Chapter 1: Unbound, yet Bound by Destiny

Hiya everybody! It has been such a long time since I last posted anything and saw your lovely reviews! I know, I know, but college life mixed with having a job leaves little to no time for the pursuit of hobbies and writing stories. That should be changing shortly into the future. Take this first new chapter as a promise of that.

This story is a crossover between the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and the Harry Potter book series, where our beloved Boy-Who-Lived finds himself in the world of the Elder Scrolls, which is much more closely linked with Earth than everyone knows, though I won't be elaborating for at least a couple dozen chapters, so don't ask. As a starting off information of how Harry ends up in Skyrim, well, in this he pushes Sirius out of way of big bad Bellatrix's curse and ends up in the Veil instead, which is actually an ancient Oblivion Gate, where he garners the attention of Akatosh.

Now then, have fun reading!

Department of Mysteries, 20 May 1996

"SIRIUS NO!" Harry roared as he rushed towards his godfather as the accursed, oh so familiar green light began to leave Bellatrix's wand in the Black's direction.

"Harry stop!" Remus exclaimed as he reached out to snatch the arm of his former student, Harry nimbly avoiding the werewolf's powerful grasp as he bolted up the large boulder that held the strange veil at the top of it. The very same veil that Sirius was launching spells from in front of.

"Harry!?" Sirius exclaimed as he launched Malfoy back with a stinging hex to the face, turning his surprised greys towards his scrambling godson. "What are you-!?" His voice became muted as he was suddenly pushed aside by the terrified young man.

All fighting in the chamber came to a screeching halt as the killing curse wrapped Harry in its embrace, both Death Eaters, Order members and students stopping at the sight. "H-Harry!?" Sirius' voice trembled in fear as he looked up at his godson from his position on the ground as the boy simply stood there for a moment much to everyone's confusion, before his green eyes slowly rolled up in their sockets and his eyelids fluttered closed. As he fell backwards, the Veil itself seemed to wrap around him in an embracing motion, drawing him further into the gateway.

"HARRY!" Sirius screamed as he bolted towards his falling godson, only for his grasp to catch nothing but air as the Boy-Who-Lived vanished. Anything else he was going to say was cut off by the roar of the Dark Lord, which was filled with a soul-rending pain, cutting off any mad gloating Bellatrix was prepared to deliver for her part in killing her Lord's enemy.

Somewhere Unknown

The tired teenager opened his eyes a few minutes after being struck by Bellatrix's deadly curse to find himself floating in the middle of a black void. When he turned his gaze down upon feeling cool air blow across his nether regions, he found a peculiar thing.

He was naked.

He was naked and floating in some sort of void when he had been standing, clothed, in the Department of Mysteries not mere moments before. Where was he?

"Not exactly what I was expecting when I got up today." A female voice said from behind him while he searched for something, anything, in the void, making Harry turn his head to look at the young woman that had appeared behind him. "It's much too soon to meet you Harry Potter."

She was a beautiful teenaged girl with golden hair that had twin tails bound closely on the side of her head, while still letting her hair flow down her back. Her ruby colored eyes held a hint of confusion about them. She was wearing a form of black robes with skull and bones motifs scattered across its surface.

"And you are?" Harry asked as he took a deep breath to calm himself after taking notice that he was wrong about his initial assumption of her being a normal girl. Normal girls did not stand as tall as skyscrapers looking down at you while you floated before them.

"I am Ereshkigal." The woman said with a quirked eyebrow as she looked his tiny form up and down. "In the time of Mesopotamia, I was known as the Goddess of Kur, or the Underworld. But I am merely one of the many facets of Death."

While such a thing would normally leave the young wizard speechless, he found himself too tired from the events of today to even show surprise at meeting an ancient goddess, or the fact that apparently the Christian God wasn't the only deity in the world like was claimed by the Church. "Is this to be my afterlife?" He asked as he took a look around at the rocky spires of the truly massive cave he found himself in, he could now see massive cages filled with blue lights all around him and far away now that his eyes had grown used to the gloom.

"Not in the slightest, no," Ereshkigal commented as she conjured up a bench from the ground, the cage-like form it took merely warranting a cocked eyebrow from Harry in interest. She patted the seat next to him, and the scenery around them changed into a world of ragged stones and darkness as he sat. "I'm afraid that you won't have the chance to move on quite just yet, after all, the world still needs your services."

"What would that be?" Harry asked tiredly, first the prophecy to defeat Voldemort that he found out Dumbledore had been keeping from him, and now this.

"You see." Ereshkigal began as she motioned with her fingers and Harry's body floated forward. "While there is a prophecy in effect about your so-called Dark Lord, which currently every aspect of Death has a hardon to grab by the soul and completely eradicate him from existence after putting him through the worst Hades' fields of punishment have to offer of given the fact he spat in our faces with his horcruxes. It is not technically your prophecy. The prophecy that foretells your coming is one much older than even your precious Ministries were even thought of as a mere concept. And is very unlikely to be able to be recorded by them in those silly spheres."

Harry's attention was stolen away from wondering what the hell a horcrux was as a pale whisp of flame floated past them, Harry idly noting that there was a person nearly his size inside the bore a twin-like resemblance to Ereshkigal, but with black hair, the person seemed to be shouting at her colossal twin, but he could hear nothing from it. "So? What does this mean for me? Aren't I dead now?"

"Yes, and no." She continued. "Prophecy or not, if you had been a deplorable person like Voldemort, I wouldn't even be considering humoring that oversized dragon's request. You wouldn't have gotten this chance at surviving yet another killing curse and would have been dropped straight into one of my cages for the rest of Eternity. However, given that you are not in fact such a person and you gave up your chance at life in order to save another, you are getting such that chance."

"This prophecy you've been talking about is going to give me a headache isn't it?"

Ereshkigal gently smiled at the young man in answer. "What would I expect in taking this path?" He asked, shifting his tired eyes back to the expanse before him.

Ereshkigal flashed him a smile that made him confused about the sadness he could see behind it, "Even if I told you what you were in for, you wouldn't be able to remember it once you awaken. Akatosh needs a blank slate to be his hero, while still keeping the fundamentals that make you Harry Potter." Immediately after her words before he could ask the goddess who this Akatosh was, he could feel himself growing smaller and smaller as his body slowly disappeared.

"He is never going to know peace, is he?" The goddess asked the area around her after her charge completely vanished. "No, he will not. But that has always been his destiny ever since I used up the last of my power to create his soul." A deep, rumbling voice eons older than her spoke out from the abyss. "While I would like nothing more than to give him a hero's rest, his tasks are not over yet. And truth be told, will probably never be finished with as long as he lives."

Ereshkigal sighed as the presence that was so ancient as to surpass her existence faded away, hoping she hadn't just condemned the young hero to a lifetime of misery.

