Chapter 1: The Awakening

Some people say that strange beginnings create stranger memories that last a lifetime... Sometimes even two, if you believe in that sort of thing.

It's funny, that being the last thing I think about; a second chance. I looked over, peering past the shattered glass and debris, my vision blurry. How long have I been upside down for? My hands and face felt cold, despite the heat from the fire outside the driver's door. I guess this old rust bucket had a gas leak after all... Sirens were all around me. I could see some firefighters rushing toward the car.. but before I even had the time to fully process everything, there was a blinding light and a loud crashing explosion... and then, darkness. It seemed like forever, existing in that endless darkness. That maddening silence. The feeling of unfeeling... Until somehow, I saw my vision return to me. The black spots of my eyesight turned to blurred surroundings, the silence replaced with the sound of birds, and trees, and some sort of wracking sound... like hooves?

I found myself looking up into the sky. It was covered in overcast clouds, pine trees passing around me. I wasn't entirely sure why, but it all seemed eerily familiar in a way I couldn't place it.

"Hey you, you're finally awake!"

Being shocked from my day dream, I quickly jerked my head down to find myself in a wagon. A few men sat around me, all bound as well as me. My clothes were different... and across from me was a face I knew all too well.

"...Ralof??" I asked, my voice a bit raspy. The blond bearded man cocked his brow, his eyes growing wary. "Have... we met?" Shaking my head, I could feel my heart beating faster and faster, my head racing. I was just in a wreck. Maybe I'm in a coma?? But.. the binding on my wrists feel so real...

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" Looking back up, Ralof seemed to relax from his suspicious stare. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there..."

Groaning, the man to the right glared daggers at Ralof. "Damn you Stormcloaks... Skyrim was fine, until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell." Then, the man glanced over at me. "Hey, you. You and me, we shouldn't-"

"-Be here?" I finished for him, locking eyes with the man. Slowly, my memory was coming back, even in my delirious state. "You're... Lokir, right? I'm going to say this simply. It doesn't matter who these Imperials are after. We're all tied up, and we're all on the bandwagon... literally. Let me give you some advice that might save your short life; Don't run. I don't care what goes through your head, or how fast you think you are, you're not faster than an arrow."

As I talked, I could see Lokir's eyes widen, both in shock and confusion. Probably like Ralof, he was confused how I knew his name... I don't know how long this dream is going to last, but I should probably just ride it out for now. Ralof nodded as I finished, a bit hesitantly. "This strange talking woman is right, horse thief. We're all brothers and sisters in binding now."

Then, something I wasn't expecting; the Imperial driving the cart turned, and backhanded Ralof, popping him harshly in the mouth. "SHUT UP BACK THERE!"

That was strange... I don't recall the intro ever having the driver hit Ralof like that. Maybe that's just my imagination running wild? Ralof spits out some blood onto the floor of the cart, his lip busted, and he sneers at the driver before looking back.

Lokir smirked, before looking at the person beside me. A reddened brown haired man, mouth bound, with furred armored attire and deep jaded eyes. "What's wrong with him?" I heard the thief say.

"...Ulfric," I said, noticing Ralof about to lecture Lokir but catching him off guard when I answered for him. Noticing them all looking at me, I gulped and continued. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of... Windhelm? I think? It's on the eastern side from what I remember. Namesake and Leader of the Stormcloaks that you tongue lashed, Lokir."

"...And the one true High King," Ralof added, his eyes still trained on me like a hawk. "Are you native from here?" I laughed a bit sheepishly, waving it off a bit. "N-Not exactly; I just know a decent amount about Skyrim!"

A decent amount was an understatement. I spent a borderline of ten years in Skyrim, when it was a game. I had the original guide book, watched countless conspiracy YouTubers dissect the game in every way imaginable, played through every possible build and story path; Literally over a third of my life was Skyrim. And that's not even including the hours I put into Oblivion..

