummed across Colin's body. His inebriated mind tried fruitlessly to make sense of everything, but time and time again he could draw no plausible conclusions. Eventually, he gave up and simply reflected on the dinner and the feelings it provoked. It had been far too long since he had any semblance of a break from the frontlines; a taste of normalcy.

Sigrid had prepared a delicious meal of venison and leeks, and the Akaviri spirit had been just the thing he needed. Alvor and Hadvar had made for great conversationalists, the latter of the two giving a particularly hilarious description of Colin's suicidal stunt with the spider. Dorothy had been glued to Colin, asking him all sorts of questions about the adventure he had been on today, particularly about the dragon. She'd proudly displayed her wooden sword, which had the unfortunate name of "Woody."

He had actually managed to forget the war and the fact that he didn't know where he was. It felt oddly refreshing. He pushed the issues to the back of his mind and let sleep claim him as he lay next to the dying fire.

Alvor was right. He could figure it out tomorrow.

XXX

Gunfire. Never ending, unceasing, interminable. The roar of a jet overhead, the sound of its gun lighting up the city. The mortars slamming into the ground. The fire of cannons. And the screams. So, so, so many screams. So many bodies.

It feels like a nightmare. Such hell cannot be unleashed upon the Earth. Except it's not a nightmare. It is very, very, very real. He lived it.

Every night, he is forced to revisit his memories. To relive the horrors.

He sees Johnston fire his machine gun out of the shelled out house. Goldstein takes a round the chest. Singh is shot dead trying to pull back the wounded Goldstein. He steps over the bodies of Smith, McCormick, Hsu, and Kidman, taking up a position and shouting into a radio. It's static, it always is. Even if there was anything intelligible, he couldn't hear it over the gunfire.

A mortar shell lands nearby, peppering Johnston with shrapnel. He screams, and Danner grabs him, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding. It looks like this time, Johnston will be ok, provided he gets back to a medical post. Nicholson has a grim look on her face, firing her rifle in short, controlled bursts.

Down the street, French troops push up. Their support is here.

Hours later, he is exhausted. Most of his soldiers are wounded, dead, or dying.

They pull back, replaced by Koreans.

He finds out Danner was killed taking Johnston back. Johnston bled to death waiting for help. He was crying for his mother.

The pounding in his head reaches a crescendo when the artillery batteries open fire.

He's so, so, so tired. His legs give out and he falls to the ground, shaking and covering his ears. Nearby, he hears the screams of the wounded.

He hopes the ringing in his ears stops.