Sundas, 17th Last Seed, 4E 201

When he opened his eyes again, it was to too bright surroundings that forced them to close once again and take time to focus. The shaking of his body, the sounds of wheels running over rocks and the clopping of a horse's hooves were the first clues that he had that he was in a carriage.

But… Where was he? What day was it?

And most importantly. Who was he?

The name Harry came to him, making him blink slightly at the name. So, he was named Harry? Sounded a bit drole. Even the word drole sounded like a better name than a symptom of being hairy.

Opening his green eyes once again, he concentrated on the driver of the carriage. He was a soldier of some sort, dressed in a set of light brown armor with a red cape covering his back, a strange dragon insignia placed in the middle.

When he looked towards the back, past the other men in the carriage with him, bound by the hands in the same manner he himself found himself when he twitched his wrists, he could see another soldier following behind on horseback.

Turning to look forward again, he could see that the carriage in front of this one was full of soldiers similar to the man across from him with their hands bound together. At the head of this parade was a man that he took to believe was high-ranking based on the cleaner, and nicer armor he wore.

Harry found himself startled out of his contemplation of the rank and file by the man sitting opposite of him, who said, "Hey, you. You're finally awake."

Startled eyes turned to look at the man that had spoken. Information flowing into his mind about the man. A Nord? What the fuck was a Nord?

He was a soldier dressed as those in the other carriage, with blond hair that flowed down to the nape of his neck and had a braid running down the left side of his head. His hands were bound in the same fashion as Harry's. Harry sent a quick look down at his own attire, only to find clothes that barely rated as rags and there was no sign of him being a soldier like the man before him. But his hands were also bound, and Harry was in the same carriage. So, was he one? Was he here for another reason? And what was that reason?

Apart from the ragged shirt and pants, the only thing he was wearing was a strange pendant. Harry could feel the metal of the pendant against his chest, but it was under his tunic, and Harry could not get to it with his bound hands in order to see what it was.

The man continued on despite Harry's non-answer, "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

Harry turned to look at the thief next to the Nord. His hands were also bound, and his clothing was not much better than Harry's. He was smaller in physique than their fellow prisoners.

"Damn you, Stormcloaks!" He exclaimed angrily. "Skyrim was fine until you came along, the Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." The thief looked at Harry, "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

So, these soldiers are Stormcloaks and the men that were holding them prisoner were the Empire. Imperials. That would be useful information to learn what was going on later.

The Stormcloak sneered to the thief, "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

The Imperial soldier driving the carriage had clearly become annoyed by their conversation and yelled back at them to shut up. That shouted order earned a few seconds of silence, before the thief turned to look at the fourth person aboard the carriage, who Harry had been ignoring so far due to a feeling of unease he was getting from him. He was a large man, taller than his fellow Nord. He had a beak of a nose that had been broken several times from its crooked shape. The glare he directed at the thief told Harry much about his personality and station. It was apparent he was an authority figure, and he did not like the thief even talking to him without permission. His bear-shaped, heavy plate armor suggested he was of high rank within the Stormcloaks. Growls issued from the man that were enough to express his contempt for his fellow passenger.

"What is wrong with him, huh?"

The man across from Harry snapped at the thief angrily, "Watch your tongue, thief! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak! The true High King."

The thief stared horrified at the now named Ulfric, "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm!? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us!?"

"This road leads to Helgen," the Stormcloak muttered sadly as he gained a wistful look on his face. "I used to visit it a lot when I was a kid in Riverwood. I don't know where we're going past that, but Sovngarde awaits all of us."

'Sovngarde?'

The realization of his coming execution clearly terrified the thief, "No, this can't be happening. This can't be happening."

The prisoners fell silent as each member contemplated the fate that awaited them all. Harry most of all feeling confusion, because he couldn't imagine what he'd done to earn such a fate. In fact, he couldn't remember anything past his own name and a few minutes ago. Was he going to be executed alongside these soldiers? For what crime? Was being in the same vicinity as the Stormcloaks enough for this Empire to kill a man?

"What are your names?" Harry asked, breaking the tense silence as he tried to find sense in the world, wincing at the sore feeling in his throat that made it feel like he hadn't used his voice in years.

"I am Ralof, born of Riverwood, just down the hill from here." The Stormcloak answered before motioning at the Jarl. "As I mentioned. That is Jarl Ulfric, the true High King of Skyrim."

"I am Lokir of Rorikstead." The thief commented, terror-filled eyes flitting from the back of the carriage to the soldier riding behind them.

Harry blinked at the names, "Where were we captured?"

"You don't know?" Ralof asked, surprise on his face as he looked closer at the man before him, eyes appraising him anew.

"I don't remember anything before waking up in this seat," Harry groaned as he pressed his hands to his forehead. "I think my name is Harry, but other than that I know nothing."

"They captured these Rebel bastards at Darkwater Crossing." Lokir supplied helpfully, balking again at another glare from the Jarl. "The Legion set a trap for us and basically swept everyone that was in the area up in their net, whether they were with us or not." Ralof commented after a short glare towards the thief for the comment about the rebels. "Though I don't recall seeing you with us at the outpost they were keeping us in."

"What did you mean when you said I was trying to cross a border? What border?"

"There are smuggler entrances between Skyrim and Cyrodiil in the mountains to the south of us," Lokir butted in, his knowledge probably from his own attempt to flee Skyrim. "I know of one that enters near Darkwater Crossing, and it was the one I intended to use to get away from this stupid war."

"I just assumed you were crossing the border, because you look more like an Imperial than a Nord." Ralof added, a slight abashed blush on his face as he scratched the side of his head. "Though I could be wrong. Afterall, Hadvar back there has an Imperial mother, but looks more like his Nord pops."

Harry looked back at the soldier following their carriage, coming to the correct assumption that the two knew each other, especially with the annoyed look Hadvar threw Ralof when he heard his name.

"He might be a citizen of Skyrim." Lokir commented as he looked Harry up and down, trying to figure him out. "Afterall, Skyrim is home to not just the Nords, but also the Bretons of the Reach, and I know of a dark elf that was born here following the refugees arriving. He was probably in the wrong place at the wrong time, maybe coming up the road behind the ambush and was caught by soldiers that thought he was a backward scout of the Stormcloaks."

"How long were we in Darkwater Crossing?"

"I'd say we were captured on the twelfth, but we were there for a few days due to the bastards waiting for Tullius to show up," Ralof answered, while pointing up towards the important looking man at the front of the group. "He's the Governor-General of Skyrim under the Empire. And commands the Legions here in Skyrim."

"The twelfth of what month?" Harry asked, still confused. "What is the year? And today?"

"You aren't pulling our legs at all are you?" Lokir asked in shock as he saw the look of utter confusion on Harry's face. "We were captured on the morning of the twelfth of Last Seed. And it is the two-hundredth and first year of the Fourth Era. Today is the seventeenth of the Last Seed. We left the Crossing this morning just before dawn."