"Hm... Well, nonetheless, it looks like you've got a good head on your shoulders," he says with a cynical sneer, staring at the back of the cart driver's head. "A shame you're not long from losing it, right along with ours." Then, he looks back at the horse thief beside him. "Lokir, was it? Where are you from?"

Lokir returns zealot's glance, and scoffs with a shrug. "Why do you care, rebel?" Despite the thief's comments, Ralof's eyes were kind, filled with empathy.

"Because... a nord's last thoughts should be of home."

Hearing those words come from Ralof for the millionth time, somehow it felt different. Usually at this part of the intro, I'm just waiting for the scene to pass and was turning on music or something... but especially now, hearing those words, seeing the face of an actual human being in front of me and the pain on his face... it felt real. I didn't hear much else, as I felt the adrenaline kick in again.

There was always that old saying, that if you died in your dreams, you'd die in real life. I never really believed it until now, but... Even if this was a coma, I need to treat this as if it's actually happening. And if it's actually happening... I need to consider my options, and get ahead of the curve.

Looking down at my bound hands, I turned one palm to face the sky, and tried flexing and contorting the hand. There must be some trick to using magic, right? Like a flick of the wrist, or some Spider-Man thing...

"Hey, what are you doi-"

Before Ralof could say anything, I put a finger to my lips to shush him, and quickly get back to doing hand signs. Curling my hand up and concentrating, I try and imagine heat... and as I flicked my wrist down as if letting loose a yoyo, much to my satisfaction, I watched as a small flame flickered to life in the palm of my hand. Glancing up at Ralof, I give a wink, and bring the flame to my bindings. With the mist and overcast, the area was just obscured enough that the soldiers shouldn't see the smoke.

Catching on quickly, Lokir nudged Ralof and stirred up a conversation, to avoid suspicion. "Hey, rebel- Ralof," he corrected. "You know anything about this place we're pulling up at?" Turning to Lokir confused and about to question him, Ralof was suddenly given a swift kick by the gagged Ulfric from across the cart, and the blond man's eyes widened as he realized. "Y-Yeah, I remember them saying they were headed to Helgen... I used to be sweet on a girl from there. I wonder... maybe Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in."

"I'm sure she does," I say in a soft tone, looking up from my work to see them all glance over toward me. Keeping my hands low, I show them that I'd freed myself, but am keeping the bindings tightly held to look like I'm still wrapped up. Leaning over to Ulfric, I give a quick whisper to him.

"When it's the 'end of the line', take position in front of me."

Ulfric stays facing front, but I see his eyes glance at me from the side, and he gives a slow nod.

Then I look over to Ralof and Lokir. "Whatever you both do, be calm. Be brave. And don't run." Not saying a word, they nod as well. Funny, how well the boys listen when you're the only one not chained up.

Then, I see Ralof sit up, looking ahead. "There she is... You know, it's funny. when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe..." Following his gaze, I saw the oh so familiar town, my eyes already trailing as we passed the gates to stare at none other than the Imperial General himself.

"Ha! Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor," Ralof spits out. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this." Glaring up at him, I sigh and kick his shin. "Hey, lay off the racism big guy," I say bluntly. "That kinda attitude isn't gonna help you right now." Despite the sneer I got from him, Ralof seemed to lay off, still eyeing the Thalmor as the cart slowed down. "Easy for you to say," he spouts off, and now it was my turn to cock a brow. What was that supposed to mean??

Lokir looked around, his face growing wary. "W-Wait, why are they stopping?" "Why do you think?" Ralof replied. "End of the line."

Glancing to Ulfric, the jarl's eyes already met mine, and without hesitating, he began to get off first, and I followed right after him. "Let's go," I said, looking to Ralof and giving him a wink. "Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us, right?" The Nord blinked for a second, then grinned back. "Took the words right out of my mouth," he said, dragging the nervous Lokir with him as they got out and stood beside us.

