#now to do uhhhhhhh 12 more!! and then slowly do the rest as i post chapters

[throughtrialbyfire]

Cycle of the Serpent - Chapter 1, "Unbound"

summary: Surviving Helgen by the skin of their teeth, three elves find themselves tossed into the middle of ancient legends, a civil war, and a hell of a lot of problems. They may all have different reasons for being in Skyrim, but if they have any hope of reaching their destinations alive, it lies in learning to trust their strange new companions... no matter what. From the ruins of Helgen to the plains of Whiterun, from the seas of Solitude to the grim frost of Winterhold, and everywhere sprawling beyond, the unlikely trio will find that being chosen by Akatosh is more than they've ever bargained for. And with their own histories crawling back, and secrets slowly spilled, the trio may find that there's little they can do to escape the cycles they've made. Rated M, canon-typical violence, ptsd, discussions of child abuse, death. reluctant dragonborns, longfic, canon deviation, slow build, moral ambiguity.

chapter 1 preview below the readmore

  The pounding in Athenath's head was like a fist on the door to a great hall, silencing the crowds within. 

  The skies spilled over in grey-blue hue, sounds of horses trotting and the turning of wooden wagon wheels beneath their seat coming to piece together a portrait of their situation. Though his senses were foggy and muddled, he blinked away blurriness in their eyes and focused on the thick trees just beyond the cart. The cart? He didn't remember hopping into any carts, but if that's where they found themself... 

  He glanced to one side, spotting another cart being dragged by well-groomed horses. Imperial drivers. They scrunched their brow and turned their gaze to the other side. The back of an Imperial helmet met them. He raised his hand as though to rub his eyes, but when he felt tension around his wrists, a jolt of shock ran down them.

  They looked down.

  The fear that balled up in their throat like a fist caught them off-guard. He made a strangled noise of surprise, and struggled against the tightly-knotted leather around their slim wrists. A man seated across from him took note, his cold eyes having been on the woods behind Athenath, taking in the scenery. A Nord, he guessed.

  "Hey, you, you're finally awake." He gave the faintest ghost of a smile, like he was trying to comfort the figure that continued to struggle against the binds. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush. Same as us, and that thief over there." He tilted his head in a small jerking motion to the smaller man next to him, whose gaze rarely rose from the wooden floor of the cart. Athenath looked to him, then to the man in dark finery, whose mouth was bound as tight as a belligerent hounds. He did not struggle, but sat with slumped shoulders and high chin, brow set in a permanent glower.

  They looked then to the others in the cart. Beside the thief sat a Dunmer man, his round, gold-rimmed glasses firm on his nose as though he'd enchanted them to remain there, no matter what skirmishes he may encounter. To his side, at the end of the cart's bench, sat a taller person, though Athenath couldn't tell if he were elf or man. His dark, sage-green cowl obscured his ears, and his stature lended itself to him possibly being a Breton. He noticed Athenath, the pair locking dark eyes in the grey morning. He nudged the Dunmer next to him. 

  Something had gone very, very wrong for all three of them to wind up here.

  Athenath shifted his attention back to the arguing pair, the Nord and the thief. Something about Stormcloaks. They'd heard the word before, a fragment of overheard conversation from the night they'd spent in Bruma before crossing over into...

  That's right, they'd been coming to Skyrim. They'd been crossing a border into the frigid land when they got turned around, saw a large group of people in strange armor, figured that he'd been reading his map wrong and turned around, and then shooting pain, then darkness, then here. In the cart. 

  In binds.

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