"Did any of you see me at Darkwater? Or speak to me before now?" Harry asked.

"No…" The Stormcloak and Theif echoed in confusion, clearly trying to wrap their minds around the fact that they couldn't remember the man being with them before now. The Jarl just stared at him with a look of contempt, probably judging Harry to be an imperial like his subordinate had previously, though he did shake his head in the negative.

"When you were waking up is the first time, I've seen you actually…" Ralof commented, confusion clear in voice and face.

"Then he might be an innocent!" Lokir cried out, cowering when the driver snarled at the noise, before motioning to himself. "As for myself, the Imperials didn't catch me in the act of stealing my horse! And I certainly didn't have stolen goods when they caught me in the ambush. Come to think of it, I haven't seen a magistrate at all in the days we've been held which is the usual thing for thieves. I should at most be on my way to Whiterun for a couple weeks in the dungeons."

"I think they simply rounded up anybody that wasn't a resident of Darkwater Crossing," Ralof added his own two cents. "Neither you or the thief were wearing our uniforms or colors resembling them."

"So, we clearly aren't Stormcloaks," Harry said as he looked around them, catching even Ulfric's interest in this turn of events. "We haven't received a trial and no charges have been given to us outside of Lokir's horse theft." He motioned to Lokir at this. "I have no knowledge of the Stormcloaks, and I didn't even know I was in Skyrim until mere moments ago when Lokir mentioned the smuggling routes entering the country. I don't know how this Empire is supposed to be acting. But shouldn't they be following the law?"

"This is war, sadly," Ralof said as he looked down at his bound hands and the back of the Imperial driver. "The law hasn't really made sense like it used to since the Great War ended with those shitty elves' victory and the Rebellion began. Especially with those blasted Thalmor running about snatching good and decent folk up simply because they worship Talos."

"Thalmor?" Harry asked in confusion. "If these guys are kidnapping people, shouldn't the Empire be doing something about them instead of this?"

"Ha, you might not remember your own name and what has been happening, but it looks like you're a good man." Lokir and Ralof agreed with nods. "Unfortunately, the Thalmor are in charge of the Empire after they took the Imperial City and made that bastard Emperor Mede change everything with their shitty White-Gold Concordant. As far as the Empire is concerned, those elven shits are above the law."

He wasn't going to argue with the Stormcloak since he had no foundation with which to support his argument against that. After all, he had no knowledge of what he himself had done to end up here.

The carriage ride finally fell silent much to the driver's enjoyment as they steadily approached the walls of a town, rumbling down a hill. Nothing was familiar about what Harry laid his eyes on, meaning he truly didn't know where he was.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" Came a shout from the town gates towards the general at the front. Harry could see Tulius nod in acceptance, "Good. Let's get this over with."

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh!" Lokir began begging to his gods. "Divines, please help me!"

"The gods can't help you here, Lokir." Harry said with a consoling look at the thief. "If they truly wanted to stop this injustice, then they would have taken us from here by now."

The carriage riders took notice of Tullius riding off to the right of the entrance, while they continued on to the left, and Harry could see the man speaking to some outlandish people that Harry assumed were the Thalmor Ralof mentioned, they certainly looked like what he thought elves would be.

As the prisoners passed them, Ralof spoke up with a considerable amount of contempt for the Governor, "General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

The caravan slowly made its way through the streets of Helgen, Legionnaires and citizens alike lined along the route to stare and gawk at the Stormcloaks and two extras.

"This is Helgen." Ralof spoke wistfully, "I used to be sweet on a girl from here before I left to join the Stormcloaks. I wonder if Vilod is still making that horrible mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

"Who are they, daddy?" Harry turned to look at the source of the voice, finding a young boy, no older than ten sitting on the porch of a large building, his face turned towards and older man, who Harry assumed was his father. "Where are they going?"

His father backed up from his position at the rails and motioned for his son to go back inside the building, clearly understanding what was about to happen, "You need to go inside, little cub."

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers."

"Inside the house. Now!"

Surprise by his father's shout, the boy ran inside the building.

It was difficult to tell where the allegiances of the civilians watching lay. Harry could tell that it was wise to remain as neutral as possible until your hand is forced, especially if your views leaned towards the rebellion while you had such a large Imperial presence in the town.

The driver pulled on the reins stopping the horse with a neigh just before it collided with the wall while a woman wearing a heavier uniform than the driver stepped for from the archway near them, calling for the prisoners to line up. Said prisoners almost toppled onto each other with Ulfric's clear disdain at the momentum.

"Why are we stopping?"

"Why do you think?" Ralof answered the thief. "End of the line."

Lokir paled and began pleading as the call for the prisoners to step down was called, "No! Wait! We're not rebels!"

Ralof told Lokir comfortingly, but with conviction, "Face your death with some courage."

The loud and officious woman yelled out, "Get these prisoners out of the carts now! Move it!"

"Let's go. We shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."

Harry stood and waited for Ulfric and Lokir to disembark, with Ralof following him as he stepped down. In the lineup, Harry was third with Ralof just behind him. Hadvar came to stand next to the captain. He was handed a quill and ledger by another soldier, who was already moving towards the other cart with his own set.

Now standing, the group seemed to realize just how tall Harry was, the young man standing just slightly taller than Ulfric, and nearly a full head higher than Ralof and Lokir. He himself looked down at his tall body, getting a strange sense that he should have been shorter by at least a full foot.

The latter of the two turned to plead with Ralof and Ulfric, "You guys have got to tell them! We weren't with you! This whole thing is a mistake!"

The captain growled at the thief with a clear look of disdainful authority, "Shut up and step towards the block when we call your name! One at a time."

Ralof grunted in annoyance, "The Empire loves their damn lists!"

"One at a time?" Harry asked with a quirked eyebrow. "Does she think we are all going to just rush at the headsman and our deaths at the same time?"

Ralof let out a barking laugh at his quip, the man's somber mood slightly lifted, only to fall again when Hadvar called out, "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm."

Ulfric glared at the Imperials, but did not hesitate to move away and walked with a royal dignity towards his death. Harry still didn't see the reason for the man to have a gag while all the others didn't have one. Shouldn't he have a chance to say his last words before being made a head shorter?

"It has been an honor to serve with you, Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof cried after the man, his fellow Stormcloaks in the other lineup clearly agreeing with him. As Ulfric came to stand before Tullius, Hadvar spoke again, "Ralof of Riverwood."

Ralof walked towards the block and gave a silent glare at his childhood friend.

When Ralof was halfway to the blocks, the list continued, coming to the two non-Stormcloaks, "Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No wait! Please! I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" Panicking, Lokir barged straight past the captain, who he managed to knock down much to her shrieking annoyance, and down the street towards the entrance.