Looking around briefly to make sure there weren't any guards looking in our immediate direction while the imperial captain and.. Hadvar? was walking over, I quickly got to work, Bringing my 'bound' hands up, I produced the flame back into them, and burned through a good chunk of the binding that was gagging the Jarl. Admittedly, I also singed a bit of his hair... but I'm pretty sure he'll hold his complaints for now. Regardless, the binding was still there, but one good neck tug and he should rip it right off. Tapping him on the back to signal that he was good, he nodded ever so slightly, before the Captain began her short spout.

"Step toward the block when we call your name. One at a time!" Ralof snorts beside me with a sigh. "Empire loves their damn lists." The man, Hadvar, glances over at Ralof as he spoke, and my hairs honestly stood up from the unspoken hostility in their shared deadlock stare. The Captain eventually nudged Hadvar, and he snaps out of it, looking down at his list. "Ahem.. Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."

Ulfric didn't bat an eye, walking forward and left to the line of his fellow men and women, loyal soldiers all waiting for execution. Looking over, I could see the look on Ralof's face; true loyalty and care for his leader. "It's been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," I hear him say, and if it weren't for me keeping up the image of imprisonment, I would've probably tried hugging the moron.

"Ralof of Riverwood; Lokir of Rorikstead," Hadvar continued, keeping his eyes locked on his paper as he spoke.

"No, I'm not a rebel! You can't-" before he could continue, I stamp on his foot, and he growls a bit and turns to me. "Don't run," I whisper to him again, gesturing with a head nudge for him to look behind the captain. As he did, he notices the archers posted behind her and looking in his direction, and his panicked eyes were hit with realization, looking back to mine. "You're no faster than an arrow. I won't warn you again," I tell him, and I look forward.

"Lokir of Rorikstead," Hadvar repeats, looking up from his paper to stare at the thief. I hear the thief gulp, and he hesitantly walks toward, joining Ralof in line.

Seeing this, I smile a bit. Using the flames spell early, undoing Ulfric's gag, keeping Lokir from being arrow fodder; Does this mean I can really change the course of events, even if just a little bit? If so, I wonder how much has changed on it's own... like in the cart, with the soldier hitting Ralof. That was completely new-

"-Wait, you there. Step forward." Glancing up from my monologue, I see Hadvar and the captain staring me down, and I sigh before making my way forward. "Who are you, Breton? You from Daggerfall? Fleeing from some court intrigue?"

I blinked a few times, and suddenly Ralof's comment earlier made sense. He must've said that because I looked like a half elf... of course, a real life depiction of this game wouldn't let me actually morph myself like in the character creation menu. It must've preloaded me with some basic appearance of some kind...

"No, I'm not," I say bluntly, trying to play the role without getting too many weird looks. "My name is.." I thought for a bit before answering. A name... I always sucked at names.

"...My name is Claire, a local, a prior orphan and a simple trader. I am half elf, and half Nord.. I was looking for passage southwest to Hammerfell, to help put together some new trade deals with a band of Redguard associates when this war started kicking off."

Luckily, my bullshit skills aren't complete trash.

"..Hm... well, it looks like unfortunately, your trading days are over," Hadvar says, before glancing to the captain. "What should we do? She's not on the list."

"Forget the list," his captain says without hesitation. "She goes to the block, same as the others."

With a sigh, the man nods. "By your orders, Captain," he says under his breath before looking back at me. "I'm sorry... at least you will die here, in your homeland... Follow the captain, prisoner. Nice and easy."

nodding and doing as I was told for now, I could already hear Tullius begin to address Ulfric.

"Ulfric Stormcloak... Jarl of Windhelm. Some here in Helgen would call you a hero! But, a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king, and usurp his throne."

As I fully walked up, I glanced over to Ulfric, and unlike the usual muffled grunts I'd hear from him in countless playthroughs, I instead see a glazed, lazy, defiant look in his eye. Almost like he was smirking behind his gag. He knew that any moment, he could rip that gag off, and with three little words, quite possibly break every single bone in Tullius' body.

