Behold! A new brainchild that decided it was more important than my already existing ideas! Don't worry, though. I am working on Chaper 5 of Sabito's Second Chance, so that's something you can expect at some point if midterms don't decide to kill me! Anyway, if you happen to catch any silly grammar or spelling errors I may have missed, let me know, and I hope y'all like this! It's mildly inspired by some of my previous unfinished Skyrim playthroughs.

Also, as a disclaimer, Skyrim is not mine! It is Bethesda's!

Chapter 1: An Interrupted Execution

Waking up in rags with her hands tied, sitting in the back of an Imperial Prison cart on the way to an execution had not been on Valen's to-do list for the day.

Well, it had not been in her life plans in general, but clearly the Divines didn't care because waking up as an Imperial prisoner was exactly what her life decided it was going to do that day.

She groaned softly as awareness gradually returned to her. Why did her head hurt so much?

Oh, right, she remembered. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had gotten caught in the Imperial Legion's ambush alongside a pair of thieves trying to cross the border for a reason she didn't know. That ambush had actually been meant for a group of Stormcloaks who had arrived mere moments after them, and it wasn't long after that encounter began that she was caught off guard by a blow to the head, and her world went black.

Ugh.

A dash of the iconic Stormcloak Navy catches her eye. Ah, wonderful. It appears she is now prison cart mates with a few of those very Stormcloaks. How delightful!

"Hey, you, Bosmer girl. You're finally awake."

She raises her head, her eyes finally adjusted to the light, and she meets eyes with the Stormcloak who was speaking to her. He was, as she liked to call it, the epitome of Nordic manliness: shoulder-length blond hair, blue eyes, muscular body, and a rugged beard. He seemed friendly enough. Though, she wasn't sure whether it was because he was genuinely a nice person, or if it was because they were both stuck in the same shitty situation and he wanted to pass the time somewhat entertained until they arrived at their destination.

Not that it mattered much, she thought. At the very least, the conversation will keep boredom at bay for a little bit longer.

"I suppose I am." she responds, "I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but the situation is not all that pleasurable. May I have your name? I'm Valen."

"Valen..." The Nord seems to contemplate the name for a moment before he responded, "I am Ralof, of Riverwood. Are you perhaps named after your homeland?"

She nods, a small twinge of pride filling her as she answered, "Yes. My family traveled often, so my mother wanted me to have something to remember my origins by, and what better reminder than a name?"

Ralof huffed out a laugh, "That's as sound an explanation as any. A real shame you were caught in that Imperial ambush. You seem like an interesting one."

She was about to respond when a pained groan came from her right. She turned to see who it was, and she was met with the confused expression of one of the two thieves she had run into earlier -this specific one having been quite literally. The Breton horse thief was beside Ralof, and he had been mumbling himself into a panic for the entirety of her conversation with the blond man. The thief beside her was a blue-eyed, rugged-bearded Nord like Ralof, but with red hair that was partially tied back.

"What the..." he muttered in confusion, likely not yet realizing he had company.

"A delightful morning to you, too." Valen said, bringing the man out of his musings as he finally realized he wasn't alone.

He stared at her, then at Ralof and the horse thief, "What in the name of the Divines happened?" he asked.

Valen allowed Ralof to fill the man in as she tuned out the conversation in favor of observing the final occupant in their cart, another Nord, who was for some reason gagged unlike the rest of them, and who was also dressed much more elaborately, too. He was likely someone of high status, and someone who was on the side of the Stormcloaks...

Taking in all those details, she developed a decent guess of who this man was.

Apparently so did the horse thief who sat beside Ralof. "Y-you're... Ulfric Stormcloak? Jarl of Windhelm? The leader of the Rebellion?! If they got you... Divines... Where are they taking us?!"

The guard driving their cart did not seem to like the fact that his riders had suddenly gotten chattier. "Shut up back there!" he yelled back, and Valen promptly ignored him. She was nothing if not a little petty.

She turned to the horse thief. "I'm going to guess our destination is beyond the upcoming walls." they were getting quite close if that was the case. She turned to the red-haired Nord. "So... who are you, stranger?" she asked.

The man blinked, apparently startled at the sudden address, "I'm Halfdan, of Dragon Bridge. I don't believe we were introduced, Ma'am."

Huh, a polite one. What a rarity! She almost laughed. Never in her life had she ever been referred to as 'Ma'am', and while it was rather flattering, it also felt rather strange to be called such a term. "I'm Valen. It's a pleasure." She turned to the Breton thief. "You're the only one left unnamed now, mister horse thief. Care to share with the rest of us?"

The man was fidgeting, looking more nervous and defensive by the second, "Why do you want to know?"

She shrugged, "I can't call you 'horse thief' forever now, can I? Besides, while I'm not particularly fond of dying, there doesn't seem to be a way out of this, and I'd rather spend my last moments among people I know, even if all I really know are your names."

That was clearly not reassuring to the Breton, but he ultimately relented, "I'm Lokir. I-..." he sighed, "I'm from Rorikstead."