"Halt! Come back here you piece of shit!" She screamed after him as she rose back up. Of course, Lokir ignored her and kept running in favor of not having his head removed. "You're not going to kill me!"

"Archers!" The captain shouted, Harry noticing that Tullius was watching the proceedings with a cool eye, clearly not impressed with the captain's grandstanding. Lokir of course ran like the hounds of hell were after him, but it wasn't enough as two archers let lose their arrows, making him scream when the arrows imbedded into his back with an audible thump, one severing his spine. He fell forward, dead before his face struck the ground with a spray of blood from his nose breaking upon the ground. His corpse slid a couple feet from momentum, before he finally was still.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The captain sneered as she turned to look at the last man in line, which was Harry, balking slightly when the taller person fixed her with a cold stare that made his green eyes seem like jaded emeralds.

"What a coward!"

Rage filled Harry at those words and he openly snarled, his voice booming out and causing everyone around him to shrink back away from his wrath, "Whoever just called Lokir a coward is a fool and I will strike you down if I hear another word condemning him! He was not afraid of the prospect of the executioner's axe! He was afraid of the injustice inflicted upon him by the Legion! He and I have been given no trial! Convicted of no crimes! The Empire should be defending our rights, not sending us to die for crimes that we have yet to hear. We are not Stormcloaks and he did what he could to take his life's end into his own hands rather than meekly march to the block! He should be admired for having the courage to die his own way!"

A stunned silence filled the town and Harry could see Tullius and Ulfric both looking at him with appraising eyes. Ralof simply sent Harry a happy smile for his defense of their late friend.

The captain snorted disdainfully at Harry, making the tall man glare down at her with eyes that clearly said he'd rip her head off if he had the chance, before she turned to stare pointedly at Hadvar. He looked at the last prisoner and continued his list after shaking off his shock at the raw charisma in Harry's speech, "You there. Step forward."

Harry complied, before he stood still directly in front of Hadvar, willfully drawing the captain's ire when she realized he was completely ignoring her.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Harry." He said smoothly, before cocking an eyebrow at the list in the man's hand. "Surely you have me on there if I was meant to be in that cart. Afterall, there are only eight prisoners."

"Captain Praxeda, he's not on the list." Hadvar told his superior as he scanned the list, his eyes widening when he realized there were only seven names. "There are only seven people that were supposed to be here."

"Forget the list." Praxeda snipped as she held a glare at Harry's head for the disrespect, he'd shown her since she first arrived. "He's going to the block like the rest of them!"

"On what charge?" Harry growled out, only Hadvar really noticing that all eyes were now on their little group, especially now that all the Stormcloaks were lined up. "Shouldn't we all know what my crime is? Surely if I was meant to be here, my name and conviction would be recorded on that list."

"Captain, he isn't on either list!" Hadvar protested alongside him after motioning the other list holding soldier over. He fell silent when the captain sent him a dark glare.

"I thank you for trying soldier," Harry said, catching everyone's attention. "But we both know why I'm about to be a head shorter, don't we?"

"What?"

"Because our dear captain is grandstanding for the general over there, she's eager to suck his dick to get promoted after all," Harry snarked at Hadvar's confusion. "If we continue to discuss the lack of my name on your list and the lack of my crime being listed, as well as the lengthy discussion it would take to find out why I am even here, then it would stop General Tullius from being in more essential places. So in order to make herself look good before her boss so that she could get a nice promotion, our good captain expects me to walk over to that block and meekly place my neck to be sheered by the headman's axe."

"Will you…?" Hadvar asked, a little subdued as he snuck a glance at his captain when she didn't object to the man's accusations.

"Something tells me that I will either die in the dirt or with my head lying in a basket if we take up too much of such an important woman's time." Harry sneered at the woman, getting a growl from her. "I feel my head will be more comfortable in a basket rather than bouncing about on the cobblestones."

Hadvar sighed, clearly debating what he was going to report to the captain's superiors, clearly not liking this course of action considering that this man was probably innocent. Especially since he wasn't on the list of designated prisoners, hell, even the thief that had been shot down shouldn't have been marched to the block like this considering that all he stole was a horse. "For what it is worth, I am sorry. What is your name and hometown?"

"I do not know what my name is, or where I am from. All I remember is waking up in the back of a carriage half an hour ago." Harry said calmly. "You can call me whatever you wish. As far as I know, my home is Skyrim. Just make sure that my head is buried with me."

"I will."

Harry turned to the garrison captain, "As for you Captain Praxeda." The woman looked over at him with a loathing eye. "I don't think the gods care about what rank you've achieved in the Legion before you died. You will be judged by the god of death and found wanting for the innocents you have killed, today and any day, over the course of your career. I truly fear for the Empire should you gain any form of prestige from today."

Hadvar sighed as he moved forward, using his body to interpose himself between his captain and the prisoner, clearly seeing her struggle to reach for her sword. "Make your way to the block, please. I will personally see that your remains are treated with respect and given the full rights by the Priesthood of Arkay."

Harry nodded to Hadvar and followed the captain to the block, smirking at her haste and eagerness that led her to almost running to the position. She shouldn't have bothered, because Tullius clearly wasn't impressed with her conduct, and he turned to face the leader of the rebellion. "Ulfric Stormcloak, some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Thu'um to murder his king and usurp the throne."

"The hell is the Thu'um?" Harry muttered, confusion as he heard the familiar, yet unfamiliar topic, his mind translating it as the Voice in response to his inquiry. 'He murdered the king of this land. And all for a throne?'

His internal dialogue was interrupted by General Tullius' continued dressing down of Ulfric. "You started this war! Plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now, the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!"

Immediately following his speech, a roar echoed across the valley and mountains, everyone immediately looking towards the sky as a primal terror filled their bodies for a moment. For a moment, Harry thought he could understand something in that roar. It sounded like.

"I AM FREE!"

"What was that?" Hadvar asked seemingly no one.

"It is nothing soldier." Tullius said as he turned to the Imperial soldier standing before the block. "Carry on!"

Captain Praxeda covered her nose even further in shit, most likely envisioning getting a higher rank for her part in this, saluting to the general, "Yes, General Tullius!" She turned to a woman that Harry identified as a priestess and ordered her to give the prisoners their last rights.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessing of the Eight Divines upon you…"

Once more, Harry found his voice becoming heard by all, but it was not by his own action this time. He could feel an immeasurable anger in his breast that he didn't understand the origin of. "THERE ARE NINE DIVINES!"

Everybody, even the Stormcloaks and Imperials, shrank back from him in shock as the words echoed from the walls of Helgen, much resembling the roar heard earlier.

Before the priestess could continue as she recovered from her shock, the look in her eyes clearly showing that she agreed with his words but wasn't going to voice those thoughts, a middle-aged Stormcloak with red hair strode up to the block, "For the love of Talos, just shut up and let's get this over with."