"Hm? Nothing to say?" Tullius retorts, staring into Ulfric's eyes like he was wanting the Jarl to retort behind his restraints, but to no avail. Sneering, Tullius turned away. Not having his fill, however, he turned back and got into Ulfric's face. "You started this war, Ulfric! You plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"

"Yeah right," I heard myself say, and the others flicked their eyes toward me as my anxiety went through the roof. Way to go Claire! Great job on keeping a low profile.

"Oh? And what do you know about this war, girl?" Tullius spat out, looking at me with fire in his eyes. "Go ahead, spit it out! Let's all listen to what she has to say. After all, maybe she knows what she's talking about, right?" As I heard Tullius laugh, the other Imperials laughed with him, before he got in my face the same way that he did with Ulfric. "Or maybe, she doesn't know a damned thing about what's really going on here. Am I right, prisoner?"

Gritting my teeth with a forced smile, I refused to even flinch. If there's one thing I hate, it's people acting like I don't know anything... and General Teletubby just crossed that line.

"Alright, Servius!" I spit back. "Let me tell you everything about this war that you don't know. In the Great War, the Third Aldmeri Dominion were aggressors against the Third Empire for racial supremacy. From the get-go, the Aldmeri Dominion saw themselves as vastly superior to any non-elven race, due to longevity, religion and natural knowledge in the arcane world. And who knows? Maybe that would've been true, had it not been for the Psijic Order packing up Artaeum and getting the fuck outta Dodge. The truth of the matter is, Valenwood and Elsweyr were gone to the Thalmor. Black Marsh gave its chips to Imperial rule after the Oblivion Crisis shit hit the fan. Morrowind was still getting back up after Red Mountain went Kaboom, and Hammerfell was getting their teeth kicked in inland by the Crowns and Forebears, which they asked for aid and you gave them chump change. High Rock, Cyrodiil, and Skyrim were the only ones keeping their swords sheathed at the time. Year 171 of the Fourth Era, thirtieth of Frostfall, your AD 'buddies' back behind me, giving me the stink eye and wanting to cut out my tongue, sent an ambassador to Titus the second with a cart full of one hundred severed heads that belonged to the Blades from Summerset and Valenwood, and gave an ultimatum for the Blades to disband, Talos to stop being worshipped, and for the Empire to practically give the majority of Hammerfell to them. That's what started the fucking war, General."

I could see the rage, confusion, surprise and disbelief in Tullius' eyes as I spoke, but I could care less as I continued. Everyone stayed silent around me, as I went on my rant, and I was loving every minute of it.

"You wanna know why the Aldmeri wanted the Blades gone? Because the Blades were the Empire's best and most loyal defense when shit got real. You wanna know why the Aldmeri wanted Talos to stop being worshipped? Because he's literally a man-made god, and the belief in Talos makes all of the human races stronger. They gave the empire an ultimatum designed to weaken and enslave the human race, so that elves could forever be superior. Now, does that mean that I think Elves should be segregated, and hated by human races? Does that mean that I believe in everything the Stormcloaks are selling? Hell no. I believe that in order to return to former power and peace, everyone needs to chill the fuck out, band together, and quit worrying about who is superior. So when I look you in the eyes, Servius, know that I'm telling you the gods honest truth; Siding with the Thalmor is only going to shoot you in the foot and make the human race no better than the Falmer, being tricked by the Dwemer to be nothing but blind slaves starving in a cave somewhere. So, have I educated you yet, Servius?? Because in five more seconds, none of this is gonna matter anyway."

Tullius blinked in complete exhasperation, but regained his composure long enough to ask, "And why is that?"

Right about that time, a familiar crashing rumble was heard as debris fell from the tower behind the General, and someone cried out the words I've been dying to hear:

"Dragon!!"