Valen had no idea where Rorikstead was. She had only entered Skyrim's borders about a day ago, after all. However, she did not think it was particularly important, anyway. After all, they had just passed the gate of the town. Her eyes caught sight of an armored Imperial, who Ralof ended up unofficially introducing as General Tulius. The man was on horseback, and seemed deep in conversation with some members of the Thalmor Embassy

Ralof sent the Thalmor a look of distaste before he took in the sight of the settlement around them, his gaze turning a little more nostalgic. "Ah, Helgen." he chuckled wryly, "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if she still makes that mead with juniper berries in it..."

Well, at least Valen had a name for her final destination, now. She left Ralof and the others to their musings as she took in the sights. Outside of the Keep, and the sturdy walls, there wasn't much to see, to be honest. There was a little boy being scolded by his father, who was quickly shooed inside, though. That was probably for the best, to be honest, Valen thought. If they were headed towards an execution like she thought they were, then she wouldn't want a child to be watching the gruesome sight, either.

The cart finally pulled to a stop, and Lokir was now panicking even more. It looked like a rather pathetic sight, to be honest. He was rambling and babbling about how they weren't rebels, and how everything was all a misunderstanding. Did he really believe that the Empire cared about that? Even if he wasn't a rebel, he was still a criminal.

Apparently Ralof was sharing some similar thoughts to her, as he snapped moments later, "Face your death with some courage, thief!"

Thank you, Ralof, she thought. Jumping down from the carriage steps, she joined the crowd of other prisoners gathered around a Legate and a man with a list who appeared to be similar in age to Ralof and Halfdan.

Names were being called, now. Ulfric was among the first, followed soon after by Ralof, then Lokir...

Who apparently was not going to face his death with courage. She sighed in disappointment as he made an attempt to run, and was promptly shot down. Idiot.

It wasn't long until her and Halfdan were the only ones remaining. The man was staring at them in confusion, "And who... are you two? You're not on the list."

Well then, she thought. If she's going to die, she's going to get some entertainment before she does so. She bats her eyes at the man and sends an 'innocent' smile his way, "Is it not rude to ask for a lady's name without introducing yourself first, my good sir?" As she spoke, Halfdan sent her a look of exasperation that did not need much translation. He was clearly wondering if she was insane.

The man with the book, meanwhile, stared at her with the sort of tired look that suggested he had long since forgotten what sleep was, and he responded in a strained deadpan, "I am Hadvar. Now state your name, prisoner."

"Valen."

"And you are from?"

"Falinesti, in Valenwood."

Hadvar jotted that down in his book and turned to Halfdan, who was ultimately a lot more cooperative with the questions.

"Enough chatter. To the block, prisoners!" the legate barked, and Valen rolled her eyes as she made her way to the execution grounds where everyone else was waiting.

Valen and Halfdan took their places beside Ralof as General Tulius gave his little victory speech to Ulfric Stormcloak. Valen listened on in mild interest as the crimes were listed. Using his voice to kill? How fascinating! There wasn't anything else of interest that followed this speech, though; it was just the priestess stating their rights.

Fortunately, a red-haired Stormcloak, not Halfdan, cut the priestess off, so Valen was spared any further boredom as she waited her turn. It appears they were finally getting to the actual execution. And oh my did the volunteer have balls of steel. He even told them to get on with it!

Valen couldn't help but respect the man for that. It was a real shame that his head was now resting in a wooden casket.

The legate called for Halfdan next, and the man was about to make his way over when a loud cry seemed to echoed through the sky.

Valen tensed, suddenly uneasy. That had not sounded good. And it also sounded rather close, too... The legate was unbothered, though. "Next. Prisoner." she growled through gritted teeth, "To the block."

Halfdan turned to Valen, "I will see you later, I suppose."

She huffed out a wry laugh. "Indeed." she muttered as the man made his way to the chopping block and was brought to his knees. Another, much louder, cry made its way through the skies, and Valen had a feeling that something really unpleasant was about to happen.

Naturally, she was right.

"WHAT IS THAT!?"

"DIVINES!"

"Talos save us!"

"Soldiers, what do you see!?"

Cries of panic filled the area as a giant, flying figure circled around the nearby mountain. It got closer, and closer, until it landed on the Keep in all of its terrifying glory.

The ground shuddered, knocking many off balance. The legate called for archers, but the arrows ultimately did little against the creature's tough, black hide. It looked down upon them with glowing red eyes filled with vicious promises of doom. To it, they were probably nothing but insects, and it screeched out a deafening sound that darkened the sky and shook the earth once more.

Walls crumbled, people flew from their spots, houses were obliterated and started to burn. Valen found herself momentarily frozen stiff, no longer focused on finding amusement in her situation as she stared in horror at the creature before them.

Akatosh's unholy loincloth, she thought. It was a bloody dragon.

And that is Chapter 1! Let me know if you have any constructive criticism. Hopefully, Chapter 2 doesn't take me forever!

Thank you for reading, and stay safe out there!