The priestess looked from Harry to the first volunteer, "As you wish."

"Come on you shits, I ain't got all morning!"

He began kneeling down to the block when the captain rudely put her foot on his back and pushed him over, making him choke slightly as his throat hit the block. Hadvar took position before the block to make sure his head ended up in the basket rather than bouncing out. The headsman got a good grip on his axe.

"My ancestors are smiling upon me, Imperials." The soon to be executed man said as he gave a bloody smirk. "Can you say the same?"

The axe lifted high. Blood already covering the wicked blade. Harry wondered who got the chop before they arrived, or if the man simply didn't care to clean it. The instrument of death came down and with an audible thump ending the life of the Stormcloak on the mortal coil.

The head landed neatly in a wooden crate placed before the block. The Stormcloak's body stayed in place for a couple of seconds which was clearly too long for Captain Praxeda, as she unceremoniously and disrespectfully pushed it off the block with her foot, a sneer on her face.

The corpse toppled over to the cobblestones as blood pumped weakly from the headless torso. The red spray encircled the space where the head should be before stopping.

There was a mixture of cheering and jeering from the citizens of Helgen as the captain sneered at the corpse, before disrespectfully spitting at it.

"You Imperial bastards!"

"Justice!"

"Glaven was as fearless in death as he was in life." Ralof said in a form of silent prayer.

Captain Praxeda glared at Harry next, then pointed his way. "Next, the loudmouth!"

"I'm sorry lads and lass, but it looks like I have jumped a few spots in line." Harry quipped. "I'll be happy to hold a spot in Sovngarde for you all if you wish?"

The Stormcloaks laughed but the captain glared at him for stalling. Another roar, much louder and closer than before, echoed throughout the town of Helgen.

All those around looked skyward again. Hadvar spoke up, "There it is again. Did you hear that?"

Praxeda was not going to let some unknown roar interrupt the act of murder that could see her elevated in the eyes of the visiting general, and she growled at him, "I. Said. Next. Prisoner!"

Hadvar grimaced, "To the block, Harry. Nice and easy."

Harry rolled his eyes at the captain and walked up to the block, "You're a good man. I hope you get promoted much sooner than this waste of space." He then looked back over his shoulder at the woman coming up behind him and snarled, "If you put your foot on my back, I will do my best to turn around and rip out your knee with my teeth. My disdain for you is so much I would not be surprised if my severed head tried the same."

He then knelt down and put his neck on the block, ignoring the blood already staining it. He then remarked to Hadvar after getting a look at the red-hair covering Glaven's head, "I don't think my head will fit with his. Please don't let it roll too far."

The headsman looked down at Harry with neutrality and prepared to raise his axe again, Harry could tell that either he didn't care about killing him, or that he was simply desensitized to the act of killing. Just as he prepared his grip and stance for the upswing, a most magnificent sight appeared overhead.

A dragon.

A dragon was approaching, its scales as black as the void that appeared to not even reflect the light of the sun off them, that were outlined with glowing red veins throughout its body.

"What in Oblivion is that?"

Praxeda quickly jumped at another chance to impress her general at his stunned shout and yelled, "Sentries! What do you see?"

"Come put your head where mine is captain." Harry growled out mockingly, "I have a perfect view from here!"

Several voices began screaming about a dragon. The headsman's axe was about to reach its peak when the great beast landed heavily on the top of the tower overlooking the execution. The great gust caused by its mighty wings and the shaking of the earth as it landed knocked the headsman and captain sideways.

The dragon appeared confused as it stared down at Harry and sniffed loudly through his impressive snout. For some reason, he could tell the beast was puzzled by what he saw and smelt.

Then he found his mouth opening again despite not meaning to and words of an eldritch language poured forth, "Sahrot Gein. Pogaan Krosis Nunon Zu'u Nis Alok. Great one. Many apologies, but I cannot rise."

He was concentrating so much on the dragon that he was oblivious to the odd look Ulfric sent Harry as he rushed away from the Imperials. As the dragon surveyed the scene, and as he grew tired of everyone's scurrying, he unleashed a devastating roar that turned the sky from the sunny day to a dark, chaotic nebula of clouds. Water did not fall from the sky, but great rocks! They landed everywhere, crushing man and beast alike.

General Tullius quickly took control of the situation, shouting orders to his troops while the captain screamed and fled, "Guards, get the townspeople to safety!"

The Dovah spoke in a deep voice three words, "FUS RO DAH! Force Balance Push!"

The rising headsman was killed instantly when the blast threw him to the ground again, his own neck severed by his axe and Harry found himself rolling across the ground like a leaf in the wind.

Harry staggered to his feet as the soldiers and guardsmen of the town, those not killed by the dragon, sprang into action and looked around himself. The headsman was dead, his own axe having sheered his head away from his body. Hadvar was busy pulling himself from the ground while the captain was nowhere to be seen. He bet whatever money he found later that the bitch ran away like a coward…

"It won't die!" A soldier cried out, just before he was launched from the walls by a swing of the dragon's tail. "It just keeps coming!" Another cried.

"Harry, quick, follow me!" Ralof shouted from a few feet away, dodging a falling stone. "Come on! The gods won't give us another chance!" He turned and ran towards the entrance of a small tower.

Harry followed him to the inside of the tower as meteors fell all around. In front of the tower was a Legionnaire standing in shocked horror as he stared at the sky, Harry quickly grabbed him and pulled him away from his position right before a meteor could crush him. "Come on soldier!"

The stunned man gave little protest as Harry dragged him through the door despite Ulfric's demand that he leave him behind. Ralof closed the door behind them, Harry could see several wounded and healthy Stormcloaks occupying the small room. Ulfric himself was pressed against the other side of the entrance from Ralof.

"Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof cried out as he flinched away from the shuddering wall next to him when another great stone impacted it. "What is that thing?! Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric snarled, making Harry take notice that he was no longer gagged and that the Stormcloak leader had a deep, baritone voice that seemed to demand respect. Then the man turned to Harry with a look of slight respect. "You spoke to the dragon. Who are you to possess such an ability?"

"As I said on the carriage, I don't know who I am." Harry defended himself when everyone in the room looked at him. "Those words just came out of me; I couldn't control myself."

Ralof looked at him in shock as if he'd figured something out that Harry couldn't understand, Ulfric himself having a look of suspicion on his face. "Dragonborn?" The Stormcloak asked his leader, making Harry frown at the foreign, yet familiar word.

"We need to move!" Ulfric ignored his lieutenant as he narrowly dodged a piece of mortar that fell from the walls. "The dragon watched us enter the tower. He will be coming!"

"Yes, sir!" Ralof saluted, before tugging at Harry's arm. "Come on, we need to head up through the tower!"

Harry followed him with the lone Imperial soldier at his back, the trio climbed up the stairs to the second level landing where a Stormcloak was kneeling and moving some rubble that blocked the stairs up.

It was when the Imperial dropped his sword and rushed to help move the boulders that it happened. The dragon smashed through the wall with his head which caused more masonry to fall and pin the screaming soldiers.

Ralof clearly wanted to help his fellow Stormcloak, but Harry dragged him down the stairs just before a shout filled the air, followed by great flames that incinerated the two. "YOL TOOR SHUL!"

The soldiers didn't even have a chance to scream before their bodies were incinerated in a stream of dragon fire. Satisfied and not noticing Harry and Ralof, the beast flew off in search more prey.

After a moment of waiting for the flames and heat to dissipate, the two of them looked through the hole in the wall to find the Inn they had passed in the carriage burning beneath them.

"I am going to jump down and assess the situation." Harry said as he looked at Ralof. "And I will go inform Jarl Ulfric of the way out and help move the wounded. We will follow when we can. Good luck."

Nodding to him, Harry leapt out. For a moment, Harry was suspended in the burning air, before he landed harshly on his knees and hands on the panels of the Inn's second floor, rolling past a barrel of mead before crashing down through a great hole to the ground floor with a grunt of pain.

Harry found himself staring at a scene of devastation as he limped over to a gaping hole in the wall, holding his side as he moved to escape the inferno. Standing in the open for all to see was the boy that had wanted the watch the soldiers. Harry could see the lad's father laying in the street, the older man imaging the look of horror on the boy's face at the sight of the blood pooling beneath his still alive father.

Behind another building was an elderly Nord and Hadvar, both of whom were trying to coax the boy out of the open, just as the dragon came into to view and prepared to land close to the boy. "Haming, you need to get over here. Now!" Hadvar shouted, startling the boy out of his reverie, which led to him stumbling towards the soldier, just as the dragon landed with a quake before the boy's father.

"That a boy. You're doing great."

The dragon barely looked at the small child before he decided to incinerate the father, who was telling the boy that everything was going to be fine.

'Do dragons have no mercy?'

To Harry's right, Hadvar yelled, breaking his thoughts, "Prisoner, you're still alive!? If you want to stay that way, then stick close with me!"

Harry quickly approached the group. The two elders of the group had weapons drawn and were facing the direction of the dragon. Haming was standing behind them, eyes vacant and clearly in shock at witnessing the gruesome death of his father.

Hadvar turned to the old Nord, "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar."

Harry followed after Hadvar witnessing the once pristine village become crumbled and burning buildings as the dragon burned its way around. Running through a back alley and through a burning house, the two found General Tullius surrounded by several soldiers at the gate the caravan had entered earlier, each one desperately throwing arrows and spells at the circling dragon that had just plucked a man off of the tower.

"Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!" Tullius shouted at Hadvar. To which the man nodded and looked at Harry, "It's you and me, prisoner. Stay close!"

As he followed Hadvar through the streets of Helgen, Harry witnessed soldiers and mages standing their ground and throwing everything they had at the Dovah. Fireballs, lightning bolts and arrows seemed to have no effect on him. Thu'um after deafening Thu'um issued forth from his massive jaws. Buildings crumbled and crushed those inside and outside. Meteors continued to rain down, but the beast seemed to care little for any that hit him.

A brave soul that got within striking distance when the dragon landed tried to engage the beast with the retrieved executioner's axe. It did nothing but annoy the dragon, resulting in the horrifying view of watching him lean down and snatch the man in his jaws before swallowing him whole, armor and all. When his jaws snapped shut, all the remained of the brave soul was his legs that fell down into the square.

One victim of the beast was a guard dressed in blue with a deer's head sewn on the front of his tunic who was plucked from the battlements as he bravely fired ineffectual arrow after arrow into his giant adversary with the monster roaring, "Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki."

Your soul will feed my hunger.

Many people stayed with dead or dying loved ones. Oblivious to the chaos around them as their lives were torn apart in an instant. There were two entrances to the keep. Hadvar headed for the farthest door.

Just before they reached it, Ralof came running from their left, pushing his way past the rubble of the destroyed archway that had once connected the keep to the town square that Harry and the remaining Stormcloaks had nearly been executed in. The two childhood friends confronted each other, and Harry prayed to the Divines that he would not witness one kill the other. "Ralof! You damned traitor! Out of our way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar!" Ralof exclaimed in kind, his axe pointed at his old friend. "You're not stopping us this time."

"Fine!" Hadvar snarled as he raised his sword, only to balk when the dragon narrowly missed them with the body of an archer that he had just snatched off the wall. "I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

"Enough!" Harry bellowed, just before he struck both of them over the head. "Now is not the time for this. I don't care if either of you are an Imperial soldier or a Stormcloak! We all need to move now! Or the dragon will take all of us to Sovngarde!"

He then promptly dragged the two stunned man by the wrists, kicking open the door Hadvar had been gunning for and pulling them in, just in time to miss a blast of flame from the dragon.

Once inside, Hadvar was the first to regain his wits and abandon his argument with Ralof, "Looks like we're the only ones who made it. Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times?"

"It was defiantly a dragon." Ralof said with a quiver of fear as the beast's roar shook the fort, his grip tightening around his axe's handle. Hadvar turned to look at Harry in that moment as he remembered something from when the dragon arrived, "You spoke in the language of the dragons when that beast showed up. How did you learn to do that?"

"I don't know," Harry said truthfully as he pried a sword from the rack near to the cage door, turning to look at the Imperial soldier. "It just came out."

"I'm interested to learn about all this too, Hadvar." Ralof cut in before the curious soldier could interrogate his fellow prisoner further. "But I think we should focus on finding a way out of the fort for now." He turned to Harry. "Look around and see if you can find some armor that will fit you. It might be difficult since you're not exactly average size, even for a Nord."

Harry quickly found a chest next to the rack he'd taken his new sword from and pulled out a set of Imperial armor, sans the vambraces and helmet. Donning the armor, he found that it was a near perfect fit.

The sounds of battle filtered through the door as the fort shook again. The three refugees could hear the screams of the dying and the shouts of the surviving soldiers. Hadvar decided it was time to urge the other two forward, "Let us get moving. That thing is still out there!"

He pulled a chain which raised the wooden portcullis on the other side of the room while Ralof quickly grabbed a torch. Walking through the doorway, Harry could instantly hear voices. They stopped to listen.

"Come on, Ragnar, we need to get moving! That dragon is tearing up the whole keep!"

"Just give me a minute Raella…" A male voice spoke up in answer. "I am out of breath…"

Ralof whispered, "Hear that? I know those two." Hadvar nodded, "Maybe we can reason with them."

"It is worth a try." Harry said to the two men. "You guys can continue trying to kill each other after we survive this."

Hadvar pulled the chain and walked to the center of the room with his sword sheathed and his palms raised, "I mean you no harm. Let us work together and…"

That was a far as he got before the two Stormcloaks snarled and attacked. Hadvar was still drawing his sword when Harry found himself before Ragnar, wielding his newly acquired sword. The woman snarled when Ralof used his axe to deflect a blow aimed at Hadvar's neck. "Ralof! You damned traitor!"

"I am no traitor!" Ralof snarled before he struck her with his fist. "We can't be fighting right now! We all need to get out of Helgen before that dragon brings the fort down on our heads!"

When Ragnar pushed Harry back at the sight of his companions fighting each other, he bolted towards Ralof with the intent of relieving him of his head with a swing of his axe. "Move Raella-!" He stopped speaking as Harry plunged his sword through his back and out his chest.

Raella descended into a berserker state as she cried out in shock at losing her comrade, and Ralof was barely keeping her blows from his vital areas. She rained down vicious blows that took cuts out of Hadvar's shield whenever he blocked her blows from hitting him or Ralof.

Harry unceremoniously barged into Raella's back, bruising his shoulder against her armor as he knocked her away from the swing she was using to take of Ralof's head. The woman snarled ferally at Harry and smashed her axe down upon the shield Harry had snatched up from Rangar's corpse.

When she overreached with a swing, Harry bashed caught her arm with his shield, allowing Ralof and Hadvar to both get in with their handaxe and sword respectively. Hadvar sliced her across the middle, disemboweling her, while Ralof's axe tore through her neck, dropping her headless corpse to the ground.

"Well, that went to shit…" Ralof growled as he looked down at their bodies, his axe hanging limply in his hand as he grieved the loss of his comrades.

Harry kept his silence as he booted open the door into the corridor, when he could see no other enemies waiting to strike in the corridor, Harry motioned for the two men to follow him.

"Let's see if anybody else has survived." Ralof said forlornly as he moved into the corridor. "Next time I will make sure to keep my axe in hand." When the group met the base of the stairs and began making their way down the hall, the roar of the dragon made itself known even through the walls and this deep in the earth. Just as Hadvar was about to walk forward, Harry and Ralof pulled him back when the ceiling collapsed, blocking any movement in that direction.

"Damn." Ralof growled as Hadvar shook his head free of cobwebs. "That beast doesn't give up easily!"

"That leaves this way." Harry motioned to the door next to them, it was slightly damaged, but still able to be opened. "I saw a similar door in the wall ahead before the ceiling collapsed, they are probably linked to the same room."

"They are," Hadvar supplied, making the two remember that he'd probably been stationed here. Pushing open the door, the trio entered the room beyond, only to find two Imperial soldiers, one adorned in heavy armor, and two Stormcloaks fighting over barrels of supplies.

As the lightly armored legionnaire cut down his opponent, he took sight of Ralof and Harry, raising his sword before charging. "Sir! More rebels!"

Balking at the man's charge, Hadvar blocked his sword, before bashing him across the face with the hilt of his sword, knocking him down to the ground before Ralof's follow up kick knocked him out.

"Severus!" The man's superior cried out in shock at seeing the man defeated, his Stormcloak adversary cried out in pain when his sword cleaved through the man's wrist in his desperation to reach Severus. "You betrayed the Legion Hadvar!?"

"Hold!" Hadvar cried out as he blocked the man's strike while Ralof went to bind up his comrade's stump. The two Imperial soldiers traded blows. "He isn't dead Quaestor! He's just unconscious! We need to stop the fighting between the Stormcloaks and Imperials for now in order to get away from the dragon!"

"We will never surrender!" The Quaestor cried as he took a blow upon the shoulder of his armor that was aimed to disable him. "The Rebellion shall fall!"

He didn't see the kick from Ralof that took out his balance when it struck the back of his knee, before the Stormcloak wrapped his strong arm around the man's neck, while his other went down to restrain his flailing sword arm. "We can get back to killing each other once this mess is dealt with you fool!" Ralof roared in his ear, before pushing the man forward into the table.

Backing away from the two opposing faction soldiers, his sword held at the ready. "Why are you working with the enemy Hadvar?" He asked calmly this time while his hand checked his fallen comrade for a pulse, relaxing slightly when he found Hadvar's early words to be true. "You should be capturing these prisoners."

"Ralof spoke the truth." Hadvar said as he sheathed his sword and raised his hands to show he meant the man no harm. "With that dragon flying about and destroying the town, there wouldn't be any point to doing that! We should all be taking this chance to get away from Helgen. We can start fighting again after everything is safe."

"This is an old storeroom." Hadvar said as he turned to look at Harry once his superior stood down, the higher-ranked man bending down to lift his fallen comrade onto his shoulders. "Look around for some potions and food that could come in handy later on."

The man nodded before setting out around the room while Ralof finished cutting off the blood flow of his fellow Stormcloak's new stump and fitted him with the broken remains of his sword, and came up with a handful of red and blue potions that Hadvar informed him were healing and magicka potions. He also found a set of bows sitting in a barrel by the exit that he distributed between the group.

The door exiting the storeroom led the ragtag group into the dungeons, where they found the events of the storeroom repeating itself with two Legionnaires engaging what looked like two Stromcloak assailants. By the time, they reached them with weapons drawn the last Stormcloak lay in a pool of his blood.

The two survivors turned out to be a torturer and his assistant. There wasn't much conversation happening when the torturer assaulted Ralof with his daggers, leaving him with fresh wounds on his right leg before Harry took the man's head off with a single swing. The assistant of the idiot was given the choice of following them or being left behind for the dragon by the Quaestor.

He chose to come with.

The group left the dungeons following Harry and Hadvar breaking into a prison cell that contained a mage that had a couple books with him and relieving the dead man of his belongings. They soon found themselves looking in on a cavern filled with a hell of a lot more Stormcloaks than were originally brought in by the legion.

"Do you think we'll be able to talk them down?" Harry whispered to Hadvar and Ralof, only for the Stormcloak to shake his head sadly. "There are too many of them, the moment they see the Legion soldiers with us they'll attack without question."

"He speaks the truth," the Quaestor commented as his eyes landed on a certain soldier that was wearing armor made of bear pelts, a brutal scar marring the left side of his face and welding his left eye shut. "I recognize that man, Davon Black-Star. He's one of Ulfric's more notorious and bloodthirsty commanders, I've fought him in a couple battles, and he will most defiantly try to kill us."

Ralof winced as he noticed the man too, Davon's savage personality was well known even by his fellow Stormcloaks, and the man would most defiantly believe the two Stormcloaks with the Imperials were traitors simply for not trying to murder the opposing faction's soldiers on sight.

"We'll have to fight our way through them," the torturer's assistant said softly as he fingered his legion-issue sword. Harry nodded and decided to give his marksmanship a try by pulling the longbow he'd taken from the storeroom from his back. He managed to take one out with an arrow to the head, killing him instantly, before the rebels leapt into action with the Black-Star cutting down an arrow from the Quaestor's bow that had been aimed for his throat.

"Kill them allllll!" The man yelled in a savage voice that danced in the air with bloodlust as he held a cruelly made axe in front of him. When the soldiers made it to them, Harry managed to cut down one before he could get his sword up and rushed to another one, engaging him.

Severus quickly found himself overwhelmed by Davon, the man's battleaxe cleaving into the soldier's chest, before the Quaestor engaged him with a shout of rage. The torturer's assistant cut through the neck of one Stormcloak, before engaging with an archer that was trying to take potshots at Harry's back.

Harry himself attacked left and right with his sword, snatching up another one after he cut off a soldier's hand. Several soldiers fell at the combined teamwork of Hadvar and Ralof, and soon all were dead with the exception of Davon, who was still engaged with the Quaestor.

"I'll make sure you all enjoy staring wistfully at Sovngarde's doors you bastards!" Davon cried out with a look of bliss on his face that nearly made Harry recoil when he went to aid the Quaestor. "All Imperials shall die!" He let out a gurgled scream when Harry launched an arrow into the back of his right shoulder, which led to the Quaestor forcing him back from the cavern's entrance.

"You bastard! Die!" Davon screeched as he rounded on Harry, the look of a madman on his face as Harry parried his first strike, feeling his arm quiver like he'd stopped a sledgehammer, though he supposed a battle-axe was close enough. Ralof came to his aide by taking a piece of the man out of his hide with a slash of his axe across his side, sliding beneath his armor, which brought another scream that saw Ralof stumbling back from a backfist blow across the face.

Grasping the opening, Harry and the Quaestor impaled the man on their swords at the same time from the front and back, making his next shout end in coughing up blood before falling to the ground bonelessly as they ripped their blades from his body.

"So?" Harry prompted, making the group look to him once Davon fell completely still. "How many Stormcloaks were brought into Helgen for execution?"

"Just the two wagons," Ralof answered, clearly seeing where he was going with this. "Eight in total including you and Lokir. I'm pretty sure that I've killed at least four, none of whom were with us when we arrived."

"I have killed five, not including those two back at the entrance." Harry commented as he looked at the large group of bodies littered about the floor. "The Quaestor killed Davon and Severus took out that other one in the storeroom. Hadvar killed three just now. And Hamst killed two that attacked me, so there are quite a lot more Stormcloaks in Helgen than there should be. And to top it all off, I recognize none of their faces from the execution."

"This was most likely a rescue party that was infiltrating the town in order to rescue Ulfric," the Quaestor said quietly as he cleaned his sword on Davon's armor and the assistant paused in his gathering of dropped weapons.

"So, if they got in the keep without anyone noticing before now, then wherever they entered is our way out." Ralof continued as he sheathed his axe at his belt and Hadvar nodded in kind while he traded his ruined shield for one of the dead Stormcloaks, before asking another question. "But how would they know where Ulfric was?"

"Ulfric is a former member of the Legion and a veteran of the Great War," the Quaestor commented. "I served under General Jonna with him and the Beast of Hammerfell during that time. And if I were him, I would have had a couple scouts hang back from the main party so that they wouldn't be caught in a trap that might be waiting, especially considering how high profile the Jarl is. They probably went back to Windhelm or the closest Stormcloak stronghold or outpost to gather more men before following after the caravan that brought you here and decided to enter the city from the keep's back entrance. I doubt they expected a dragon of all things to attack though."

The assistant spoke up, "I find this all fascinating but I feel we should probably get a move on before the dragon gets tired of dealing with those upstairs and catches sight of us leaving…"

Hadvar and Ralof nodded their agreement, and they left the cavern of dead Stormcloaks, the ragtag group just barely making it across the bridge to another part of the cavern before its roof collapsed and destroyed the bridge.

All signs of civilization following that were gone and the only stone they saw was naturally made rather than the manmade walls and steps of the keep. They made their way through a cave that was full of giant spiders that had Ralof shivering in disgust while Hadvar strangely bemoaned the lack of giant snakes, which made everyone look at him strangely. They killed them all quickly and managed to get everyone out unscathed.

A breeze promising fresh air wafted through a last cave that was home to two huge bears, one deep brown and one white.

They snuck past them, preferring to not draw their attention, especially considering that they had an injured man with them, and all were tired from the consecutive fighting so far.

Exiting the bear's den, they could see a large crack in the wall that had sunlight streaming through it followed by snow. "This is it! I was starting to wonder if we'd ever make it." Hadvar exclaimed joyously, immediately getting a shush from Ralof that reminded him of the bears not too far from them.

Harry almost soiled his armor when the black dragon flew overhead with a great, long roar as it left the burning ruins of Helgen behind. He was quite sure that the others had done the same by the resigned look on the one-handed Stormcloak's face.

Hadvar and Ralof were crouching behind a rock and the Quaestor pulled his former enemy into the bushes when it flew past, Harry himself simply stood in the same spot in the open and stared at it in wonder as it flew past.

"Where do we go next?" Harry asked once the tense atmosphere left. "I am unfamiliar with this land."

"It looks like he's gone for good this time." Ralof commented as he took his clenched fist away from his axe's handle. "But I don't think we should stick around to see if he comes back. The closest town from here is Riverwood. My sister Gerdur runs the mill there and Hadvar's uncle is the blacksmith there. I'm sure either would be willing to help you out, though my sister will be wary of you at first."

"Hamst and I will be needing to get to Solitude as soon as possible to ensure they know we survived and report on this disaster, so we'll be leaving you here, friend." The Quaestor said before he motioned to the two Stormcloaks. "We won't stop you from leaving today, but just know that if we meet on the battlefield, then I will do my best to cut you down for your treason."

Ralof and his comrade nodded, before the blond took his comrade's uninjured arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. "We'll be headed out too Hadvar," he said much to the Imperial's surprise. "The road will most likely be swarming with Imperial soldiers and whatever Thalmor were in Helgen from that mess and it's best if Rook and I don't get caught…"

Harry nodded his understanding towards his former carriage mate. "We'll see you later sometime." He then turned back to his only remaining companion as the other pairs stalked off in their respective directions. "Riverwood it is then. Lead the way Hadvar."

And that is it folks. For those of you that may have noticed, I have aged Harry up from the fifteen years he was at when he met Ereshkigal. During the passage to the realm of Elder Scrolls Harry aged over five years, leaving him at the age of twenty, which is a more appropriate age for the Dragonborn to be when he begins his adventure.

I don't have much to say other than I hope you all like this idea and that I may be making this an actual story come the future.

Until next time, Iskander Mandoraekon signing out, Ja Ne.